
Salvage
We collect cutting-room offcuts from nine factories every Monday, before they reach the skip.
Every panel on this jacket was cut from something else, then swept off a factory floor.
Tent nylon, workwear canvas, a sofa's checkerboard. The pockets are still the pockets they used to be.
Turn around and it is a new jacket. We lay the back out last, from whatever is left on the table.
A boxy puffer with a real down fill. Warm enough for January, impossible to lose in a crowd.
Drop 07 is 120 jackets. None of them match, including the two we kept.
Garment factories throw away around fifteen percent of every roll they cut. We go and get it, sort it by weight and colour, and build it back into something nobody could have planned.
Hover a panel to straighten it. Every one of them had a life before this jacket.





No pattern

We collect cutting-room offcuts from nine factories every Monday, before they reach the skip.

By weight first, then colour. Anything under twenty centimetres becomes a pocket or a patch.

One maker builds one jacket, front to back, over three days. No two makers lay a back out the same way.

The maker signs the inside label and logs every panel's origin, so you know what your jacket used to be.

One hundred and twenty jackets, each numbered and logged. See what yours might be made of, then get on the list: it opens to the list an hour before anyone else.