Why my design lounge chair is more than just a seat

Last November something happened I didn’t see coming. I was working from home when Mia texted me: Kelly Wearstler just visited the gallery.
I thought she was joking. Until I saw the photos. There she was radiant, fearless, standing beside my lounge chair It starts here. It felt surreal. And deeply affirming.

Kelly Wearstler is one of the most influential voices in interior design today. Her work has always moved me not because it’s perfect, but because it’s unapologetically hers. Interiors full of texture, contrast, tension. You see it in her homes, you see it in her wardrobe. And that’s exactly the kind of world I want to design for.

So when someone like her takes time to connect with your work, it doesn’t just boost your confidence. It reminds you that following your own rhythm is always the right choice, even if the process is messy, vulnerable, and full of doubt.

When I started designing It starts here, I wasn’t trying to reference the past. I wasn’t aiming for a vintage look. But through the materials I chose and the way the form evolved, a subtle 70s atmosphere emerged. Not by design — just by instinct. It felt natural.

But let me be clear: I didn’t want a chair that blends in. I didn’t want something that politely fits in a showroom or ticks every box. I wanted a design lounge chair with character. One that either clicks with you or doesn’t.

Because I believe truly good design isn’t about pleasing everyone. When a piece tries to be universally liked, it often becomes generic. Safe. Standard.

That’s not what It starts here is. It’s a statement. Quiet, maybe. But clear. It’s soft enough to invite you in. Firm enough to hold you. Honest enough to last.

At one point, I couldn’t find the right supplier for processed Dutch wool. I didn’t want to wait. So I drove to a farmer, picked up a few bags of raw wool, and washed it myself — in my washing machine. I needed to feel what the wool could do.

It was messy. It took hours. But it taught me everything I needed to know.

The way the fibers held their shape, the softness with structure, the natural resistance it all shaped the final design. My design lounge chair doesn’t use foam or a frame. The folds create their own logic. It supports where it needs to.

That’s what I mean when I say it’s more than a product. It’s a process. A decision to work with the material, not against it.

Compliments are always welcome. But when someone like Kelly Wearstler sees your chair, it hits different.

She didn’t give a long speech. She didn’t need to. The photo of her standing next to It starts here in the Mia Karlova gallery said more than enough. It gave me a kind of quiet trust.

Designing something personal is always a risk. There will always be people who don’t like it. And that’s exactly why I believe in it. If everyone likes it, it probably doesn’t say much.

There’s something powerful about softness. Especially now.
We live in a time of speed, stress, stimulation. People want to come home to something that lets them exhale. Something warm. Something grounding.

That’s where my design starts. I work with natural materials, like Dutch wool, because they hold stories. They age with grace. 
I avoid foam, because it breaks down. I avoid frames, because you don’t need more materials to make a good design.

My design lounge chair holds its shape through the tention on the wool, not structure. You can sit upright, sideways, or curled up.