From waste to heritage: How Dutch wool is getting a new life

When I first learned that 1.5 million kilos of Dutch wool are burned every year because it’s seen as worthless, I felt two things: disbelief and design instinct. I knew this material had served us for centuries. We’ve slept on it for generations, an entire mattresses made of wool. That’s where the idea for a lounge chair was born. If wool can hold a body through the night, why not also through the day?

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For decades, Dutch wool has been seen as a leftover. A byproduct of sheep farming with little to no economic value. It’s too coarse for fashion, too labour-intensive for large-scale processing, and too overlooked to compete with synthetic alternatives.

But that resistance is exactly what makes it interesting. When a material is dismissed, it becomes a blank canvas. It invites questions. What can it do? What qualities are we ignoring? And how might design bring those hidden strengths to the surface? 

Instead of working against the material, I chose to let it lead. Dutch wool became the starting point: not just a filling, but a structural element, a comfort layer, and a statement in itself. I worked with it the way it’s meant to be used: dense where it needs to support, soft where it needs to hold.

I looked at how wool has traditionally been used in mattresses, not just as padding, but held under tension to create natural firmness. That principle, known as capitonneren, became part of my process. Instead of stitching it into place, I chose to fold and compress the wool into a single movement: one large knot that forms the base of a wool lounge chair.

By folding the wool into its own supportive form, the chair doesn’t need synthetic foam or hidden structures. The firmness comes from the wool itself. So does the softness. That tension between strength and surrender became the essence of the design.

See how the Ida chair brings Dutch wool to life. 

Wool has been part of our lives for centuries. In the Netherlands, it once stood for warmth, resilience, and resourcefulness. A material woven into daily life. Somewhere along the way, it lost that status. Efficiency replaced craft. Global replaced local. And what once held emotional and practical value became a forgotten leftover.

But materials carry more than function. They carry meaning. Using wool today is not just a sustainable choice. It’s a cultural gesture. A way to reconnect with natural rhythms, tactile comfort, and the kind of beauty that doesn’t shout.

By bringing Dutch wool back into design, visibly and with intention, I wanted to show that reuse can be elegant. That heritage isn’t static or nostalgic. It evolves, breathes, and adapts. Just like the chair.

The Ida chair is not a trend piece. It’s not driven by seasonality, style cycles, or fast production. It’s built from a material that was almost forgotten, using a process rooted in care and intention. That’s what gives it longevity.

I believe that when we choose our materials, we are also choosing a worldview. Wool is slow. It is local. It is shaped by nature, not by industry. By designing with it, I’m not just proposing a new kind of chair. I’m asking a different kind of question: What does comfort mean when it’s built to last? 

For me, Ida is not about sitting still. It’s about taking a position. Quietly, but clearly.