Publish the number,
then the change.

Almost everything that gets sent back in this category is sent back for one of two reasons, and scale is the first. A side table that turns out to be shorter than the arm of the chair it was bought for. A board that is longer than the counter run. Neither is a defect and neither is the customer being careless — it is a shop failing to state a number it already had.

So every product page opens with exact dimensions in inches: height, width, depth or diameter, and the weight. Measure the space, compare the number. That is far more reliable than looking at a picture, and it is the only honest way to sell something you cannot stand next to.

The second reason is change. White oak lifts from pale gold to honey over two years. Unlacquered brass leaves the workshop bright and is brown within a year. Washed linen creases permanently and gets softer for five years. Lambswool pills for its first month. A glaze varies where it breaks over a throwing ring, so two vases from one firing do not match.

Every one of those reads as a fault if nobody told you, and none of them is. So every page carries a section saying what darkens, what moves, what pills and how fast — plus a cautions list naming what will actually ruin the piece. Those are the least flattering paragraphs on the site and they are the reason things stay sold.

Nothing that needs freight. No sofas, no dining tables, no wardrobes. That is a deliberate limit rather than an ambition we have not reached yet: the shipping and returns terms here promise a prepaid parcel label in both directions, and a dining table makes that promise a lie. Everything in the catalogue fits in a box that one person can carry to a collection point.

No veneer, no particle board, no flat pack. Where something is solid timber the page says which timber; where it is joined the page says which joint. A piece that arrives assembled and stays tight is the whole argument for buying it.