Three tables. One tailor. A complete workstation in ash — work table, sewing machine table, projector stand. Everything folds, slides, works.
Triangles. Trinity. Three tables that together become one.
A large work table. The sewing machine table slides underneath it. Beside it — a projector stand to cast patterns onto the surface. Every element has a hidden layer. Literally — shelves, compartments, a cabinet 20cm deep.
The tailor sits down, sets up and works. Finishes, folds it all away, and it's just a table again.
On the other side — a tambour cabinet made of vertical slats. Open it and you have shelves. Close it and you have an object.
A knot in the side table fell out. I wanted to leave the hole. The client didn't. I covered it with an ash dowel, black fill on the sides. It came out like an eclipse.
I stitched the cracks in the top with butterfly inlays — a wooden "seam" that holds and tells a story. Edges chamfered by hand. Every triangle in the lattice cut with a jigsaw and finished with a router.
Wooden dowels instead of screws. Wherever possible.
The project defeated me a thousand times, but it got built. Side‑hustle meets side‑hustle — the tailor sews after work, I build after work.
A destroyed saw blade. Countless jigsaw blades. One 4mm router bit — snapped. A thousand litres of shavings hauled out of a 25m² garage.
Four months of after-hours work. Like the client who sews after work — I build after work. Side‑hustle meets side‑hustle.
First custom like this. Not the last.
