We make one sample of a piece, look at it properly, and then make the run. Usually around a hundred. When they are gone, we do not make more.
That is not a marketing device. It is a description of how we manufacture. Everything we release is a new production run — we do not hold a core range and top it up.
Part of it is deliberate. A single run means the decisions can be specific: a stripe that exists once, a fabric chosen because it is right for this jacket rather than because it survives four seasons. Averaging is how clothes get boring.
The other part is simply true about a company our size. Making a small amount properly is the only version of this we can do well. We would rather say that than pretend it is a strategy we chose from a position of strength.
It costs us. We cannot chase a bestseller — by the time we know something is working, it is gone. Sizes sell out unevenly and we cannot backfill the gaps. And we disappoint people who find us a month late, which is the part we like least.
What it buys you is that the piece stays uncommon. It does not turn up on everyone. And it was designed for one run, by people who knew there would not be a second chance to get it right.
A run ends. The garment should not. That is the whole argument — that a piece ought to outlast the run it came from, the season it was made in, and the reason you bought it.
Runs close without warning. The one open now is the Monterey Edition.