The return of the wounded warrior

In our factory, there is a special kind of excitement when an old, battered piece of furniture returns to us. Recently, a “BOLS” sofa—one of our long-selling icons—came home after several decades of service.

When we stripped away the worn-out nubuck leather, we found the internal cushions looking like a battlefield. The foam had lost its spirit, and the leather was stained with the history of a thousand Sunday afternoons. To most people, it was “trash.” To us, it was a “Wounded Warrior” returning from the front lines of a customer’s life.

The art of the “meaningful scar”

Here is where the “surgery” gets complicated. Restoration is actually much harder than making a new sofa from scratch. Why? Because our craftsmen have to play the role of psychologists. They have to decide: How much of the “old” should we keep?

It’s easy to make a wooden frame look brand-new. But those scratches and stains on the armrests are more than just damage—they are stories. They are the marks of a child growing up or a cat finding its favorite spot. If we erase them all, we erase the family’s history.

For this BOLS sofa, we decided to keep the original frame and its “ambiance” but replaced the old cotton-wrapped foam with modern, resilient molded urethane. We gave it new life, but we made sure it kept its soul. We don’t want the customer to say, “Nice to meet you.” We want them to say, “Welcome back.”

The “unprofitable” truth

Now, let me share a secret from the management side: Restoration is not a good way to make a profit in the short term. Unlike our modern production lines, restoration cannot be streamlined. No two “wounds” are the same. We have to examine every inch, carefully strip coatings by hand, and debate the best approach for each individual piece. It’s slow, it’s labor-intensive, and it’s completely inefficient.

So why do we do it? First, because we respect the wood. These trees took decades to grow; we owe it to them to make their “afterlife” as a chair last just as long. Second, because of that moment of delivery. When a customer sees their old friend returned to them, restored but still familiar, that look on their face is a currency that doesn’t show up on a balance sheet.

And let me be clear: I am not just saying this to sound like a “nice guy.” This is a calculated management decision for long-term success. People who experience this level of care become our most passionate supporters, promoting our furniture through powerful word-of-mouth. In fact, we often see the children of these customers, who grew up with our furniture, coming back to buy their own pieces when they start their own families. They choose us because we’ve been part of their home for as long as they can remember.

I’m the kind of person who worries about the end of the world (as you know from my I Am Legend obsession), so seeing things that actually last—and relationships that span generations—gives me a rare sense of peace.

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A truly great piece of furniture is one that grows more beautiful with age—and one that has a home to return to when it needs a little help. Why not invest in a chair that your children might one day return to us for their own new beginnings?

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