Why I Don’t Make Cheap Versions of My Products
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There’s a cheaper version of every product I make.
Thinner materials. Faster production. Less finishing. Less testing. Less time spent on the details that most people won’t notice at first glance.
I could make those versions.
I just choose not to.
Because once you start designing around price instead of permanence, the object changes. It stops being something meant to live with you and becomes something meant to be replaced.
And there are already enough things like that in the world.
What “Cheap” Actually Means
When people hear the word cheap, they usually think about price. But in design, cheap is a series of quiet decisions.
It’s shaving down thickness so materials cost less.
It’s skipping finishing steps that improve durability.
It’s choosing coatings that look good for a few weeks instead of surfaces that age well over years.
It’s designing for quick production instead of long-term use.
None of these changes seem dramatic on their own. But together, they shift an object from something that lasts to something that slowly falls apart.
And once that process starts, the object is already on a timer.
The Hidden Cost of Disposable Objects
Most everyday items aren’t built to stay with you. They’re built to work for now.
They get scratched, worn out, lost, replaced, and forgotten. Then the cycle starts again.
It feels cheaper in the moment. But over time, it creates a pattern of constant replacement — buying the same thing over and over, never quite satisfied, never attached.
Well-designed objects break that pattern.
They settle into your life.
They get used, carried, handled daily.
They become familiar.
And familiarity creates value that goes beyond function.
Why Small Objects Get Undervalued
People think carefully about spending on big things.
Shoes. Jackets. Phones. Furniture.
But the objects you touch every day — the ones in your pocket, on your desk, in your car — are often treated as disposable. Something to grab quickly, replace quickly, forget quickly.
The strange part is those smaller objects often have more contact with your daily life than anything else you own.
They’re handled constantly.
They’re used without thinking.
They quietly become part of your routine.
That’s exactly why they deserve more intention, not less.
Designing for Time, Not Trends
When I make something, the goal isn’t to make it look impressive for a week.
It’s to make something that still feels right a year later.
That means choosing materials that age instead of deteriorate.
Keeping details intentional instead of decorative.
Avoiding shortcuts that only exist to lower cost.
It also means accepting that not everyone will understand the value immediately.
And that’s fine.
Because the right objects aren’t meant for everyone. They’re meant for the people who notice the difference after using them for a while.
The Real Goal
This isn’t about luxury.
It isn’t about status.
And it isn’t about making something expensive for the sake of it.
The goal is simple:
To make objects that earn their place.
Objects that stay.
Objects that get better with time.
Objects that feel wrong to replace once they’ve become part of your routine.
There will always be cheaper versions.
I’m just more interested in making the ones people keep.