The before.
And after.

This Alrob dresser came in buried under layers of white paint. Someone had painted over what turned out to be absolutely beautiful timber underneath. The bones were perfect: classic MCM lines, solid construction, those gorgeous original handles still intact.

Stripping it back was deeply satisfying. Once the paint was gone, the grain just revealed itself, warm and characterful,, exactly what mid-century timber is supposed to look like. It was stained to enhance the natural colour, then lacquered for protection and a lovely soft sheen.

The drawers got a surprise inside too, lined with a bold retro geometric print that feels completely of the era. Little details like that are what make a restoration feel intentional rather than just functional.

Watch the process on Instagram ↗

It started as something that had been left behind. Not abandoned in a dramatic way. Just slowly forgotten. Sitting at the back of a garage, collecting dust, the timber dulled and suffocated under a darkened varnish that never really belonged to it. You could still see the grain underneath, trying to come through. The drawers were struggling, out of alignment, no longer moving the way they were built to.

And underneath all of that, there was history. It had belonged to someone's grandfather. It wasn't just furniture. It had already lived a life.

That varnish didn't want to let go. It had sunk deep into the grain, uneven and stubborn, resisting in all the places that mattered most. The curves made everything harder. Flat surfaces are forgiving, curves aren't. Every pass had to respect the shape, because once you lose that softness, you don't get it back.

The drawers needed patience. Not forcing them, but coaxing them back into alignment while keeping their integrity. That's a quiet kind of skill. The kind that doesn't show unless it's done wrong.

And then slowly, the timber started to come back. Baltic pine, warm and full of character, with those subtle variations and markings that only come from age. The small imperfections, the traces of its life, they're still there, but now they feel intentional. Part of the story rather than damage.

The colour sits in that space between honey and walnut. Soft, warm, slightly aged. Something that feels like it could have always been this way, like it was uncovered, rather than imposed. The brass handles still hold their age too, cleaned just enough to bring back their glow, but not stripped of their history.

When it all came together, it stopped looking like something rescued. It just looked right.

See the transformation on Instagram ↗