The before.
And after.

Alrob is one of those names that means something in Melbourne furniture history. A local manufacturer, active through the mid-century decades, they made pieces with a quiet confidence: solid construction, thoughtful proportions, details that still look considered today. When this pair came in painted white, I knew exactly what was underneath.

Victorian Ash veneer is a beautiful thing to work with. It has a fine, straight grain with just enough variation to give it warmth without being busy. The challenge with painted veneer is always patience. The paint had settled into every recess of those handles, and getting it out cleanly took real time.

The stain was planned for walnut but landed somewhere closer to teak on this timber, which turned out to be a better result than anticipated. The Ash took it in a way that made the grain come forward, warm and golden, with just enough depth to feel rich rather than flat.

This Alrob dresser came in buried under layers of white paint. Someone had covered 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. 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.

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 under a darkened varnish that never really belonged to it.

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

That varnish did not want to let go. Uneven and stubborn, resisting in all the places that mattered most. The curves made everything harder. Flat surfaces are forgiving, curves are not.

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

Watch the process on Instagram

These 1960s Alrob bedsides came in with the full weight of six decades on them. Damaged laminate tops, tired and uneven finishes, hardware that had long since stopped looking intentional. They had good bones and a genuinely beautiful silhouette.

The laminate tops came off first. New timber tops were prepared, glued down carefully, and sanded flush so they read as original rather than added. The join disappears into the piece.

The sanding process worked progressively through grits, finishing with hand sanding to 320. That final hand stage is what gives the timber a soft, almost velvety quality. The stain landed in a deep warm walnut that still lets the grain breathe.

The hardware was cleaned and polished, the metal feet restored, the drawer runners waxed. Restored to look exactly like themselves, at their best.

This piece arrived as a classic find: a large, low-slung, 12-drawer mid-century modern dresser with serious bones and years of wear standing between it and its former self. The kind of piece that rewards patience. Sourced for $150, the proportions, the handles, and the timber carcass all pointed to something worth doing properly.

Before any work began, the piece was assessed top to bottom. The finish was deteriorated across all surfaces, dulled and uneven, with decades of build-up that comes from recoating without proper preparation underneath. The carcass was structurally sound, which matters enormously on a piece this size. All 12 drawers were present and functional, the original recessed rectangular pulls intact and worth keeping.

The scale presented an immediate practical challenge. At full length, a squat-based scraping technique was developed for the lower sections of the carcass. You just have to problem-solve in the moment with a piece this large. Stripping was the most physically demanding phase: the entire carcass stripped using chemical stripper, followed by carbide scraping across all accessible sides. All 12 drawers stripped individually.

After stripping, progressive sanding through grits from 80 up to 320 by hand. That final hand stage is where the finish quality is actually determined. The water-based polyurethane was chosen for its clarity and durability, applied in stages with proper cure time between coats.

Midway through finishing, a haze developed across the surface. It is a recognised phenomenon with water-based finishes: moisture trapped in the film as it cures. The temptation is to intervene. The right call was to leave it completely undisturbed overnight. It resolved fully. The surface came up clear. That is one of the lessons a piece like this teaches: knowing when not to act is as important as knowing what to do.

Total investment: approximately 31 hours of work, $150 acquisition, $50 in materials. The result is ready for another fifty years of use.

This one was a proper education.

The Burgess sideboard came in with real bones: great proportions, strong brand, that satisfying low-slung MCM silhouette. It also came in with a burn mark on the top, veneer damage on the sides, and an old finish that needed to go.

The first curveball came early. I used paint stripper on the drawer mouldings and discovered they were not solid timber at all. They were a glue-based composite, and the stripper essentially dissolved them. The mouldings had to come off entirely.

The burn mark was the hardest part. I used oxalic acid to lighten it, which worked, until I stained the top and it came back darker than before. So I sanded back selectively, feathered the stain lighter over the affected area and heavier elsewhere. It reads as a character mark rather than damage.

The sides had veneer damage right down to chipboard in areas. I shifted the visual focus entirely to the front: walnut-toned stain on the carcass, deep forest green on the drawers, brass handles spaced precisely.

This one started as a puzzle rather than a piece. Three separate Alrob items, sourced individually over time, each finished differently. Separately they were interesting. Together they were going to be something.

The challenge with unifying a suite is that you cannot simply apply the same stain and call it done. Each piece had absorbed its finish differently. Each had its own history of repairs, veneer wear, and edge damage.

The stain was chosen to work across all three pieces simultaneously. The final tone sits somewhere between honey and walnut, consistent enough to read as a set but with enough individual character to feel like furniture rather than a display.

What came in as three mismatched orphans left as a bedroom suite.