A studio of one,
and the hands of a few.
Made in Atlanta, GA. Started in a kitchen in 2019. Still mostly run from one long table by the window.
I began making small things for other people’s gatherings the way most people in my family did — by quiet accident. My grandmother kept a basket of folded napkins under her kitchen counter, all of them embroidered with somebody else’s initials, all of them gifts she had not yet given. The basket made sense to me. So did the work.
I am Sana — founder, primary maker, and frequent over-orderer of cotton ribbon. I trained in textile design and worked for two years in a stationery house in London, where I learned that the difference between a beautiful object and a mediocre one is most often the last ten percent. Trim the edge. Press the seam. Wait one more day before you call it finished.
The studio works on a small number of projects at a time, with a small team. I personally read every inquiry. I usually answer within two days, sometimes the same evening. The work is intimate by choice; we don’t take more than we can finish well.
We’re happiest making in editions: thirty wax-sealed envelopes, eighty embroidered napkins, two hundred paper cranes for a ceiling. There is a particular satisfaction in seeing the same gesture made again and again, never quite identical, always within the line.
“Thoughts” — what people picture but cannot describe. “Things” — what the table actually carries.
The name is the simplest description of what we do: take the mood of an event — the way you want guests to feel when they sit down — and translate it into objects you can hold. A thought becomes a place card; a feeling becomes a ribbon, a sealed envelope, a fold of linen. Plural for both, because rarely does a gathering ask for just one.
We build for the moment after the photographs — when somebody slips a sachet into their bag on the way out, and remembers an evening, exactly.
The kitchen years — 2019
A friend asked for fifty hand-stamped favor bags before her wedding in the spring. They took six weeks to make and were finished in our kitchen in East Atlanta. I priced them too low and learned, that summer, what it costs to make eighty of anything by yourself.
The first studio — 2021
A 320 square-foot room above a bookbinder, with a north-facing window and a single sewing machine. We took our first contract for an editorial brand — one hundred-and-twenty wax-sealed invitations — and from there, a slow, careful list of clients found their way to us.
The atelier today — 2026
A bigger room, two long tables, a kiln, and a part-time team of three when projects are large. We work on roughly fifteen to twenty projects a year — small enough to read every brief twice, large enough to keep the lights on.
Made in Atlanta, GA.
The studio sits a few blocks east of Inman Park. We do not host walk-ins, but we’re glad to schedule visits when a project calls for it.