Who's behind this
No collective, no band, no marketing department — just two people with glue on our fingers and too many ideas for one sketchbook. We've been running this ourselves for 25 years now, fueled by a pure, uncompromising punk-rock DIY ethos. From the first sketch to the shipping label.
We used to have separate lives, separate careers, and separate paychecks in marketing, music, design, and communication. The kind of corporate or creative gigs that look great on paper but suck the marrow out of your bone. So, we burned it down. We walked away from the grind to build something that actually matters: a sustainable space with a soul.
But honestly? It wasn't just about the products. It was about survival. We wanted a life where we actually live and create together, not just share an exhausted nod after clocking out for someone else.
Sure, cash is always tight, and the financial tightrope is real. But 25 years in, we can safely say there is absolutely nothing on this planet that is more fun than this beautiful, chaotic hustle.
What gets made here
Handmade pieces, one-off or in small batches — no factory line, no two pieces exactly alike. Whatever ends up in our brick-and-mortar shop or online space has been through real hands first.
We slice, stitch, and upcycle raw fabrics into one-of-a-kind clothing, hand-pulled prints, and unique artist pieces right here on the floor. But we don't stop at our own cutting table. We constantly scour the chaos of the world to bring you a handpicked, heavy-hitting selection of killer vintage gems that deserve a second life.
If it's sustainable, gives us a kick, and breaks the mold, it's in. No corporate guidelines, no trend-chasing, absolutely no limits.
Why "Who Killed Bambi?"
A nod, not an accident — the attitude behind it: be loud, allow imperfection, no patience for a glossy front. DIY over decoration.
Because it's the ultimate middle finger to the polished, over-produced corporate machine that tries to sell you safety wrapped in a logo. We are drawn to the punk and zine aesthetic because it doesn't ask for permission, and it doesn't apologize for its rough edges.
It's about taking the broken, discarded pieces of culture, ripping them apart, and slapping them back together with a staple gun and a grin. We love the smell of fresh ink, the grit of photocopied textures, and the beautiful, honest mess of making things by hand. To us, perfection is boring — it's the flaws that give a piece its pulse.