YOU'RE HERE BECAUSE I LOST MY YOHJI YAMAMOTO GLASSES

You're probably wondering how losing a pair of Yohji Yamamoto glasses could possibly have anything to do with the leather goods on this website.

The short answer is: if I hadn't lost them, there's a good chance TELLER wouldn't exist in its current form—a studio centered around eyeglasses cases—and you might not be reading this today.

But that connection didn't exist at the time.

It began much earlier, in Tokyo, many years ago, when I bought a pair of Yohji Yamamoto glasses in my early twenties. My eyesight was still perfect back then, so glasses were not about seeing clearly or even shades for me. They were a piece of art, almost like a wearable sculpture.

The Yohji glasses were dark green, with thin, intricately formed temples—delicate but sharp.

I had them not as a necessity but as a favorite object.

Then, years later, I unexpectedly became a leather worker and made my very first handmade eyeglasses case. Although I had been staying up for a few days with very little sleep, I went to see a movie and brought the new case with me, just to see how it would feel. I placed my beloved glasses inside it—almost like giving them company.

Then they disappeared.

When I got back to my car, I realized I didn't have them. I checked my bag, under the driver's seat, even walked back to the theater and searched again. They were gone. And what I lost was more than the object—it was my mind.

A small object I had owned for years was suddenly gone because of my own carelessness and lack of sleep. It felt like receiving a sudden call telling me I had lost an old friend. In my driver’s seat, my heart sank, and I sat there for quite some time, feeling numb, swearing I would never own glasses again, before I could drive home.

And yes, I never saw them again.

As someone who values things not by price or brand, but by memory and detail, this became one of the most unforgettable losses of my life. For quite some time, seeing the empty eyeglasses case felt like it was quietly waiting for its companion.

But that feeling of loss slowly became something else.

Glasses have always been one of my favorite accessories, next to hats. They are rare objects that sit right in the center of the face, and their color, shape, and style can quietly become part of someone's identity. More than a necessity, they are, to me, one of the most interesting everyday objects you can own. I can’t help commenting whenever I see an interesting pair on the street, and I’ve found myself quietly hoping their owner never loses them since that day.

That became the beginning of an idea.

Something I loved so much deserved to be protected, and to have something that could accompany it throughout its life. That thought eventually led me to making more eyeglasses cases—not simply as leather goods, but as a quiet wish: to protect something that is already part of someone's life.

I think when we lose something, what matters most is what we choose to do afterward. By losing my Yohji Yamamoto glasses, I've had the opportunity to create leather pieces for something I truly love, and to witness what other people treasure in their own lives.

A custom case inspired by a favorite football club. A beloved superhero. A worship band. One made for family members. One made for themselves. Or, a One-of-a-kind pieces that spoke to someone. Every one reminds me why I make what I make.

If you own one of my eyeglasses cases, it's more than a purchase to me. It's a quiet connection that I'm genuinely grateful for.

So thank you for finding your way here, and I hope you enjoy your glasses as much as I enjoyed making them a companion. If you don’t own one yet, I hope you find something that speaks to you here, or somewhere else that feels right for you.

By the way—if you happened to find a dark green pair of Yohji Yamamoto glasses inside Los Feliz 3, or nearby on Los Feliz Boulevard, technically they're still mine.

I'm just letting you borrow them for life.

I only hope you've enjoyed them as much as I did.