Which brings me to Nick Grant and his vintage-inspired workshop in Scotland.

There’s something about the way he’s blended a proper working shop with a space you actually want to spend time in. It’s not just tools and tasks, it’s a place to sit, think, hang out, and enjoy the process. That balance is hard to get right, and he nailed it.

I’m completely taken with it.

Anyway, have a look through the gallery.

It’s exactly the kind of project I daydream about constantly and never quite make time for. And that’s probably the other thing I admire most about her, the energy. She just does the work. No overplanning, no waiting for the perfect moment.

Anyway, I’ve really enjoyed following along with this build and figured some of you guys might as well. Here’s the playlist.

This is one of those gallery threads I’ve been quietly following for years. One of the very few that makes me stop whatever pointless task I’m in the middle of, sit down at a proper computer, and actually click the notification the second it pops up. And that got me thinking—if it gets under my skin like that, it probably deserves a little more attention. Some things are just too good to keep to yourself.

You can follow it yourself here. You’ll be glad ya did.

I should say up front, I dabble in this world myself. Or more accurately, I dabble in watch modding. I love taking vintage watch parts, mostly Rolex and Tudor, mixing original components from different eras with a few well-made reproductions (read:fake), and building what I think of as hot rod watches.

But this is a whole different animal. This is a guy restoring watches with tools and techniques I can’t even pretend to understand. He’s clearly trained, both through formal education and years of experience, and it shows. The level of precision and care is unreal, and the end result is a watch that’s as close to new as a vintage piece can realistically get.

That’s not to say I agree with every choice he makes. I’d never polish a vintage case, revisionist history just isn’t my thing, and I’d never remove an engraving either. Erasing history, even in the name of restoration, doesn’t sit right with me.

Still, watch this guy work. Take in the tools he’s collected and mastered over a lifetime. This is seriously cool stuff.

This morning I somehow slipped headfirst into a cobbler rabbit hole. There’s a surprisingly deep pool of boot and shoe repair channels on YouTube, and I have no idea if this guy is the guy, but I love how he approaches his work. And as a Red Wing devotee, I can’t argue with the end result.

His storefront is fantastic too – packed with everything needed to rebuild a boot from the ground up, all of it carrying just the right amount of patina. My kind of place entirely. And apparently, if you need a key cut while you’re in there, he’s your man for that too.

Anyway, enjoy the video:

Still, it’s not all bad. Every now and then, the voyeurism of it all turns into something worthwhile – something that teaches instead of just screams. Case in point: Huy Vector.

I don’t know Huy. Not one bit. I also don’t have much experience soldering microchips, wiring OLED screens, or bending 1mm copper wire into functioning art. But it doesn’t matter. The man works with precision, intellect, and style… and that is absolutely something that keeps my attention.

Watching him do his thing is like watching science (is that the right word?) and art shake hands. Go check him out… you’ll get it immediately.

The Lab isn’t your typical new build. It’s more of a resurrection – an old-world brick-and-timber beauty being brought back to life, with a few smart additions to make it actually usable in the modern sense.

I won’t spoil the whole thing here. This is one of those threads you need to read from the start. But I’ll say this: it’s damned inspiring.

Go give it a look.

Steve’s my closest friend on the island and the kind of renaissance man you can’t pin down. He’s a hot rodder, an artist, a surfer, a surfboard shaper, a story teller, and the host of one of the most wonderfully chaotic rock ’n’ roll shows I’ve ever heard on public radio. The man’s just good at everything and just like his surfing, he makes it all look effortless and more stylish than it should be.

We had dinner at his place the other night, and after the plates were cleared, he gave my daughter a crash course in surfboard shaping. While they worked, I wandered into his shop and started snapping photos on my phone.

I’ve always loved checking out other people’s workspaces, but Steve’s is something else entirely. Space is tight on an island, and when you work in a dozen different mediums across all kinds of projects, you’d expect chaos. But in Steve’s hands, it’s organized chaos. It’s artful piles of tools and supplies, all of it exactly where he needs it.

At the end of the day, it’s just a two-car garage in paradise. But standing there, surrounded by the salt air and the clutter that somehow isn’t clutter, I could’ve stayed for hours and just studied. Anyway, enjoy the photos:

But what does set my nerve endings on fire is the stubborn, almost fanatical commitment to tradition—products built the same way, generation after generation, not just to maintain quality, but to preserve the craft itself. That’s the good fight. That’s the kind of madness I can get behind.

Which is why this video is pure gold. Yard-O-Led isn’t just making writing instruments—they’re keeping a lost art alive, using tools so specific, so refined by time and experience, that they might as well be religious relics. This isn’t just manufacturing; it’s alchemy. A rare glimpse into a world where patience and precision still matter.

Check it out:

Here’s the quick and dirty: Dave is a former set designer and prop builder who cut his teeth at Industrial Light & Magic during what many would call the golden age of cinematic wizardry. You know the era—the kind of movies that made your jaw drop and your imagination spin out of control. Now, Dave spends his time making YouTube videos on his channel, the Cinodrome, where he conjures brilliance with nothing but his hands, his mind, and a sharp sense of style.

Do I really need to say more? Just dive in. Head over to the Cinodrome, and before you know it, you’ll be 100 hours deep, lost in a labyrinth of ingenious building techniques and stunningly cinematic visuals. It’s not just good—it’s so damned good it makes most of what’s out there look like amateur hour.

Go now!