After three decades in my workshop, surrounded by the scent of freshly cut walnut and the satisfying rasp of hand planes, I can tell you this: building closets is about so much more than assembling boxes. It’s about understanding how someone lives, what they treasure, and then crafting custom closets that become silent partners in their daily life. This is the Italian way—we build with our hands and our hearts.
How I Design and Build Closet Systems
Every project begins the same way in my workshop—I sit with clients over espresso, sketching on paper, asking questions. Show me your favorite jacket. Tell me about your morning routine. Do you prefer to see everything at once, or discover pieces gradually? These conversations shape the closet systems I’ll eventually build with my own hands.
When I’m designing modular closet components, I’m already visualizing the wood I’ll select from my lumber storage. That particular walnut board with the cathedral grain—perfect for the visible doors. These figured maple pieces—they’ll become the interior closet drawers where my client will see them every day. Each wardrobe closet I build starts as raw timber that I personally choose, joint, and plane before any joinery begins.
My approach to walk in closets draws from generations of Italian furniture makers. My grandfather taught me that every joint should be stronger than necessary, every surface worthy of touch, every detail considered even if hidden. When you open one of my closet drawers, you’ll find dovetails cut by hand, not machine. The bottom panel sits in a groove, floating to accommodate seasonal wood movement—just as it should be.
The Workshop Reality of Building Custom Closets
Let me walk you through my process. When someone commissions wardrobes or storage solutions, I begin by templating the space myself—no delegating this step. I measure twice, three times, checking for walls that aren’t plumb, floors that slope, ceiling heights that vary. These imperfections become part of my design calculations. Italian buildings, especially historic ones, rarely have square corners. My closet design must accommodate reality, not idealized dimensions.
Back in the workshop, I lay out the project full-scale on my assembly table. This old-school method—drawing actual components at real size—reveals problems before I waste expensive materials. Where will that close organizer hinge clear the adjacent shelf? How will I route power to the LED strips without visible conduit? Can the client actually reach that top shelf, or am I designing for someone seven feet tall?
Material selection consumes more time than clients realize. I visit my suppliers personally, examining boards, rejecting pieces with defects, matching grain patterns. For a small closet organizer, I might use a single plank, book-matched, so the grain mirrors itself symmetrically. For larger walk in closets, I maintain grain continuity across multiple doors—this requires planning and patience.
Crafting Wardrobe Closet Components by Hand
Much of what I build uses machinery—I’m pragmatic about efficiency—but certain operations demand hand tools. Those closet drawers receive hand-cut dovetails because the joint is superior and beautiful. Drawer fronts get hand-planed to perfect fit—no sanding can achieve the same surface quality. Interior edges receive slight chamfers, broken by hand with a block plane, eliminating sharp corners that might snag delicate fabrics.
Hardware installation is meticulous work. Those soft-close drawer slides? I don’t just screw them in place. I create jigs ensuring perfect alignment, test the action repeatedly, adjust until the resistance feels right throughout the entire travel. Hinges receive the same attention—mortised to exact depth, positioned for proper reveal, adjusted until doors hang perfectly even as seasons change and humidity fluctuates.
When building modular closet systems, joinery becomes critical because components must connect seamlessly while remaining adjustable. I use traditional European cabinet connectors—not visible from outside, but allowing precise alignment and future reconfiguration. Your closet systems can evolve as needs change, thanks to thoughtful engineering hidden within the construction.
Finishing Work That Honors the Material
After joinery comes finishing—the step that separates adequate furniture from heirloom pieces. I hand-sand every surface, working through multiple grits, feeling with my fingertips for any imperfection. My wardrobes and storage solutions receive finishes I mix myself: oil-based polyurethane tinted with earth pigments for warmth, or traditional shellac applied in thin coats, building depth gradually.
For custom closets destined for humid climates, I use conversion varnish—more durable than lacquer, more forgiving than polyurethane. Between coats, I rub out the surface with fine abrasives, creating a satin sheen that shows the wood rather than the finish. This takes days. Production shops rush this process; I refuse to.
Interior surfaces of closet drawers receive lining—sometimes leather, sometimes felt, sometimes suede depending on what they’ll hold. I cut these linings myself, gluing them carefully, ensuring edges don’t lift or bubbles form. These are details clients might never consciously notice, but they’ll feel the quality every time they open a drawer.
Installing Walk In Closets On Site
Installation day brings its own challenges and satisfactions. I arrive early, components loaded carefully in my van, each piece wrapped in blankets. Wardrobe closet sections are numbered corresponding to my shop drawings—no confusion about what goes where.
I work methodically, starting with base cabinets, checking level continuously. Floors are never flat; I compensate with shims, scribing toe kicks to follow floor contours. Wall cabinets hang from a ledger board I install first, ensuring everything aligns horizontally even if walls aren’t plumb. Those walk in closets must feel solid, built-in, permanent—not like freestanding furniture that might topple.
Fitting closet systems into irregular spaces requires problem-solving on site. Maybe that crown molding projects further than the measurements indicated—I scribe the cabinet side to match. Perhaps electrical outlets sit exactly where a cabinet back needs to be—I notch around them carefully. This isn’t production work with standardized solutions; it’s custom craftsmanship responding to specific conditions.
The Details That Define Quality Closet Design
Let me share what separates exceptional custom closets from adequate ones. First, wood selection—I use solid hardwood for anything visible, quality plywood for structural components, never particleboard anywhere. Second, joinery—mechanical fasteners supplement traditional joints, never replace them. Third, hardware—I source from Italian and German manufacturers whose products operate smoothly for decades.
Fourth, and perhaps most important: thoughtful design that considers actual use. That small closet organizer needs interior lighting because nobody can see into deep corners. Those closet drawers require dividers so contents don’t shift and jumble. Hanging rods must be positioned at ergonomic heights, not just evenly spaced. The closet walk entry needs clearance for someone carrying an armload of clothes, not merely the minimum code requirement.
I build modular closet components slightly oversized, then fit them precisely on site. This old-world approach—called “scribing”—ensures cabinet sides meet walls perfectly, even when walls aren’t straight. The visual result appears seamless, as though the wardrobes grew from the architecture rather than being installed afterward.
Working With Clients on Their Vision
The relationship between builder and client shapes the project profoundly. I encourage clients to visit the workshop while I’m building their storage solutions—seeing work in progress builds trust and allows adjustments before completion. Someone might realize, seeing the actual closet drawers, that they need more shallow compartments and fewer deep ones. Better to modify now than regret later.
I maintain ongoing communication through the build process, sending photos showing grain patterns I’ve selected, hardware options I’m considering, finish samples on actual project wood. These custom closets represent significant investment; clients deserve to feel involved in decisions. Sometimes they defer to my experience—”You’re the craftsman, choose what’s best.” Other times they have strong preferences I work to accommodate.
For walk in closets, I often suggest visiting the site multiple times during construction. We’ll stand in the space together, I’ll mark heights with tape on walls, and we’ll walk through imaginary morning routines. This reveals whether that planned island will feel obstructive, whether mirror placement creates useful reflections, whether the closet walk flow makes practical sense.
Sustainable Building Practices
Italian craftsmen traditionally worked with local materials, and I maintain this ethic where possible. Walnut and oak from regional forests, finished with natural oils, built to last generations—this is sustainable design. Those closet systems won’t end up in landfills after a decade because someone wants a different style. They’ll be refinished, adjusted, perhaps reconfigured, and continue serving for lifetimes.
I minimize waste obsessively. Cutoffs become drawer dividers or small close organizer components. Sawdust goes to local farms for animal bedding. Even finishing materials—I use water-based products when appropriate, properly dispose of solvents, avoid aerosol applications. Building wardrobes shouldn’t harm the environment my grandchildren will inherit.
The modular closet approach supports sustainability too. Need more hanging space later? I build and install additional sections that match perfectly because I’ve kept records of wood lots, finish formulas, and construction details. Your wardrobe closet can evolve without replacement, adapting to life changes rather than requiring disposal and rebuilding.
Teaching the Next Generation
Two apprentices work in my shop now, learning the way I learned—by doing, making mistakes, trying again. They’re mastering how to cut dovetails for closet drawers, how to fit doors with uniform reveals, how to achieve glass-smooth surfaces through patient sanding. Sometimes I watch them work and see my younger self, struggling with the same challenges I faced decades ago.
This knowledge transfer matters. If we don’t teach these skills, custom closets become commodities—flat-packed, particle board, assembled with Allen keys. There’s a place for that, certainly, but also for the alternative: storage solutions built by craftsmen who understand wood movement, who can read grain and anticipate how pieces will behave across seasons, who take pride in work that outlasts them.
My apprentices will someday build their own walk in closets, wardrobes, and complete closet systems, carrying forward techniques refined over generations. That continuity—from my grandfather to me to them—embeds history into every project we complete.
The Satisfaction of Completed Projects
Installation’s final moments always move me. Hardware adjusted, doors swinging perfectly, drawers gliding smoothly, lighting activated, and then watching clients explore their new custom closets for the first time. They open those closet drawers I’ve obsessed over, run hands along surfaces I’ve sanded for hours, step into walk in closets I’ve envisioned and constructed over weeks.
Sometimes they’re speechless—good speechless, I hope. They might notice that book-matched grain, or remark on how substantial the doors feel, or simply stand quietly taking it in. Those moments justify the splinters, the sawdust, the late nights in the workshop perfecting details they’ll never consciously notice but will experience daily.
I know these closet systems will serve them for decades. That wardrobe closet will hold their clothes through life changes—career transitions, perhaps children leaving home, retirement, aging. My work becomes part of their daily rituals, their private moments preparing to face the world. That’s not just building closets—that’s contributing to how people live.
Building Your Story
Every project tells a story. Those small closet organizer solutions for a young couple’s first apartment—watching them agonize over colors, stretch their budget for solid wood instead of veneer, their excitement when installed. The massive walk in closets for a fashion collector, requiring custom LED lighting and museum-quality displays. The wardrobes for an elderly client downsizing but refusing to compromise on quality—”I want this to outlast me,” she said.
I’m privileged to build these stories, to create storage solutions that become backdrops for lives unfolding. My hands shape the wood, but clients’ needs and dreams shape the designs. Together we create closet design that’s both deeply personal and built to transcend individual taste, serving not just the original owner but perhaps generations to follow.
So when you’re considering custom closets, remember: you’re not just buying furniture. You’re commissioning craftsmanship, engaging with tradition, supporting skills refined over lifetimes. You’re investing in something built to last, by someone who cares not just about completion but about excellence.
Fatto a mano. Fatto con cura. Fatto per sempre.
Made by hand. Made with care. Made to last forever.
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