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To browse slowly is to own with commitment.

Frames in extra small to extra large. Goldilocks would have a lovely time.

Your eyes are about 1 inch across and weigh 0.25 ounces.

9.5 out of 10 people would recommend Cubitts. We're working on the other 0.5.

Ommetaphobia is the fear of eyes.

For changing eyes and errant lives. Explore repairs, rehabs, and reglazing.

The time for speculation is now. Try on spectacles virtually with The Speculator.

To browse slowly is to own with commitment.

Frames in extra small to extra large. Goldilocks would have a lovely time.

Your eyes are about 1 inch across and weigh 0.25 ounces.

9.5 out of 10 people would recommend Cubitts. We're working on the other 0.5.

Ommetaphobia is the fear of eyes.

For changing eyes and errant lives. Explore repairs, rehabs, and reglazing.

The time for speculation is now. Try on spectacles virtually with The Speculator.

Cubitts — KidSuper

For KidSuper’s Paris show, The Boy Who Jumped The Moon, we were asked to turn a sketch into reality — a single doodle of a pair of sunglasses with one wild, winged lens. A drawing made in seconds, translated into a wearable object.

 

KidSuper — the alter ego of artist-designer Colm Dillane — is known for blending art, fashion, and storytelling into vivid worlds of play and possibility.

We began by taking the sketch and developing it into a workable frame design - a bold, oversized silhouette with a sculptural brow and saddle bridge, built to house custom lenses. From there, we reinterpreted the jagged motif, hand-cutting both the frame and the lens to mirror the illustration’s chaotic charm.

Sketch my Colm, founder of KidSuper.

“It started as a quick scribble from Colm and turned into one of the most playful, surreal frames we’ve made this year - a jagged little tribute to that wild KidSuper spirit. Designed in just a few days and brought to life by our workshop. It’s not every day you get to design a frame just to destroy it.” Ryan Davren Cubitts Designer.

(Right) A mitre angle is added to the frame front and the temple end. Both are cut at 45 degrees, giving the temples 90 degrees of travel. Cutting the temples is a delicate procedure; small amounts of material are slowly shaved off, and the temples are constantly opened to ensure an even and straight fit.

Put in the tumbler overnight to remove the harshest edges, the work by hand begins.

A foot operated dremel is used to round the edges, slowly removing unwanted material to form constant lines and curves.

We exaggerated the irregularity of the sketch - torn-looking edges, a deliberately crude symmetry. The frame toes the line between absurdist doodle and bold statement, more gesture than geometry.

We milled it from a single slab of 6mm acetate to preserve that blocky, graphic feel, leaning into the rawness rather than refining it. Sharp lens edges give just enough depth to echo the jagged linework without over-polishing.

Time on the polishing wheel gives removes evidence of the above processes, giving a uniform, gloss finish.

Cutting the frame was easy, cutting the lens without cracking it was harder.

A prominent saddle bridge adds structure, while clean, minimal temples anchor the chaos. No logos, no engraving - nothing to distract from the frame’s presence.

Designed in London, made in our workshop, and on the Paris runway four days later. A frame born to be broken, and possibly never worn again.

Sharpening the lens spikes with the belt sander.