We opened because we were sick of details that photographed beautifully and unraveled the moment you opened a door — dressing pooled in the cupholders, swirl marks left in the clear coat, jambs still gritty with brine. So we set a rule that hasn't changed since day one: nothing leaves until it passes inspection in real light, panel by panel. Six Wisconsin winters later, that stubbornness is the whole business. Road salt, lake-effect grime, and stop-and-go on the I-94 corridor are brutal on paint, and we build every package around surviving them — not just looking good for a weekend.