The objects that surround us can hold great sentimental value. If you’d like to create custom pieces inspired by your own stories, you’re in the right place. On this page, you’ll find a collection of stories told through objects Jugošik has designed—each carrying its own history, memories, and a new life in contemporary spaces. Let them inspire your own journey.
Have a story to share or want your family heritage to shine again?
Collage: Maruša Štibelj
Maja's dreams
Snowdrops and daffodils, pussy willows and violets…” Maja listens to the cheerful singing of her daughters, their sweet voices echoing from their room. Finally, they’ve found something to occupy themselves—and she has a few precious minutes just for herself! Exhausted, she sinks into the couch and gazes thoughtfully at the two lamps gently lighting up the room.
Maybe it’s the song the girls are singing, or perhaps the bell-shaped lamps… but suddenly, Maja’s thoughts drift to a Sunday afternoon in the early nineties. It was early spring, and she was walking through the forest with her mother. Everything fascinated her back then, and her mother taught her about it all—about leaves, pinecones, flowers, and animals.
She remembers that day they brought home a bouquet of snowdrops, her mother’s favorite. It’s been a long time since they walked together in the woods. For Mother’s Day, I’ll pick her a bouquet of snowdrops, Maja decides.
She rises from the couch, turns off the lamps, and heads to the girls’ room. Rest time is over. There’s still so much she wants to teach them—about leaves, pinecones, flowers, and animals. About love. About life.
You can explore snowdrop, daffodil, and other floral-inspired lights in our online store, and order Maja’s chandelier directly via the link below.
who is
irena?
Irena’s love language is food. In fact, that’s how it all began—she met him at a cooking class. From that moment on, they began treating each other to their favorite dishes on special occasions.
One evening, as Irena sets the table for dinner, her thoughts drift to her grandmother’s porcelain plate set—the one with tiny blue daisies they received as a wedding gift. She can’t believe it’s already been fifteen years since then.
Lost in warm memories, Irena rummages through the sideboard. In the soft glow of the chandelier lighting the top shelf, she sees her grandmother’s plates. As she wipes off the dust, she suddenly imagines her grandmother standing before her, saying: “Irena, listen—love is like porcelain. Precious, but fragile. Take good care of it!”
She tries to remember the last time they used those plates—perhaps last Christmas, maybe on Valentine’s Day.
When they were younger, she used to prepare his favorite dish every year for his birthday—stuffed peppers. He’s not a picky eater; he loves simple, homemade meals that take him back to his childhood.
And then it strikes her: If love is like porcelain, why am I dusting it off again? Why do we save it only for special occasions?
“You know what, Grandma? Porcelain is porcelain. But love—love should be for every day.”
Check out Irena’s chandelier and let love shine every day!
Collage: Maruša Štibelj
A Seat for Stories and Silence
Antonija was the name of Jan’s grandmother. He loved visiting her—she had four identical chairs in the kitchen where she would seat her grandchildren and serve them sweet milk porridge on summer days. Sadly, Jan never met his grandfather Anton, but Antonija was a strong and remarkable woman, and the moment Jan saw these chairs again, he immediately thought of her.
Now fully restored and comfortable, these two chairs have become a special pair—ready to host conversations, shared moments, or quiet reflections in peaceful silence.
The Glow of Bread, Fire, and Family Lights
When I first met Ula, she told me that what she remembers most from her parents’ house is the old tiled stove—and how much she loves baking for her own family. She had lived not far from there and often visited other families in the same neighborhood where she has now settled with her own family.
Last year, she and her partner decided to renovate the ground floor of their multi-family house. The purpose of our meeting was to discuss ideas for the space. We walked through the rooms, thinking about which existing pieces of furniture to keep, what to move elsewhere, and what might be preserved only in part.
Finally, we went down to the basement, where Ula showed me a chandelier that used to hang in the living room with the old tiled stove. It had spent years gathering dust, waiting for its next chapter…
I completely dismantled the chandelier and decided to reuse only the pale yellow glass shades with a golden line—small, rounded pieces that I paired with clear glass globes. When lit, the yellow glass glows with a special warmth, reminiscent of the tiled stove where Ula now bakes bread for her family.
black
sideboard
My family moved three times, and wherever we went, the black living room set my parents bought shortly after they got married came with us. To be honest, I never particularly liked it, but over the years, I grew used to it. So when my parents decided to give it away, I felt oddly unsettled.
At the same time, I was searching for a sideboard for my own living room and thought—why not reuse part of the black set? The three upper cabinets seemed just the right size. Instead of mounting them on the wall again, I added legs I had saved long ago after randomly stumbling upon them near a bulk waste collection. I replaced the handles and connected the cabinets with a stone shelf.
Suddenly, the sideboard felt completely new—and now, every time I look at it, it makes me smile. It’s a piece that carries the past into the present, perfectly fitting into the home I’m now creating for myself.
summers by the sea
ust before summer, lamps were created for a family of five. During the first visit, their beautiful collection of sea shells immediately stood out—a reminder of the many summers spent on Korčula, the charming Croatian island.
Three lamps for three children—lighting the way for future family adventures, under the warm sun, by the sea, or at home.
The shells seemed to capture the spirit of their carefree summers—days full of simple joys and unforgettable moments, like those written in a child’s diary:
*“We slept until 10. After breakfast, we went swimming—the water was cold, and we found a shell while diving. Later, we played cards and memo, then went for mini-golf.
The sea was wild, and we jumped into the big waves. We collected five cuttlebones before heading back for pizza, ice cream, and dancing on the terrace.”*
Now, the lamps gently light up moments just like these—turning everyday life into lasting memories.
Where Perfumes
and Stories Linger
Karin was looking for lamps to perfectly complement the renovation of her apartment, designed by the Ropot Group. We chose delicate, bell-shaped glass shades—without yet knowing the beautiful story her home carries.
*“My great-grandfather opened a drugstore here in 1911, later run by my grandfather, Anton Kanc. It was a popular place—known as the first in Ljubljana with a lighted sign—and filled with the wonderful scents of perfumes and aromas.
My grandfather was a master at blending fragrances. I remember his tiny bottles of essential oils and how customers brought their own bottles to refill—a true zero-waste shop long before its time.
This love for fragrances filled our home with warmth and passed on to my father, a pharmacist with a refined sense of smell. Today, I continue that legacy by creating natural perfumes myself.”*
remembering
grandma
frančiška
Frančiška was my grandmother’s name, but we all called her Fani. As a child, she told me stories about living on a farm just above Škofja Loka. I can only vaguely remember the house—and, in truth, I’m not even sure if I was ever really there or if I simply imagined it so vividly from her stories. Almost as clear, yet equally distant, is the memory of standing with my cousin and sister on the road that once passed by her house—by then already demolished—staring in wonder at a fire salamander.
I found the drawers that now make up the Frančiška sideboard in a half-collapsed house on the other side of Slovenia. Amid crumbling stone walls and sagging floors stood an old kitchen cupboard, its drawers surprisingly well preserved. Back in the workshop, I intended to strip away the old paint entirely, but after the first application of solvent, a delicate salamander-like pattern emerged. I decided, in that moment, to keep it—as a quiet reminder of that vivid childhood memory.
