A small company, behind the scenes for decades

Touch of Yoga grew inside defactoAsia, a small artisan-based jewelry company rooted in Bangkok — the world's gemstone hub. Long before we had our own brand, our parent company spent decades making jewelry for international labels.
Not in a factory. Not at scale. One careful piece at a time.

The people doing that work were skilled craftspeople — gemstone cutters, setters, polishers — and many who are running home-based workshops and passing their craft down through family. We were never the name on the tag. We were the hands behind it.

"No factory lines. No mass production. Just skilled people doing honest work."

We say this not to earn sympathy, but to be clear about who we are. We are not a trendy startup with a mission statement. We are a small company that came up slowly, in the background, learning the craft from people who had no other choice but to get it right.

When big wins, who actually loses?

The system wasn't designed for people like our fellow artisans

As the global jewelry market evolved, something started to shift — not in craftsmanship, but in power. Large corporations began competing with cheaper, faster, disposable jewelry. And because of their enormous buying volumes, they could push prices down across the entire supply chain.

This is not a distant economic theory. This is something we watched happen around us. The gemstone cutter who used to earn a fair wage for a day's careful work was now being asked to accept less — or risk losing the order to someone cheaper. Small workshops were squeezed between rising costs and falling rates. The gap between large corporations and small independent makers grew wider, year after year.

This is what capitalism looks like at the bottom of a supply chain. Those with the most buying power set the terms. Everyone else adapts — or disappears.

"Big corporates expanded. Costs were squeezed. And small makers — real people with families — couldn't survive inside this system."

Something real disappears when everything must be cheap — but what exactly are we losing?

When the market values speed above skill, handmade work becomes "too slow." Real materials become "too expensive." Fair wages become "too high."

So workshops close — not because their craft lost value, but because the rules of the game changed. And when they close, they do not just take a business with them. They take a livelihood. A skill set built over a lifetime. An income that was paying school fees, keeping a family housed, supporting a small community.

  • A gemstone cutter forced to undercharge simply to stay in work.
  • A home workshop shut down because the orders stopped coming at a viable rate.
  • A craft that took decades to refine — gone in a single generation.
  • Families left without sustainable income, with no formal employment to fall back on.

This is not nostalgia. This is what happens when the market is allowed to move without consideration for the people inside it. We are not asking for pity. We are asking that this be seen clearly.

We could have followed the easy road. Here's why we didn't.

There was a point where we had to decide what kind of company we wanted to be. The easier path was obvious: produce faster, lower costs, chase volume, compete on price. Many businesses made that choice. We understand why.

But if we followed that path, our own craftspeople — people we have worked with for years — would face the same fate as everyone else. We would be contributing to the very system we watched quietly dismantle the communities around us.

"We chose to remain intentionally small, so every piece continues to receive the attention it deserves.

We chose ethics over speed, and intention over volume."

That is not a marketing line. It is a decision made under real commercial pressure, with the full understanding of what it costs. It means “Growth”, for us, is measured in craftsmanship, not speed. It means we say no to certain orders. It means our pieces cost more than fast-fashion
jewelry, and always will.


We made that choice anyway. Because a company that does not stand for its people when it is difficult does not really stand for anything.

Is slow, small, and handmade still worth it?

Only a small number of pieces are released at a time, because every stage moves through real hands, not factory lines.

We work with local gemstone cutters, home-based artisans, and small independent suppliers who share our approach.

We pay fairly. Not as a brand value statement, but as a practical commitment: we do not accept pricing that would require our suppliers to undercut their own dignity to fulfil an order. If a price doesn't work for them, it doesn't work for us.

Our pieces are made to last. They are repairable. The materials can be recycled. Nothing is designed to be discarded. We will not flood the market with seasonal collections or trend chasing pieces — that is not what we are here to do.

We are here to make fewer things, exceptionally well, for those who intend to keep them.

Your money goes somewhere. Do you know where?

When you choose a piece from us, it moves through a short, visible chain. It reaches real people doing real work. Here is what that can look like:

One piece you keep forever vs. ten you forget by next season.

We will be direct about this: we are not here to encourage more buying. We create pieces meant to be chosen with intention and kept for years. In a world built around speed and replacement, we believe some things should still be worth waiting for.

Each piece is released in limited quantities and made to stay with you — not just for a season, but for the moments and memories it comes to hold. We would rather you choose one piece that becomes part of your life than ten pieces that disappear into a drawer.

"Buy fewer things. Buy things that last. Buy from people you can actually trace."

Our pieces are repairable. They are made from real materials. They carry a meaning that was built into them by the person who made them, not stamped on by marketing. We would rather you buy one piece from us that you keep for years than ten pieces you forget about by next season.

That is what mindful buying looks like to us. And it is good — for you, for the people who made your jewelry, and for the communities they live in.