These Japanese-Made Guitar Scissors Come With Their Own Mini Stand

Even though I already have drawers and boxes of various stationery items, I’m always on the lookout for things that are cute and unique but still useful for work and my hobbies. Scissors are one of those things you can never have too many of, especially if they serve different functions. There are pairs for everyday cutting, for journaling, for cutting things into cute shapes, and some that are just highly decorative.

If you love stationery and music, the Rockstar Guitar Scissors may be your next tiny purchase. As the name suggests, it’s a pair of scissors shaped like an electric guitar. But more than just being uniquely shaped, the design itself has a role in storing and using the scissors. It’s the kind of item you might want to keep out of your office drawer, and it could also make a small gift or stocking stuffer this upcoming holiday season.

Click Here to Buy Now: Starting at $30

A lot of differently shaped stationery items can just be novelty things that are good to display on your desk. This one, though, has parts that were thought out to match the theme while making it a functional piece for everyday use. So forget about guitar graphics slapped onto a pair of conventional scissors. This one takes the idea further. Well, it still can’t play actual music, of course.

The guitar body separates into the handles, with the finger openings as part of the lower body of the instrument it’s imitating. The narrow neck of the “guitar” separates into the cutting blades. It even has a removable ABS cap that completes the headstock when the scissors are closed. According to the store’s description, the cap also covers the sharp point and prevents the scissors from opening while it’s in place. That gives a decorative detail a useful job when you’re putting the scissors away.

The scissors have stainless steel blades, while the handles and cap use ABS plastic and the stand is made from elastomer. You can choose from three color options: black, metallic blue, and pearl white. They measure about 7.8 inches overall, and the YD Select lists black at US$30; metallic blue and pearl white at US$40 each.

They even come with a stand that holds up your closed scissors like an actual guitar at rest on an instrument stand. For anyone who tends to lose smaller tools among notebooks and pen cases, having a dedicated spot could make them easier to find. Of course, the stand takes up some desk space, so this isn’t really a space-saving solution. It’s more about giving a useful item a place where you’ll actually notice it.

Made in Japan by Nikken Cutlery, the scissors are also known as Seki Sound. Nikken says craftspeople in Seki individually sharpen the blades, and it describes a fluorine-coated finish intended to reduce adhesive sticking when cutting tape. That’s a relevant feature if your stationery projects involve tape, although it shouldn’t be read as a promise that the blades will never need cleaning. The guitar detailing also includes six strings and frets, rather than relying only on the outline.

Compared with options from a big brand like Fiskars, the Rockstar Guitar Scissors put more emphasis on their display-ready shape. Fiskars offers SoftGrip handles, Easy Action spring-assisted opening, and nonstick models, while its MoMA collection puts artwork on familiar scissor handles. The Rockstar design instead turns the whole tool into a miniature instrument, complete with a cap and stand. There isn’t enough evidence to say it cuts better or feels more comfortable than those alternatives; its clearest distinction is how the guitar shape carries through to storage.

I wouldn’t expect the Rockstar Guitar Scissors to replace every specialty scissor in my drawers. What appeals to me is having something with a recognizable personality that still has a reason to be on my desk. For a stationery lover who also loves music, it could make a good holiday gift or stocking stuffer, especially if you’d rather give something useful than another ornament that just sits there. At least this little guitar has a job between its imaginary performances.

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Mori the Mushroom Robot Offers Company Without Saying a Word

A mushroom with glowing eyes is an easier sell for my nightstand than a miniature humanoid. OKA’s Mori takes that approachable shape and gives it a specific job: offering a little company and a reason to pause, without making another screen the center of attention. Currently offered through an early-purchase program, the companion robot uses light, sound, and movement to bring some presence to a quiet room. The ambition is modest enough to feel appealing.

For anyone who wants to unwind without reaching for their phone, the physical design makes a good opening argument. Mori stands just under 12 inches tall at its maximum height, with a broad illuminated cap above a rounded, fabric-covered body. Two eyes peek out from underneath and the fabric contains 25 percent real wool. In the supplied photographs, the proportions suggest a small table lamp that wandered into an animated movie, then decided to stay. I’d happily make room for that silhouette.

Designer: OKA

The backstory gives that friendliness some purpose. OKA cofounder Hua Wang said he spent a decade designing mechanisms that brought people back to their phones. With Mori, he wanted a robot that belonged in a home rather than a large, intrusive machine. That’s a useful starting point. A domestic robot has to earn its place among your furniture before its intelligence becomes particularly interesting.

Mori’s controls lean into that furniture-friendly character. According to OKA, placing both hands on its base starts a guided breathing session, while patting its head makes the cap retract and turns it into a lamp. Light and natural soundscapes provide the setting for those breaks. I like the directness of those gestures. Touching an object to change its behavior feels appropriate here, especially when the proposed activity is stepping away from the usual sequence of opening an app, choosing a menu, and adjusting settings.

Importantly, Mori doesn’t speak in words. Its vocabulary consists of sounds, expressions, light, and movement. That limitation might be its most attractive feature. I don’t particularly want a bedside object to become another conversational obligation. A glance or a small movement leaves more room for interpretation, much like an animated character whose personality comes through before it says anything. The lamp setting also gives its owner a way to dial that personality down, with most companion reactions reduced. Cute still needs an off-ramp.

Of course, those expressive eyes come with a less whimsical consideration: sensing people inside their homes. OKA’s privacy policy says Mori’s core AI runs locally, with camera and microphone inputs processed on the device. Raw audio and image frames are discarded after processing, while recognition information can remain locally to distinguish users. The policy separately allows collection of account, device, and diagnostic information. That distinction matters. Local processing is a welcome design decision, but I’d still read the permissions before inviting a camera-equipped companion onto the dresser.

OKA also says Mori learns and becomes more individual through repeated interaction. That’s the promise I’d reserve judgment on until longer-term use establishes what actually changes. A familiar gesture could become endearing, or simply predictable. The interesting design challenge is giving Mori enough variation to sustain affection without making it demand attention. Its quiet role sets a higher bar than the adorable appearance initially suggests: it needs to remain pleasant when the novelty has worn off.

At $649 before taxes and shipping for First Access orders, Mori is an expensive experiment in companionship. That purchase includes two years of its Nature Time subscription; OKA says basic functions won’t require a paid plan, and the included subscription won’t automatically become a paid one. I’m drawn to the object, but the price makes its everyday behavior more important than its introductory charm. The real payoff would be a robot you enjoy having nearby even when you aren’t actively playing with it. A mushroom-shaped lamp already has a place in a home. Mori has to make the eyes worth paying for.

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Teenage Engineering’s EP-35 Amp Has a Hidden Cable Compartment

The back of Teenage Engineering’s EP-35 opens to reveal a compartment for cables and accessories. It’s a wonderfully unglamorous feature to put on a music gadget. An amp can look perfectly composed in a product photo, but taking it anywhere means figuring out where the supporting cast goes. Giving those loose pieces a home inside the speaker feels like an acknowledgment of how people actually use their equipment.

That practical streak extends beyond storage. Listed for sale at $399, the EP-35 combines a portable speaker, an instrument amplifier, and a USB audio interface. It accepts guitar, microphone, line-level, Bluetooth, and USB audio, with multiple sources able to play together. The problem it addresses is straightforward: playing guitar over a backing track, or adding vocals, shouldn’t require assembling a small equipment department. Here, those connections meet in one box.

Designer: Teenage Engineering

Visually, the EP-35 has the charm of equipment that might belong in a very stylish school science lab. Its gray body, square grille, integrated handle, and orange accents are deliberately matter-of-fact. I like that the speaker drivers remain visible behind the grid. They give the front a slightly awkward, almost characterful expression. Nothing about the proportions suggests an object desperate to disappear into your decor, which is part of its appeal.

The controls make a similar impression. There are physical dials for choosing effects and adjusting their intensity, with eight presets each for guitar and microphone. That’s an approachable arrangement: select a sound, turn a control, hear what changes. I’d rather see that direct relationship on something intended for casual playing than a screen full of options. The microphone effects even include presets called “robo choir” and “frog,” which gives you a fair idea of the intended mood.

The USB audio interface is less visually entertaining but potentially more useful. Connect the EP-35 to a computer and it can serve as a recording interface, giving the same object a role at a desk after it comes home. That continuity makes sense to me. A portable device earns its shelf space more easily when it doesn’t become redundant the moment you’re near a power outlet and a laptop.

Inside the storage compartment, Teenage Engineering has also included a small camp light. It can illuminate the compartment automatically when opened, stay on, or react to incoming audio in disco mode. Tilting the speaker backward makes those LEDs display the battery level. Some of this is useful, some is cheerfully unnecessary. I’m happy with that balance. Checking a battery through a small physical gesture is a more memorable interaction than another tiny percentage readout.

Portability does need a little perspective, though. At about seven pounds, the EP-35 is something you carry by its handle, not casually toss into a small shoulder bag. Teenage Engineering rates battery life at 12 hours with the volume set to five, so that figure shouldn’t be treated as an all-day guarantee at any loudness. It’s also splash-resistant rather than waterproof. Those distinctions matter if the appealing camp light has you mentally packing it for a weekend outdoors.

There’s room to expand the setup, too. Two EP-35s can play Bluetooth audio in stereo through broadcast mode. Teenage Engineering’s instructions let you assign left and right channels by tilting each speaker before starting that mode. Connected instruments take a different route: linking their sound between speakers requires a line-out-to-line-in cable. That’s worth understanding before imagining a completely wireless mini stage. The wireless convenience applies specifically to Bluetooth playback.

For me, the $399 price makes the most sense if those musical connections will get regular use. Someone who only wants background listening would be paying for considerable capability they might never touch. Sound quality still needs a listening test; clever packaging can’t settle that question. But I appreciate the attention paid to what happens between sessions. The music stops, the cables come out, and the EP-35 gives you somewhere to put them. That’s a modest design decision with a very recognizable payoff.

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FilaLoom Weaves Yarn Into 3D Prints Without Extra Motors

Blue and lilac yarn snakes through white plastic ribs in one of FilaLoom’s samples, giving the object a basketlike appearance that makes me want to pick it up. The appeal is easy to understand: intricate geometry only gets you so far when you want an object with a textile character. FilaLoom brings actual yarn into the process, letting the fibers remain visibly, unapologetically themselves.

Developed by industrial and computational designer Joram de Haas for his master’s thesis in Integrated Product Design at TU Delft, FilaLoom lets a desktop 3D printer automatically weave yarn into printed objects. It addresses a practical fabrication problem: combining printed structures with thread without making yarn placement a separate manual task. It’s a working research project, with DIY files available, rather than a finished consumer accessory.

Designer: Joram de Haas

The prototype uses a Bambu Lab A1 fitted with a yarn-depositing tool and a parking station. The printer builds plastic anchor points, picks up the tool, and guides yarn between them. It then parks the tool and resumes printing, securing the yarn where needed. That alternating sequence allows the structure and its textile elements to develop together, rather than requiring someone to thread a completed plastic skeleton afterward.

I like the restraint in the mechanism. FilaLoom uses the printer’s existing movement system, with no additional electronics. A mechanical coupling handles tool changes, while a spring-loaded spool provides adjustable yarn tension. The machine already knows how to move precisely; this attachment gives that movement another useful job.

Visually, the blue-and-lilac sample is a persuasive introduction. Its white vertical elements remain clearly legible, while the colored yarn establishes a contrasting horizontal rhythm. Neither material disappears into the other. To my eye, that makes the construction more interesting than a uniformly textured surface. You can follow the relationship between the ribs and the thread, which gives the pattern a purpose beyond decoration. It looks assembled through its own making.

The thesis also explores soft yarn textures and cable-driven interactions, extending the idea beyond basketlike objects. That range matters because a recognizable woven pattern could easily become the project’s entire identity. I’d be more interested in seeing designers use the process to decide where an object should bend, where it needs structure, or where a different surface character would be welcome. Those are design questions worth experimenting with.

The DIY format gives curious makers somewhere to start. De Haas’s GitHub repository provides printable component files and Grasshopper scripts for generating compatible GCode, the instructions that direct the printer’s movements. Still, that’s a more involved proposition than downloading a decorative planter file and pressing print. For a general audience, the useful distinction is that FilaLoom is an invitation to experiment with a fabrication method, not a ready-made home gadget.

There are physical compromises, too. The researchers report that the attachment reduces the A1’s usable combined printing-and-weaving volume to 54% of its original build volume. Yarn tension also needs care: too much can deform a print or pull it off the build plate. These constraints make the prototype more convincing to me, because its expanded capabilities come with clearly described boundaries.

I wouldn’t judge this project by how quickly it might replace a familiar manufacturing process. Its more immediate value is giving designers a way to test combinations they might otherwise have to assemble by hand. Even a small sample can help answer whether a pattern deserves to become a larger object. That feels like an appropriately useful ambition for a research tool.

For me, the strongest outcome would be an object whose form genuinely needs both materials. The yarn shouldn’t have to justify itself as a decorative flourish, and the plastic shouldn’t merely serve as a bulky substitute for thread. FilaLoom makes that relationship available for exploration. I’d happily trade another perfectly smooth printed vase for an experiment that leaves a little more to discover under your fingertips.

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Aery’s Office Chair Offers a Fit You Can Actually Fine-Tune

A desk setup can look perfect and still feel wrong by lunch. The monitor is aligned, the cables are hidden, and the chair matches the room, yet you’re shuffling around trying to get comfortable. That gap between a workspace that photographs well and one that fits the person using it is the more interesting design problem to me. It’s where EFFYDESK’s Aery Ergonomic Chair makes its case.

For anyone whose office occupies a bedroom corner or shares space with the living room, choosing a chair involves a negotiation. You want something you can spend time in, but you also have to look at it after closing the laptop. The Aery approaches that compromise with a mesh back, a cushioned seat, and adjustments that let its proportions work around the person sitting in it.

Designer: effydesk

The mesh is doing some of the visual work here. A tall upholstered back can become a fairly imposing presence beside a small desk. With the Aery, the open surface allows the supporting structure to remain visible, breaking up what could otherwise read as one large block. It still looks like an office chair, especially with that separate headrest, but its outline has a little breathing room.

I appreciate that it doesn’t try to disguise its purpose. In black, the frame, armrests, and cushion form a straightforward piece of working furniture. It isn’t pretending to be a dining chair you could drag into a meeting. That distinction matters in a home office, where choosing something purely for the room’s aesthetic can leave you making compromises every time you sit down.

The fabric-covered cushion gives the design a softer counterpoint to the mesh back. It also offers a combination that may appeal to people who prefer padding beneath them without wanting an upholstered surface behind their entire torso. I like the visual balance between the two. The seat gives the chair some substance, while the open back keeps that substance from extending all the way upward.

The most useful adjustment is also one of the least visually dramatic: the seat slides forward and backward. Rather than changing the chair’s appearance in any meaningful way, it changes how the cushion sits beneath your legs. That’s worth paying attention to if you’ve ever loved the look of a chair but found yourself perched near its edge because sitting all the way back didn’t feel right.

The movable armrests follow the same thinking. They adjust in height, slide in different directions, and rotate, giving you some freedom to place the supports where your arms naturally rest. The appeal is less about collecting adjustment options than avoiding a fixed position that doesn’t suit you. A chair’s silhouette can look perfectly balanced while its armrests feel entirely wrong for the person using it.

The headrest and reclining back introduce a more relaxed posture into the design. I see the appeal for reading through a document or leaning back between tasks, particularly when the desk is where several parts of your day happen. Still, the headrest feels secondary to getting the seat and arms right. Those are the relationships you live with while doing the work.

I haven’t sat in the Aery, so its cushion comfort and the feel of its controls remain open questions. Images and adjustment lists can explain the design, but they can’t tell me whether an armrest stays put when I want it to. That’s what I’d want to check in person, along with how naturally the chair fits beneath my desk.

What appeals to me is how much of the Aery’s design can be put to an everyday use. The mesh changes its visual presence; the cushion changes the sitting surface; the adjustments offer room to work out a better fit. It gives a home-office buyer reasons to look beyond the styled photograph, while still acknowledging that the chair has to live in the room.

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Chess Without a Flat Board: Turner’s Rotating Tower Concept

A blue king sticks straight out from a checkerboard cylinder, looking remarkably composed for a piece that should be falling onto the table. That sideways stance explains Turner, a rotating magnetic chess concept by Joffey, faster than a technical diagram could. The immediate problem is gravity: a vertical playing surface needs a way to keep its pieces attached. Magnets provide the proposed answer, letting the familiar chessboard curl upright without leaving its army in a heap.

Created for Day 04 of #productober, under the prompt “magnetic,” Turner explores what happens when a board loops back into itself. It’s a concept rather than a finished product, and I like that its ambition is playful rather than pretending chess needs fixing. The appeal is seeing a familiar game become an object you might want to leave out, even between matches.

Designer: Joffey

The supplied images show a blue-and-white grid wrapped around a tall cylinder, capped by dark blue circular ends and supported by a flared pedestal. The base gives it the presence of a small tabletop sculpture. From some angles, it resembles an unusually elaborate trophy. From others, the pieces projecting around its circumference make it look like a tiny planet populated entirely by royalty and horses.

The color does a lot of work here. Deep blue replaces the expected black, giving the set a softer domestic character without sacrificing the contrast with white. I’d happily take that over another aggressively futuristic chess redesign. The pieces retain recognizable silhouettes, so the unfamiliar board has familiar companions. You can still pick out a knight or a king without learning a whole new visual language.

Magnetism also earns its place in the design. Remove it, and the central idea stops working. The pieces are intended to cling to the curved surface while the board rotates, bringing different areas into view. That makes turning the board part of the interaction. Instead of simply surveying a flat field, players would need to reveal portions of the position as they go.

That’s also where my enthusiasm meets a practical reservation. A flat chessboard lets both players inspect the entire position at once. Turner’s cylinder necessarily conceals part of the grid from any single viewpoint. Rotation offers a way to look around it, but remembering what’s on the far side could become another demand on your attention. I can imagine enjoying that extra spatial puzzle. I can also imagine wanting my ordinary board back during a particularly complicated game.

The looping surface raises another question: what happens at the point where opposite edges meet? Joffey’s description suggests a changed way of playing, but the supplied material doesn’t establish a complete rule set. It would be a stretch to assign new movement rules to the pieces. Still, the possibility is intriguing. Joining edges could have consequences beyond appearance if the designer chooses to make that continuity part of play.

I appreciate that Turner doesn’t disguise every familiar feature in pursuit of novelty. The pedestal, restrained palette, and recognizable pieces give your eye enough to understand before the curved grid complicates things. Even the pieces set beside the base in the images help establish scale and context, although no dimensions are provided. You understand that this belongs on a table, within reach, rather than behind glass.

For a developed version, I’d care as much about the feel of removing a pawn as the appearance of the cylinder. Magnetic attachment would need to resist slipping while allowing deliberate moves without an awkward tug. The rotation would need similar care: easy enough to use, controlled enough not to become a distraction. Those are unresolved details, but they’re also where an appealing rendering could become a satisfying physical object.

Turner makes me curious enough to want a game, provided someone explains the rules first. Its appeal lies in having to look around a chessboard that usually gives you everything at once. That could be an entertaining complication, even if it never replaces the flat board in the closet.

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C+C Coffee Machine Concept Turns Hidden Wiring Into Art

Blue lines double back across a white interior. Red coils sit behind them, while a yellow band bends around the top. Jaka Kordiš’s C+C coffee machine concept turns its internal routing into a graphic composition, visible through a clear enclosure. It addresses a modest but recognizable design problem: a coffee maker can belong to your daily routine without feeling particularly connected to your taste. C+C proposes giving that relationship more personality.

Kordiš developed the project in 2024 during a one-week intensive industrial design workshop led by Aleks Tatic of Taticdesign Studio. Participants started with a predefined coffee-machine technical platform, then identified a user group and designed around its lifestyle and expectations. That constraint makes the result more interesting to me. The assignment concentrated on what design could change around an established technical starting point, rather than claiming a new way to brew.

Designer: Jaka Kordiš

The intended audience comes into focus through Kordiš’s target-user moodboard: electronics projects, coding screens, circuit layouts, and worktables crowded with equipment. It suggests people comfortable around technology in its less polished, more exploratory state. I can see the appeal for someone who enjoys assembling a keyboard or investigating how a device works. That is an interpretation of the imagery, though, rather than a formally stated customer profile.

Viewed from the side, C+C almost reads like a transit diagram. Broad groups of parallel lines travel across a finely ribbed white background, with rounded turns and tightly wound red shapes creating a deliberate rhythm. The transparent housing gives that arrangement room to register. My favorite decision is the restraint of the enclosure itself. With this much color inside, an elaborate outer silhouette would have been a distraction.

The front is comparatively calm. A projecting dispensing assembly combines a pale yellow body, blue edging, and a green face, positioned above a ridged cup platform. A black panel on the upper surface depicts drink choices, while a large circular white element anchors the top. The repeated grooves connect these areas visually. Even the quieter surfaces participate in the same vocabulary, so the colorful internals feel integrated rather than pasted on.

The project’s transparent-tech moodboard includes phones, earbuds, and handheld gaming hardware with visible interiors. That reference makes sense, but C+C gives the idea a different domestic role. A coffee machine occupies a place you might look at repeatedly throughout the day. For a reader who cares about how everyday equipment looks, the potential benefit is straightforward: an appliance that contributes something visually, even while it is sitting unused.

That attention to the interior also earned recognition. C+C won the Logitech Future of Work Award at the Render Weekly Awards 2026. In its announcement published May 11, 2026, Render Weekly specifically praised the treatment of the internal details and cable harnesses. The distinction matters because the award recognizes a design submission. It does not establish that Logitech is manufacturing the machine or that a retail release is coming.

The evidence stops short of establishing everyday performance. The designer’s published project description does not provide brewing specifications, pricing, or retail availability, and it presents C+C as a concept. I would want to know how its enclosure opens, how the machine is cleaned, and whether its carefully composed interior survives the demands of production. Those questions would determine whether the visual idea translates into a convincing appliance.

Transparency also raises a useful distinction between seeing a machine and understanding it. The colored routes are engaging, but the images alone cannot tell us what each one does. Nor does visibility establish repairability. A production version could strengthen the idea by making maintenance information as legible as the internal composition. Until then, the clearest reader benefit is aesthetic and emotional, rather than a demonstrated improvement in convenience.

I like C+C most as an argument for paying attention to an appliance’s idle hours. Coffee occupies only part of its life on the counter; the object remains after the cup is gone. This concept gives that presence a purpose. Whether I would want to live with it would eventually depend on cleaning, access, and upkeep, but the visual invitation is already persuasive.

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Prolo Ring Lets You Click and Scroll Without a Mouse

There are days when you work on just your laptop. And then there are days when you have to switch between different devices and therefore also use different controllers. If you have a huge desk or workspace, then that’s probably fine. But if you’re working in a limited space, then the different controllers add to the clutter. What if you have something that can fit onto a finger and let you switch between different devices more easily?

That’s the promise that the Wearable Ring Controller by Prolo is making. Called the Prolo Ring, it is a Bluetooth wearable input controller that can be worn on your index finger. It has a trackpad that your thumb can use to move the cursor and scroll, and a touch strip that your other hand’s index finger can operate. The Pro Edition even supports air gestures, giving you another way to control your devices.

Designer: Prolo

The most noticeable design choice is its wide band. This gives your thumb room to work with an 18 × 30 mm capacitive touch surface rather than a tiny button. According to Prolo, the ring measures 23 mm wide and 2.9 mm thick and weighs between 4.1 and 5.2 grams. Its shell is made from polycarbonate, despite the metallic-looking finishes available for the Pro Edition. The broad profile makes it look more like a wearable tool than a discreet piece of jewelry.

That width also makes sizing important. Prolo lists US sizes 7–18 and requires test wear with its sizing kit or a 3D-printed sizer before you confirm your size. Your usual jewelry size may not translate directly to this wider band. Included adjustment shims help fine-tune a slightly loose fit. You can wear it on either index finger, keeping the trackpad facing your thumb.

The top touch strip, called the Modstrip, handles mode switching and additional commands. The four modes are Cursor, Navigation, Touch, and Air, organizing functions such as pointing, browsing, media playback, and motion gestures. Separating these controls lets the same small surface perform different jobs, although it also means learning which mode you’re using. Some interactions require both hands.

One particularly interesting feature is Joystick Assist. Swipe quickly from one edge of the trackpad to the other and keep holding, and the cursor continues moving. Moving your thumb farther from the center increases its speed; releasing stops it. This addresses the limited travel of a finger-sized trackpad, while ordinary trackpad movements remain available for finer positioning.

Switching devices uses a tap followed by a hold on the Modstrip. The ring disconnects from the current device and reconnects to another saved device, so “instantly” would be an overstatement. It connects to only one device at a time. For someone moving between a laptop and a tablet, the appeal is keeping the same controller rather than reaching for another one.

Basic controls use standard Bluetooth HID, the protocol used by compatible input devices, without requiring a dedicated driver or app. Prolo lists support for Windows, macOS, Linux, Android, and iOS/iPadOS, plus compatible smart TVs and XR devices. Available functions vary by device and app. It can also work alongside your existing mouse and keyboard rather than requiring you to replace them.

The Pro Edition adds more than 40 customizable gestures, assignable shortcuts, macros, and profiles. Prolo Studio, the free desktop companion app, handles customization. You could organize controls around presentations or media playback rather than use every available gesture. Push-to-talk can trigger dictation or AI shortcuts, but the ring has no microphone; a connected device handles the voice input.

Prolo claims up to 10 hours of typical use per charge and includes a magnetic charging cable. The ring is not waterproof, so it needs to come off before showering or swimming. For cramped workspaces, its clearest potential benefit is freeing you from needing a separate mousing surface. Whether that convenience outweighs wearing a broad band and learning its controls will depend on how you work.

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A Stained-Glass Caution Sign You’ll Actually Stop to Admire

The amber shadow on the sidewalk is almost as appealing as the object casting it. Hayden Clay Williams’ stained-glass caution sign takes the familiar folding silhouette and rebuilds it as a sculpture, with golden panels, small colored diamonds, and a slipping figure enclosed in a triangle. I like that you can recognize the source immediately. The glass hasn’t swallowed the design; it gives you a reason to study its familiar parts.

A conventional caution sign has a straightforward problem to solve: make a hazard visible before someone steps into it. Williams keeps that visual shorthand, particularly the upright stance and warning symbol, while changing what happens when light hits the surface. This is an artwork rather than a demonstrated improvement to safety equipment. Its appeal comes from preserving an everyday sign’s identity while making its construction worth a closer look.

Designer: Hayden Clay Williams

The color does much of that work. Rather than reproducing a uniform safety yellow, Williams uses rectangular sections ranging from pale honey to deeper orange and amber. Their uneven textures break up reflections, giving neighboring pieces subtly different appearances. Small diamonds interrupt the grid in green, blue, pink, and rust. The arrangement reminds me of a decorative window transplanted into the cleaning aisle, with enough restraint to keep the warning symbol from disappearing into the pattern.

That symbol deserves its own attention. The triangular border is picked out in pale, translucent glass, separating it from the warmer background without turning it into a completely opaque graphic. Inside, the tumbling figure is drawn through the network of seams between glass pieces. Its circular head and bent limbs remain readable, but the surrounding cuts make the whole triangle feel integrated into the assembly. The image has been worked into the glass rather than simply applied over it.

Williams also retains the less glamorous parts of the original shape. There’s the rounded handle form near the top, the slight taper of the panels, and the rectangular notch between the feet. Those details matter because a flat rectangle of decorative glass with a warning symbol would read very differently. Here, the proportions and cutouts carry the association before you’ve examined the central image. Even the slim perimeter frame leaves the sign’s outline easy to follow.

The construction adds another layer of interest. The two stained-glass panels can be separated, giving the piece a physical logic beyond its surface decoration. Joined at the top, they form the familiar freestanding A-frame. Seen at an angle, the space between them becomes part of the composition, allowing the rear panel’s colors and pattern to appear through the front. I appreciate that Williams has treated the sign as a three-dimensional object, rather than concentrating all the effort on one decorated face.

Sunlight makes that depth particularly clear in the photographs. The panels cast warm, patterned shadows across the ground, extending the grid beyond the sculpture’s edges. The darker seams remain visible within those projections, while the glass contributes patches of color. A molded sign normally occupies a small piece of floor space. Here, the light gives it a second, less predictable footprint, one shaped by where it stands and the direction of the sun.

Of course, glass changes the practical proposition. I wouldn’t mistake the familiar handle shape or folding stance for an invitation to put this beside a supermarket spill. The material introduces a need for care that sits awkwardly, and amusingly, beside the warning about falling. That tension feels earned because the object still looks so much like equipment. Strip away those utilitarian details, and much of the humor would go with them.

I’d display it with room for the shadow, preferably where daylight could pass through both panels. Placing it against a wall would preserve the pattern but lose some of the design’s best work. Williams has made the gap between the panels, the translucent warning, and the surrounding floor worth looking at together. The sculpture needs a little empty space to show how much is happening inside that ordinary silhouette.

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Smartwatch Mobile Charger Hidden in a Hershey’s Kiss-Shaped Shell

We’ve gotten used to bringing along power banks when we’re out and about since we don’t want our smartphones to run low on battery during crucial moments. But now we also have to worry about other devices, like smartwatches. Some need less frequent charging than our phones, but there are still times when we forget to charge them before leaving the house. Before you know it, you find yourself needing some extra juice for your wearable.

miniduct has found a very cute solution to your problem, if you’re rocking a compatible Apple Watch or Samsung Galaxy Watch, that is. Its Kisses Smart Watch Power Bank is shaped like an actual Hershey’s Kiss. Instead of satisfying your sweet cravings, though, this one will power up your smartwatch while you’re on the go. According to its product information, it has a system that aligns with your watch, but there’s also an option to charge other compatible devices through a USB-C port.

Designer: miniduct

Aside from giving your smartwatch extra life when it’s about to run out of charge, this is a cleverly designed accessory that you can carry around with you. It takes the iconic silhouette of a Hershey’s Kiss and its silver-wrapper look and turns it into something other than a snack. It even comes with the tiny white ribbon bearing the word “Kisses,” which doubles as a strap for attaching the device to your bag or pouch. That’s probably the nicest design detail here: a familiar part of the candy packaging gets a practical purpose.

According to the published specifications, the power bank measures approximately 41 millimeters in diameter and 45 millimeters tall, excluding the ribbon. It weighs 40.2 grams, or about 1.4 ounces, and contains a 700mAh battery. That makes it a small backup for your wearable rather than a replacement for the larger power bank you might already carry for your phone.

The charging system is called Auto Fit, and miniduct describes an internal mechanism that automatically aligns with the watch being charged. Its product information explains that the magnets rotate rather than remain fixed to accommodate Apple and Galaxy watches. You’ll still want to check compatibility with your particular model before buying, rather than assume every watch generation is supported.

The chocolate shape also has a job when you put the charger down. miniduct says it positions the watch at a 20-degree viewing angle on a desk, allowing you to check the screen while it charges. You’ll need to take the watch off your wrist, so a break at your desk is a more practical charging opportunity than a workout.

Of course, the small battery comes with limitations. miniduct estimates that it can provide approximately 40% to 120% of a watch battery’s capacity, depending on the model. Some watches therefore won’t get a complete recharge. The brand also notes that features such as GPS, Bluetooth, and an always-on display can reduce the net charge gained. Think of it as an emergency reserve, not a promise of several days away from an outlet.

The product materials also advertise charging support for compatible earbud cases, including wireless charging for supported AirPods cases. USB-C output provides another option for compatible earbuds or an emergency phone top-up. With only 700mAh available, though, charging a phone is a secondary use rather than the main reason to buy it.

The appeal here is having a backup charger that feels like an accessory you’d actually want to bring along. The ribbon gives it a place on your bag, while the familiar shape gives it some personality when it’s sitting on your desk. You’ll still have to remember to charge the power bank itself, but at least this little reminder looks sweeter than another loose cable.

The post Smartwatch Mobile Charger Hidden in a Hershey’s Kiss-Shaped Shell first appeared on Yanko Design.