About Us
I put everything into getting the brace right. But I kept watching families struggle anyway.
After more than ten years working as an orthotist — at University College London Hospitals, Great Ormond Street, and now in specialist paediatric practice — I've spent my career designing and fitting leg braces for children and adults with some of the most complex conditions imaginable.
Each brace is bespoke. I take meticulous care over the prescription, the padding, the fit, the materials. I work directly alongside the people who manufacture them. I think carefully about how each millimetre of contact will feel against a patient's skin through a full day.
And then I'd watch the family leave the clinic, and I knew that by the end of the week, the sock would be bunching, the skin would be red, and the morning routine would be a battle.
Not because the brace was wrong. Because everything around it wasn't designed for it.
The system around the brace matters as much as the brace itself.
That realisation changed how I think about orthotic care.
A brace doesn't exist in isolation. It exists inside a sock, inside a shoe, inside a family's daily routine. It's worn by a child who needs to get to school, by an adult who needs to get through a working day. The prescription is only as good as the experience of actually wearing it.
And yet almost nothing in the world is designed with that experience in mind.
The socks families use are cotton socks, school socks, whatever fits. The shoes are oversized, wide-fitting designs that accommodate the brace but were never truly built around it — just scaled up and marketed as orthotic-friendly. The everyday products that make up the system around the brace are almost entirely mass-produced items that were never designed for orthotic users, and never designed for the SEND (Special Educational Needs and Disabilities) community. They get retrofitted and repackaged as solutions.
I've seen what happens when interface products are actually designed for purpose. As a dual-qualified prosthetist and orthotist, I've watched prosthetic users move from cotton interface socks to precision silicone liners — and seen the difference it makes to comfort, skin health, and confidence. Prosthetics went through that revolution. Orthotics hasn't yet.
That gap is what Orthotico exists to close — one product at a time, starting with the most overlooked part of the system.
"Prosthetics went through that revolution. Orthotics hasn't yet."
Orthotico starts at the interface — with BraceLiner.
It sounds simple — a sock — but everything about it is designed specifically for the environment inside a brace. The thickness, the seam construction, the materials, the length, the cushioning placement. I know exactly where braces create friction, where they trap heat, where pressure builds. I designed around those points.
I also work daily with other clinicians and therapists whose insight continually informs what Orthotico builds. This isn't a product designed in isolation — it reflects what people who work with orthotic users every day actually see and hear.
If you're reading this, you probably already know the frustration. The bunching. The red marks at the end of the day. The morning battle just to get the brace on comfortably. You've likely already tried different socks, different routines, different workarounds.
That's what I'm building Orthotico to fix. Not with a compromise but with something actually designed for this.
Jack Choong
Senior Orthotist & Founder | Orthotico
Small changes at the interface can make a meaningful difference.