A Private Members Association for discriminating luxury leather bag lovers
Free shipping within the United States
A Private Members Association for discriminating luxury leather bag lovers
Free shipping within the United States
What does a handmade leather bag really look like before it becomes an object of desire? Not on a display stand or tucked under a polished arm—but in the raw, during the hours when no one’s watching. When the decisions are still being made, and the materials haven’t yet decided how they’ll behave.
This is not a factory tour. There are no employees on shifts, no high-speed cutters or pressurized timelines. Present is just a craftsman, a bench, and a piece of full-grain leather with its own mind. This is what it looks like inside an independent studio. And this is what you’re really carrying, when you choose a handmade leather bag.
Each day begins quietly. I don’t warm up with emails. I warm up with work. Every step matters when making handmade leather bags.
Usually that means reviewing what’s on the bench, checking what stage a particular bag is in, and assessing the order queue. I may be finishing a tote in a bold seasonal hue or cutting panels for a custom baguette bag requested by a Private Atelier member. But the sequence is always the same: clear tools, clear hands, clear mind.
My studio is small and self-contained. No assistants, no outsourcing. I work alone, and everything made here begins and ends under my hands.
I don’t design every pattern from scratch. Many of my silhouettes begin with a pattern drafted by an independent, professional bag pattern maker—someone whose specialty is the architectural side of bag construction. From there, I adapt the pattern, refine proportions, and align its details with my aesthetic.
Sometimes that means deepening the gusset or shifting a handle placement by millimeters to better suit a bag’s intended weight and flow. The changes are rarely dramatic, but they’re always purposeful.
These aren’t idle tweaks—they’re about use, endurance, and elegance in real life. Form follows function, but both must serve longevity.
Before anything can be cut, the right leather must be chosen. Not just for color or texture, but for weight, temper, and grain clarity.
I work primarily with half hides—about 20 square feet each—sourced from Italy, France, and the U.S. Some are chrome-tanned (like Alran Chevre or RMG Pomari) and prized for their saturation and pliability. Others, like Walpier’s vegetable-tanned offerings, darken and develop a patina over time.
What matters is that the leather performs: Will it hold structure over time? Will it hang graciously off the back of a café chair? Will it resist stretching in the places that count, while folding where it should?
These decisions aren’t aesthetic—they’re structural.
I usually work from the spine outward, avoiding flaws and stretchier belly areas unless the project permits. Grain direction can often be a factor. So can stretch.
There’s no “undo” button. You don’t just cut leather—you commit to it.
The build is sequential. Leather is skived—thinned—at the edges to reduce bulk. I use what’s called a bell skiver to thin out the edges of leather panels so that they bend more easily when stitched together. This is only when appropriate, and never without intention.
Panels are glued temporarily and then hand-stitched, often using a saddle stitch technique. Where necessary, reinforcements like interfacings or chapes (which are the patches that hold a shoulder strap or handle to a bag) are added at stress points.
It’s not a linear process. It’s layered. And everything has to stay aligned.
This is the part most people never see—the final 10%, where patience does the heavy lifting.
Raw edges require particular attention. Depending on the design, I may sand them smooth and finish with edge paint, sealing the layers with wax or an acrylic gloss or matte finish. Each coat of paint must dry before the next is applied—a slow, deliberate process. In other cases, the edge is sanded, dyed, and burnished by hand using a slicker and some Tokenole until it develops a smooth, almost polished edge. Occasionally, a strip of leather binding is wrapped and stitched around the edge for durability and a refined, tailored look.
Hardware is often installed earlier in the process, particularly when it’s meant to be hidden beneath the lining or anchored between layers. But the final phase is when it’s tested—checked for alignment, symmetry, and function.
Then comes polishing—buffing away any chalk marks, lightly conditioning the leather, and bringing the piece back to its true tone. And finally, the most dispassionate step: inspection. Not for flaws, but for cohesion. Does the piece feel resolved?
What keeps me here, day after day, isn’t glamour. It’s rhythm. It’s a way of being in the world that rewards precision over pretense.
There’s a lighting designer I admire who once described how a shaft of morning sun lit up the edge of stacked mirror glass in his father’s workshop. That moment inspired a lamp he would go on to refine for five years. He still makes it today.
That story matters. Because it’s never just about what we make. It’s about how we live with the making.
Perfection doesn’t interest me. What interests me is integrity. Clean lines should earn their place. A bag that lasts should do so because someone intended it to.
I’ve inherited a tradition that crosses disciplines. The violinmaker who taps spruce for resonance. The ceramicist who smashes a misfired glaze. The tailor who redoes a seam no one will ever see. The artisan doesn’t settle. The work either speaks clearly, or it doesn’t.
Success isn’t scale. It isn’t applause. It’s knowing that what leaves my studio will still represent me—years from now—without explanation.
When a woman chooses a handmade leather bag—particularly one like mine—she’s not just selecting an accessory. She’s stepping outside the churn of disposable luxury and into something slower, more grounded, and quietly confident.
Every bag I create carries more than contents. It carries time. Decisions. Standards. A way of being in the world that values quality over novelty, craft over automation, and presence over posturing.
If that resonates with you, then you’re in the right place.
Browse the Atelier collection of handmade leather bags. See what speaks. Or reach out if you’re unsure—this space was built for dialogue, not display.
My work is not for everyone. It was never meant to be.
But if you’ve read this far, it may have been made for you.
Nerina Leatherworks is a private members association operating in the private domain
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