Cypress green is the colour of a hedge in winter — dark, saturated, steadier than it sounds. On the mini Lindy it can pass for near-black indoors and then break into green the moment sunlight hits it, which makes it the most quietly surprising bag I have carried. My sense of the colour changes with the season: in June it is a leafy green, in December almost a black with opinions.
Capacity follows the measurements exactly: nineteen centimetres wide, twelve and a half tall, nine deep. Phone, card holder, key pouch and lipstick; a compact mirror fits too, provided the wallet stays slim. Softness is a feature at this size, and the dark colour means the bag never looks scuffed, only travelled.
The pebbled Clemence softens what could have been a severe colour. I decided on gold hardware the moment I compared the two: warm clasps against this green look like lamplight through leaves, and they turn the shade from forest into something closer to dark velvet.
In practice it is my winter bag — it sits easily against camel, charcoal and cream, the three colours of my cold-weather wardrobe. A dry cloth for the grain and a softer one for the hardware, once a week, is the entire maintenance ritual.
Honest: dark saturated greens collect dust like a felt surface and are merciless in car interiors. A weekly wipe with a dry cloth keeps it presentable; neglect it for a summer month and it will tell on you.



























































