A 20cm bag sounds impractical until you carry one to dinner and remember what you actually need after eight in the evening: phone, cardholder, key, lipstick, nothing else. The Faubourg 20 measures 20 by 16 by 11 cm, meaning it takes those four things with room for a folded note, and the short handle slips over the wrist while you hold a glass.
What sells this piece is the construction. The body is Madame calf, sleek and exact, and the front panel is built as a tiny facade with an awning of glazed alligator scales from Mississippi. In the Gris Meyer, Gris Ciment and Gris Misty layers, that front reads as an architectural drawing in three pencils of grey, and the gold hardware warms the whole picture so it never turns cold or clinical.
The feel in the hand is the real draw here, so to speak: smooth calf against your palm, scales that click faintly under a nail, a flap that opens with a satisfying turn. Strapped over a black dress or a cream suit, the bag does more work than jewellery and says less.
Honest notes, because at this scale they matter. The alligator panel is glazed, so it dislikes abrasion, long sun exposure and rain; it is a dial-a-car, restaurant and gallery bag, not a holiday bag. And once your phone is inside, a sunglasses case will not fit. Accept that and it is the most special small thing I have ever carried.



















































