Bambou behaves differently depending on the light, lime in the morning and deeper fern at night, and in Swift calfskin it looks almost liquid. That is the combination I would pick for a long summer lunch, where a bag with a strap would feel like homework.
The clutch is 29 cm across, so it tucks under the arm with a little margin, and flat enough that it disappears under a coat. My usual load is a phone, a cardholder, keys, one lipstick, and a folded menu-worth of paper that I never throw away. There is no hardware at all; the flap’s H opens by finger pressure and everything else is leather.
Swift is the soft, fine-grained side of calfskin, dyed through so the color stays rich, with a hand closer to fabric than to board. It drapes slightly, which makes the clutch feel less formal, and it also means the surface will mark if you scrape it. Swift is not the leather for keys you drop loose into a bag.
Green in a soft leather is a summer-only proposition for me, but what a summer it is.
Bambou does one more thing worth mentioning: against grey, navy or washed linen it reads as a deliberate accent rather than a novelty, which is why I stopped apologising for the color. Soft leather and a strong green together amount to a summer wardrobe in one object, and it sits as easily with a tan sandal as with white trainers.











































