Cricket green is the colour of late August lawns, and on a Rodeo it behaves like camouflage in a garden and a surprise indoors. In flat light it reads almost olive; in sun the dye turns grassy and clear. It is the colour of a lawn at dusk, and I mean that precisely.
The leather is Milo lambskin through and through, hand-stitched and stuffed to hold its shape without being rigid. No larger than the palm of my hand, and flat, it disappears into the side pocket of a tote when I want a quieter bag and reappears when I do not. The muzzle is stitched on the shut side, so the horse looks calm rather than sleepy.
It spent the summer on my olive-khaki sling bag — a near-match that made strangers look twice, trying to work out what matched what. Against burgundy, cream or brown it is the grounding note; against red it is a gamble I would skip. On the sling bag it looked deliberate; on a raincoat it looked like a lucky charm.
As with all strong greens, dye lots wander: one batch is a half-shade yellower than the next, so if you ever buy two of these, buy them together. And lambskin this soft will show a scuff from a rough doorframe long before it shows one from ordinary use. Give it to a person who gardens and you will be thanked properly. Made and stitched in France.











