Build a wardrobe of greys, creams, navy, white and camel, then add exactly one green. Vert Vertigo is the shade that justifies the whole exercise: a vivid, saturated emerald that behaves like a neutral in practice — it flatters denim, sharpens grey, and sings against camel in a way that stops conversation mid-sentence.
The format stays classic: 24 cm wide, 15 tall, five deep, with the shallow gusset that keeps the bag flat against the body. A phone, a cardholder, keys, a lip tint and a packet of tissues fit in one relaxed layer, and the flap closes as if it had been tailored to them. This is a bag that travels at walking pace.
Silver hardware keeps the green in the cool half of the spectrum, comparable to malachite — no warmth bleeding the saturation down into olive. Epsom’s pressed grain holds saturated colour exceptionally well, staying consistent across flap, gusset and base without the mottling that softer leathers can show under bright dye.
The honest limitation is simply visibility: a green this present cannot be disguised, and it will be the first thing colleagues comment on, the first thing noticed in a photograph, the one item in your bag rotation that people name from memory. If you want a bag with an obituary in its future, this is that bag. If you want anonymity, it is emphatically not. It is also the bag I reach for whenever a month has gone grey and I need it not to be.























































