I own this bag with both hardware finishes, and they are not the same object. The leather is identical, since color 89 does not change, but silver pulls the black toward daylight: crisp with a white shirt, modern with grey tailoring, and frankly younger than the warm-gold version of the same bag.
What you get in the hand is pure Clemence behavior: a soft, pebbled taurillon that slumps gently, keeps a matte surface, and relaxes at the top edge over its first months. Sixteen centimeters of height, eighteen of width and five of depth make it a small bag by any measure, a wallet, phone, keys and one lip product, with everything else left at home. It weighs almost nothing, so it disappears on the shoulder by lunchtime.
The honest footnote involves the metal. Silver fittings at this scale are polished and bright, and after a year of use mine show three hairline scratches. Nobody will ever see them from a meter away, and I have decided not to mind, but you should know they arrive.
In use, the bag is a metronome: it swings at the hip when the strap is long, tucks under the arm when it is short, and the punched H faces out like a small mark of intent. Black on black with silver, there is nothing in my wardrobe it has ever failed to finish. I have recommended it to two friends, and both still carry theirs.







































