Some bags are bought for a purpose; this one I bought for its posture. The Hac à Dos PM stands on its own — twenty-eight centimetres tall, eighteen across and just eight deep — with the flap closed like a folded envelope and the Togo calfskin’s pebble grain catching the light in a hundred tiny domes. In Canope, that green is the deep, mossy kind you find in old conservatories: dark enough for serious clothes, alive enough not to be black.
The leather is Togo, sourced from France, and you feel why people rate it: soft in the hand, forgiving over corners, and famously good at ageing — the grain softens, the colour patinas, and small marks blend back into the pebbling instead of sitting on top of it. Silver hardware keeps the metal cool against the warm green, and there is very little of it, which is the point.
Capacity-wise it is a deliberate bag: a small camera, a paperback, sunglasses in their case, phone and keys — the kit of a person who travels light on purpose. The eight centimetres of depth mean it stays flat against your back instead of ballooning behind you. I carry mine to coffee, to the office when I do not need the laptop, and on evenings when a shoulder bag would ruin the line of a coat.
Honest note: that slim depth is also the limitation. This backpack will not swallow a 13 inch laptop with a sleeve, a water bottle and a lunch; it is not that bag, and trying to force it makes everything hard to reach. Choose it as your compact-and-handsome daypack, and keep a bigger one for the heavy days.













































