Olive is the colour that convinced me earth tones deserve decent hardware. Twenty-eight centimetres of length in Clemence, with its large natural grain, and the green reads deep and muted in daylight, almost brown at dusk. It is the most autumnal bag I own without ever being a novelty about it. It is the bag I reach for when the trees start turning, without fail.
The shape carries a small notebook, a phone, a wallet and keys with the ease of a bag designed to be used, and the strap adjusts to crossbody over a jacket. The front strap keeps the flap down, and the silver-tone rings add just enough gleam to stop the olive from looking ascetic. The leather feels heavier than it looks, in a reassuring way.
Clemence in this shade feels especially suited to wool, denim and corduroy, and it wears its softness openly: the leather creases where it bends, then relaxes back. After a season or two, the bag looks like a favourite jacket rather than a piece kept for good days. Corduroy and brass buttons are its natural company.
The honest note, and this is true of most olive leathers: the colour flips with the light, green in the sun, brown in a hallway, and photographs will never fully capture it. Buy it for the family of greens it becomes, not for one fixed shade you saw on a screen. That shifting nature is the charm; treat it as two bags in one colour.













































