There is a seventeen-and-a-half-centimetre fish hanging from my book bag, and I will defend it to anyone. The Poisson is the odd one out in a family of horses: longer than my hand, built in three leathers, and equipped with a 21.5-centimetre lanyard that lets it swim through the air as you walk. It is, by some distance, my most emotionally complicated bag charm.
The mix matters. Epsom calfskin, with its heat-embossed, cross-hatched grain, gives the body structure and wipes clean with a thumb; Swift supplies the smooth fins; Milo lambskin brings the soft edge. Céleste, Vert Yucca, Mauve Pâle and white all share the surface like tiles in a mosaic.
It lives on the strap of a structured tote, where the stiffness of the Epsom keeps the fish from curling up. On softer bags it drapes differently — almost liquid — which is its own pleasure. People who notice it tend to laugh first and ask questions second, and children notice it first of all. It has also spent one afternoon as a bookmark, which it did not seem to mind.
The honest catch: on a small bag, a 17.5 cm fish is a lot of charm, and its length means it swings wide in crowds. Keep it for totes, backpacks and travel bags, and accept that a long accessory demands a little spatial respect. I would not swap it for a horse. Handmade in France.



























