The World of Leather
Almost everyone owns at least one leather item. Many women may have several leather bags in their closets. Yet few know what type of leather they are made from, how they are crafted, or the process by which raw hides become finished products. Before I became a designer, I didn’t know much either. To me, leather was just leather.
Leather consists of three main layers: the epidermis, the dermis, and the subcutaneous tissue. The part most often used for products is the dermis. Within this layer, leather is classified as full-grain, top-grain, or split, each processed differently before being ready for use. Full-grain and top-grain, taken from the uppermost section of the dermis, are considered premium leathers—most often chosen by luxury brands. If you’re planning to purchase a high-end bag, I strongly recommend checking whether it’s made from full-grain or top-grain leather. These days, many products on the market are split leather disguised with coating or lamination to appear more refined than they truly are.
The qualities of leather vary depending on the animal, its environment, and even its diet. Cowhide is large and durable, used in handbags, luxury cars, and furniture. Calfskin is soft and delicate, favored in luxury handbags. Lambskin is lightweight and supple but easily damaged, while goatskin has a firm character, often used for smaller items. Leather, then, is more than a material—it is a living language, shaped by touch, marked by time, and infused with the stories of those who use it.
Leather Through a Designer’s Eyes
When I first began working with leather, I was captivated by Nappa. Its silky touch, subtle colors, and luxurious silhouettes completely enchanted me. I even vowed to design only with Nappa leather from then on.
But experience taught me otherwise. I learned that the same bag design could feel entirely different depending on the leather used. Calfskin conveyed soft sophistication, while Saffiano gave structure and strength. It was like how the same person can look completely different depending on what they wear.
Of course, there were challenges. Some leathers were so thin they tore easily during stitching. Others resisted dye, making it nearly impossible to achieve the color I envisioned. That’s when I began treating leather not simply as a material but as something with its own personality. Difficult leathers required patience and understanding before they revealed their beauty. In the end, the key was how well I could respect and adapt to the character of each leather.
For me, Prada is the brand that best demonstrates this mastery. Look closely at Prada’s handbag collections, and you’ll see a philosophy at work. Signature pieces each season often feature full-grain or top-grain leather, sometimes deerskin—materials that instantly communicate refinement.
Yet luxury hides also have a paradox. Their softness and delicacy make them exquisite, but they are notoriously difficult to work with and less practical for everyday use. Prada’s strength lies in transforming these fragile leathers through specialized treatments, creating materials that remain supple and elegant even after years of use. Turning a temperamental leather into one that is versatile and enduring takes immense expertise.
Consider Prada’s Saffiano leather, with its distinctive cross-hatch embossing. Mario Prada patented the production method in 1913, making it an exclusive material for the house. For a time, only Prada could use it. When the patent lapsed, other brands rushed to adopt it or develop similar “textured leathers.”
To some, this may seem trivial. But I see it as a mark of Prada’s brilliance. Leather is not like fabric that can be woven uniformly. It comes from once-living beings, each piece unique and imperfect. Elevating such a material into a signature identity that defines a brand is no small achievement.
The Resemblance to Life
The more I worked with leather, the more I realized how much it resembles life itself.
Leather changes with use. It wrinkles, scratches, and shifts in color. At first, these marks may seem like flaws, but over time they become character. They turn into stories only that piece of leather can hold. Each crease or scratch reflects the touch of its owner, the passage of days, the life it has shared.
Isn’t life the same?
We all carry marks, some expected others unforeseen.
But what if those marks are not merely scars, but the record of our time and experiences? Perhaps they give us depth and resilience, shaping a beauty that cannot be replicated.
That is why I don’t mind a scratch on a beloved bag. Instead, I see it as a reminder of moments we’ve shared, a fragment of my life now etched into its surface. That, to me, is the true value of empathy in design.
The Value That Lasts
Working with leather often makes me ask myself:
“Will this product still mean something to someone years from now?”
Trends come and go quickly. But well-crafted leather, paired with thoughtful design, endures. In fact, it often becomes more beautiful with age.
For me, leather is never just a material. It is a record—like life itself—bearing marks, holding memories, and telling stories of time shared.
Lightly, yet deeply. And always, with something lasting.
