Sentimental Leatherwork and Mother's Day: Why I Chose to Tell a True Story
Every year, Mother's Day asks the same question: speak up or stay silent? Here's what I chose to do — and why.
Sentimental leatherwork and motherhood are intimately linked. The baby wrap turned into a bag. The fabric of a grandmother we never knew, turned into a wallet. The examples are endless.
Most brands choose to ignore Mother's Day, though — and I understand why: not everyone has a living mother, or a simple relationship with theirs (to name just a few situations). It's easy to get it wrong and genuinely hurt people.
I could have done the same, to be safe. But no — I wasn't going to pretend this day doesn't exist.
My dilemma
My work is literally about transforming memory-laden textiles into objects you can wear and use every day. Your grandfather's jacket. Your baby wrap. The little one's last pyjamas. The dress you wore on the most important day of your life.
Ignoring Mother's Day when your entire craft revolves around transmission and memory... is complicated. But just doing the classic "buy your mum a beautiful bag" post wasn't really where I wanted to put my focus either — because it misses the heart of what I actually do.
So what does that mean in practice?
I put together a "floral" selection from the Nature Collection, because it lasts longer than a bouquet and I have such beautiful pieces in stock.
But I didn't hammer away at "THE perfect gift" or manufacture any artificial urgency.
Because what I offer isn't "buy something at -70% before Sunday."
It's: if you have a textile waiting in a cupboard somewhere, we can turn it into something that will stay with you for a long time.
It's a very different kind of offer — one that takes time, reflection, and a conversation. One that speaks to someone ready to do something with a memory, not someone looking for a last-minute gift.
So for this Mother's Day, I made a choice: to tell a true story.
My mother's wedding dress
Years ago, my mother got married in a dress that looked absolutely beautiful on her. A few decades (and alterations) later, I wore it in turn.
And then it stayed in a wardrobe, much to my regret: too emotionally charged to let go, but too beautiful to be shut away in there.
So I paired it with one of my late father's jumpers, to pay tribute to their relationship — and turned this dress into something usable every day:
- A bag, available to buy — ready to carry new memories;
- Three small coin purses: one for me, one for her, one for sale;
- And a cushion for my mum, so she can cuddle up with it on the sofa in the evenings.
That's sentimental leatherwork.
Not just a seasonal gift: objects that carry someone, for a long time.
And that's what sets an artisan brand apart from a catalogue.
What about you?
If you have a textile (or leather) waiting somewhere — in a box, a wardrobe, the back of a drawer — I'm here.
Not specifically for Mother's Day. For whatever you want to do with it, whenever you're ready.
