Hobo

In my earliest memories I am playing with scraps of leather under the craft bench in the 70’s leather shop where my mom learned her trade. I recall the unique smell, a combination of natural hides and patchouli that filled the air and the artisans cutting, stitching and tooling bags by hand. I grew up under that craft bench and fell in love with leather by the time I was 12, for all its beautiful imperfections and the way it ages ever so gracefully … and I never looked back.

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