Real leather tells a story

I love my job. But I worry about what we’re doing to leather.

We took one of the most soulful, natural, and character-rich materials the world has to offer—and taught ourselves to fear it.

Wrinkles became defects.

Natural variation became something to hide.

And “authenticity” was replaced by artificial perfection.

In our quest for standardization, we’ve forgotten what made leather so extraordinary in the first place.

We now train designers to prioritize uniformity over emotion.

Craftspeople are no longer celebrated for their hands, but hidden behind machines.

And customers have learned to expect plastic-smooth surfaces instead of rich, living textures.

Real leather tells a story.

But we’ve taught the world to silence it.

We replaced cutters with plotter operators.

Leather artisans became assemblers.

Marketing became merchandise.

And the product? Just another SKU in the system.

As someone who has worked in this industry for years, I ask myself:

Are we educating the next generation to celebrate materials—or to sanitize them?

Are we empowering people to work with nature—or against it?

Maybe it’s not too late.

Maybe, if we stop chasing flawless and start teaching why the “flaws” matter,

we’ll begin to reawaken the appreciation for something real.

Leather isn’t perfect.

That’s why it’s beautiful.

And that’s why it’s worth preserving.