The story of the B JK1963 bag

The first time I saw this hide, in the shed of one of the last French tanneries, I had a strange reaction:
"But I know that pink."

I picked it up, among others, then put it aside. The Emily in Paris whirlwind passed by here.
And then I took it out again.

This time, I understood.

That particular shade of pink belongs to the collective memory. The shade of a wool suit that has become impossible to forget. Even for those — both men and women — who weren't born in the early sixties.

On the morning of November 22, 1963, on the tarmac of Dallas airport, the official White House photographer, Cecil W. Stoughton, captured a moment. A look. A color.

It is said that the collective unconscious does not exist. I doubt it.

And if, as Charles Aznavour might have sung, nostalgia was the happiness of being a little sad, then I embrace this emotion.

From this unique leather, we will be able to make about ten B in Paris bags.
A very limited series, available for pre-order, with a black or gold chain.

For those who, like me, are sometimes nostalgic for eras they never actually experienced.