A Father. A Daughter.
One standard.
My dad learned the craft in a small Tuscan workshop. By the time he was 30, he could cut a hide blindfolded. In 1996, he opened Maronelli—a promise to make bags the way the old masters did. I grew up playing with leather scraps on the workshop floor. Now I work beside him. He cuts. I stitch. Nothing ships until we're both satisfied.