What goes into a wallet

People sometimes ask why a handmade leather wallet costs what it does. I never mind the question. The honest answer is: come and watch me make one.

Since you can’t, here’s the next best thing.

01 — The conversation

Before I touch the leather, there’s usually a conversation. What colour? How many card slots? Cash pocket or no? Do you carry coins? Folded notes or flat? Each answer changes the pattern. For a custom order, this back-and-forth can take a day or two on its own — and if a design needs reworking, longer still. It’s not a step most people see, but it’s where the piece actually begins.

02 — Cutting

Buttero is a firm, smooth leather — it cuts cleanly, but it needs a sharp blade and a steady hand. I cut each panel individually against a steel rule: the outer shell, the card pockets, the divider. Every edge matters because every edge will eventually be seen or felt. A crooked cut at this stage follows the piece forever.

 

03 — Flesh side finishing

Leather has two sides — the grain side you see, and the flesh side underneath. On most mass-produced goods, the flesh side is left raw and rough. I don’t.

Once each panel is cut, I burnish and polish the flesh side — working a slicker over the surface with tokonole, a Japanese leather finish, until it’s smooth and has a soft sheen. It’s a step the person carrying the wallet will rarely see. But they’ll feel it every time they reach inside. And it tells you something about how the whole piece was made.

 

04 — Skiving

Where pieces overlap — at the card slot edges, the pocket tops — the leather needs to be thinned down, or the wallet becomes too bulky to carry. This is called skiving. I shave the leather at the edges with a skiving knife, reducing the thickness gradually so the layers sit flush when assembled. It’s slow, precise work. Too much and you weaken the leather. Too little and it shows.

 

 

06 — Marking and stitching

I mark the stitch line with a wing divider, then punch the holes with a pricking iron and mallet — one strike at a time, keeping the spacing even. Then I saddle stitch by hand: two needles, one thread, each stitch locked individually. It’s slower than machine stitching, but if a single stitch breaks, the rest hold. A machine-stitched seam unravels. A hand-stitched one doesn’t.

 

07 — Edge finishing

Raw leather edges are sharp and unfinished. I bevel each edge with an edge tool, then work through several rounds of sanding and burnishing — dampening the edge, rubbing it smooth with a wood slicker, letting it dry, repeating. A well-finished edge feels smooth to the touch and holds its shape over years of carry. It’s one of those details most people never notice — until they handle a wallet where it hasn’t been done.

 

08 — Assembly and final check

The panels come together, stitched and pressed into shape. I fold the wallet, check the alignment, test the card slots, feel the weight. Then I go over every edge, every stitch, every corner one more time before it leaves the bench. If something is off — even slightly — this is the last chance to catch it.

 

Start to finish, a bifold wallet takes me at least half a day. More if it’s a custom design I’m working out from scratch. That’s before packaging, before the note I write, before I drop it at the post office.

I’m not telling you this to justify the price. I’m telling you because I think it’s worth knowing what you’re holding when it arrives.