Crocodile Purses By Manny

Meet Manny
Before I ever touched fine leather, I knew what it felt like to own nothing at all. Three cities, a handful of shelters, one borrowed car for 7 of us all before I turned nine.
My dad swept warehouse floors back then, saving the scraps nobody wanted. He’d press them into my hands and whisper a promise: “One day, the world will know our name.”
Six years of sacrifice and one loan nobody believed in later, he opened a stall the size of a closet and the first bag he ever made, he named after me. He died just 2 weeks later.
Every bag I create still carries that promise: full-grain crocodile, cut and finished by hand, built to survive anything because survival is the one thing my family always knew how to do.