How we started a new cult (which is called Dune Paris)

After years in luxury, we’d seen too many handbags sitting on marble counters, priced like yachts, collecting dust under soft lighting. We used to call it “aspirational.” Now we call it nonsense.

We were fatigued. Big price fatigue. Empty-brand fatigue. We had built castles out of calfskin and marketing, and somehow, forgot the hands that made them. Grosse fatigue as Camille Henrot would say.

So we left the glass towers and went back to the source. We sat with French artisans who spoke little but have gold in their hands. They taught us that elegance is about grace, patience, and leather that smells like devotion.

We learned the craft the hard way: thousands of hours, thousands of cuts, a few burns, and a lot of humility. You can’t fake savoir-faire — it stains you, permanently. That's how we partnered with the best in Graulhet. 

After all my grandfather was a shoe designer who came to France with little more than a wooden pattern block and a stubborn belief that beauty should be felt, not flaunted. He used to say that leather had a memory. His shoes weren’t perfect; they were alive.

Jacques, Sandra, Véronique. Our heroes. We love you, this brand is for you. 

Now, we offer it to you — not as another luxury, but as an experience, hand by hand, crafted with gold, grace, and a touch of beautiful delusion. Join our cult.