O.G. Bag: I Didn't Invent It. I Made It Mine. | Lulé Lulé Bags

I had it designed in my head long before I had it in my hands: scattered pieces — photos, Pinterest boards, bags I'd spot on the street that came close to what I wanted, but never quite were it.

I didn't invent anything out of nothing. I don't think anything gets invented that way; everything already exists, in some form, somewhere. What I did was something simpler, and more honest: I took what truly moved me, a shape with no structure but plenty of character. I adjusted it to what I actually needed to solve: a single piece of leather, with no seams to interrupt it, no pockets I'd never use. Something that would last for years, not one season. The leather I chose had a softness and looseness that captivated me, the kind that records my story, marks and all, with a life of its own.

This was the first piece I ever made, one of the first four that came out of the workshop. I named it O.G., for Original Gangster (I know how that reads, written out like that), because it was, literally, the origin: everything else was born from it. I brought it to the design fair at MAMM, Medellín's Museum of Modern Art, not knowing what to expect, and all four sold before noon. That's when I understood it wasn't only my idea.

Discreet in branding, with no need to shout who made it, but with enough character that someone looks twice and asks where it's from. I never went looking for that directly. It's what happened when I finally started solving my own problem. Today I don't need to explain it: it speaks for me before I say a word. It's still the piece I reach for when I want to carry just one thing I truly trust — to a trip, to a meeting, through a full day. It's not the first of its kind in the world. It is, though, the first one made exactly for me. And it turns out plenty of other women were looking for it too.

Saber artesano. Lujo consentido. — Artisan know-how. Indulged luxury.

Manuela Restrepo, creator of Lulé Lulé Bags.