I still remember the very first bag I created under Viva’s. At the time, it felt almost too new, too pristine, like it didn’t quite belong to me yet. I carried it everywhere, hesitating with every scratch and mark, wishing I could keep it untouched.

But time is gentle and relentless. The leather softened, the edges darkened, the surface gathered marks of the life I was living. Slowly, the bag became mine. Not because I made it, but because I lived with it. It now carries pieces of my story, pressed into every fold and scratch.

That bag is still with me today. When I look at it, I don’t see flaws. I see memory. The scratches remind me of travels, the softened handles of all the days it rested in my hands. It is imperfect, yes, but in its imperfection lies its truth. And I think that is the most beautiful thing of all.

Leather teaches me something about us, too. About how we, especially as women, are often told to preserve, to hide, to chase flawless skin and eternal youth. But just like leather, our skin is not meant to stay untouched. It is meant to tell a story. Every line, every change, is a trace of love, of laughter, of resilience.

This November, I will celebrate another birthday. Another year that has shaped me in ways both visible and invisible. And instead of wishing to remain unchanged, I want to welcome the marks of time. On my bags, on my skin, in my life. Because they remind me that I have lived fully, that I am still unfolding.

So, as autumn settles in, I invite you to see beauty in what is real: in the softness that comes with use, in the faces we grow into, in the stories we carry. Nothing is more moving, more deeply human, than that.

With warmth,
Živa

P.S.: The bag featured on the photos is Mara.