Some things you don't just buy. You meet them.
A few years ago, I went to Chiapas looking for a bag — a real Mexican one, made the old way. In a small market stall, I found a fish. A big leather fish, hand-tooled, the only one of its kind. I didn't think twice. I took it home.
And then something funny started to happen. Everywhere I went — every country, every street — people stopped me. They touched it, they smiled, they asked about it. Men, women and children alike. No one could walk past that fish without saying something. I kept thinking: people need to have this.
Years later, I went back to find the stall. The fish was gone. The man who once sold it told me it wasn't made anymore — no, no, impossible. But I couldn't let it go. I searched, I insisted, I tracked down the molds and found the hands that could bring it back to life. And that's how Latido began. (Latido means "heartbeat.")
I still carry my own fish. After all these years, the leather has turned soft and glowing — and honestly, from so much love and so many admiring hands, it feels like it came alive.
That's the heart of Latido: little leather creatures, each one hand-made in Mexico, each with its own character. A fish, a turtle, a butterfly. They aren't really coin purses. They're companions — the kind of thing you grow attached to, that rides in your bag and somehow becomes yours.
Our dream is simple: to carry these fish across every ocean of the world, to give steady work to the Mexican artisans who make them, and one day — when the little fish have swum far enough — to introduce them by name, so they share in everything their hands have created.
Come meet yours.