There was a short-term Hermès exhibit at the Chiostro del Bramante in Rome to celebrate the opening of the new men's store on Via Campo Marzio.
It ended on Sunday. My friend C. and I made it just in time on Saturday.
I don't remember how old I was when I first became aware of Hermès. I walked into their store in St. Martin one day during a summer trip to see my grandparents.
The store was incredible. The salespeople were so chic and very nice.
My friends know I'm somewhat obsessed with Hermès bags. One friend even sends me snapshots of Birkins she sees in Rome.
I don't own a single one. Years ago I saw a used Kelly bag at a yard sale in Georgetown. I could kick myself for not buying it. Then again I was a junior congressional aide on The Hill making less than 18k a year. I doubt I could afford the bag.
I still can't afford the bags. But I can appreciate them from afar.
The exhibit was fantastic. Well curated and the write-ups were beautiful. I know they were writing about leather and bags, but it was poetry.
We were able to touch the leather samples. Like butter.
There was one display comprised of only Kellys and Birkins. My friend asked me if I was okay because it looked like I was hyperventilating.
They had bags on display that were over hundred and fifty years old. The level of craftsmanship is unreal.
The company was founded in 1837 as a harness workshop and is still family owned. However, the big multinational LVHM wants like to buy them out.
Hermès bags are made by hand, unlike some other luxury brands.
A craftsperson works on one bag at a time.
C. used to ride horses. We spent a lot of time in this room.
When I see this picture I crack up. This was in a little room to the right of the big Kelly/Birkin display. As we walked toward the room, we heard this smacking noise. It was a couple completely making out behind the display. The crazy thing is, they didn't stop when we walked past them. We were in that room for a while and when we walked out, they were still making out. Really, folks, in a museum?!
Hermès store Rue du General De Gaulle. Marigot, St. Martin, French West Indies. Where the love affair began.