When people see a finished piece, they see the result.
The shape. The leather. The hardware.
The final version presented to you.
What they don’t see are the decisions behind it.
Building something from scratch is not one big creative breakthrough.
It’s more like a long sequence of small, slightly obsessive decisions.
What to keep. What to remove. What is good enough. What absolutely isn’t.
Before NANNA became a bag, it was a series of samples that were “almost right.”
And I’ve learned something about myself during this process:
I am terrible at accepting “almost.” If something feels even slightly off, I can’t unsee it.
Which is both a strength… and occasionally exhausting.
There is a strange discipline in saying no to something that most people would probably approve. Almost right is comfortable.
But comfortable is not the standard I want to build on.
What you approve becomes your level.
What you overlook becomes part of your identity. And that is slightly terrifying when you’re building a brand from nothing.
This is the part no one sees.
The extra weeks spent adjusting proportions.
The conversations about stitching thickness.
The back and forth about the hardware finish.
The sample that looks good in photos but feels wrong in the hand.
There have been moments where it would have been much easier to just say yes and move on. But I know that the early decisions echo.
When you don’t have history, heritage, or decades of reputation behind you, you only have your standards. And your ability to hold them.
Being a founder, at least in this stage, is less about glamorous ideas and more about quiet responsibility.
Responsibility to the people who will eventually carry the piece.
Responsibility to the artisans involved.
Responsibility to the materials.
And yes, responsibility to my own slightly unreasonable expectations.
What defines a brand is not only what you launch.
It’s what you refuse to launch.
Most of the real work happens long before anything becomes visible.
Anna