The Levanto Backpack

My grandfather became a shoemaker at the age of 9, growing up in Sicily. After emigrating to the United States in his early twenties, he worked leather until his mid-eighties — and when we visited him in his shop, I would marvel at his hands: stained, calloused, strong, and impossibly skilled.

That craft was woven into ordinary life in ways I didn't fully appreciate until I was older. My grandmother used his shoemaker's knife — short, sharp, with a thick wooden handle — to cut vegetables for Sunday dinner. I assumed this was simply what Italian-American kitchens looked like. It was years before I learned otherwise.

And on summer weekends when my grandparents visited, my grandfather always arrived with a coffee can full of leather dust and shavings for our garden. Sprinkled into the soil, it gave us the richest ground — and the largest zucchini, tomatoes, and green beans — in the neighborhood.

Leather, in other words, wasn't a product category to our family. It was life.

Years later, touring Florence with my parents and brother, we found ourselves drawn into the San Lorenzo Leather Market near the Duomo — crowded, extraordinary, stall after stall of bags, belts, wallets, and goods made with a craft that felt genuinely continuous with everything my grandfather had spent his life doing.

It's from this same market that Bellavita sources its leather travel bags, briefcases, and wallets. We offer only a curated selection — chosen for quality, craftsmanship, and the kind of lasting character that improves with age.

My grandfather would have recognized the hands that made them.