Finding inspiration to embrace “slow leather”

Mike Redwood

Columnist

International Leather Maker

Walking in an English Country Park in the sunshine and then enjoying a conversation over coffee with a friend of 35 years can be very pleasant but rarely as inspiring as I found recently. As we pondered the direction of the leather industry, we worried over the current obsession for some semi-magical “next great thing” to propel the leather industry to new heights as the optimists hope or save it from extinction as the pessimists believe.

In fact, we concluded that the leather industry could do with a moment of calm. In recent decades, it has been driven by speed and volume; perhaps leather could sensibly embrace a “slow leather” movement. While a new marketing campaign or leather making process might play its part in moving the dial, it will take steady, long-term advancement and some mindset changes to make real progress.

Over the year-end holidays at my home, we opened a bottle of Suntory whisky that had sat hidden for over three decades at the back of our larder, largely because my preference had been for harsher Scottish malts. It was now time to taste this more fragrant, gentler whisky, one which had been expertly blended for connoisseurs when the Japanese economy was strong, and whisky was not chasing exorbitant profits through creating an “investment whisky” category nor big export earnings. It was a moment in time when whisky drinkers could quietly savour the quality.

The process is as important as the product

After 90 years of making whisky and adopting a more systematic approach to their traditional craftsmanship, many of the different casks had now aged to a level where they could produce golden blends. “Monozukuri” – the spirit of craftsmanship – that followed prioritises the relentless pursuit of perfection and meticulous attention to detail. It is not just about manufacturing but about a mindset where the process of making is as important as the final product.

A key element of Monozukuri is a deep respect for natural resources. This reverence for materials leads to unique choices like using Japanese Oak, which is notoriously difficult to work with—leaky and hard to shape—but is pursued obsessively because it eventually imparts a distinct, incense-like sandalwood aroma that defines the “Japanese style”.

My 1992 bottle already featured the iconic 24-faceted design (representing the 24 seasons of the Japanese lunar calendar) and was hand-labelled with Echizen Washi paper made from Mulberry bark, signalling to the world that this was an artisanal “object d’art” as much as a drink. The brand name Hibiki was added in beautiful calligraphy and means echo or resonance. This often translates into a lingering impression such as the good feeling that we hope to leave after meeting new friends. We opened the bottle and left it to breathe before everyone savoured it with delight.

An invitation to reimagine an industry

In many ways, this exquisite family moment happened because we had not seen time as an enemy but more as a partner. We were tapping into the universal themes of time, value and responsibility and be it Hibiki or leather, we are now seeing that a new, deeper philosophy than the rush to efficiency and cost cutting must take hold. Do not just think we are merely rejecting parts of our modern industry while lauding a few ancient vegetable leather tanners or talking only about the material. This is an invitation to reimagine an industry.

We must shift leather from being a commodity towards a crafted, storytelling material. Whether a small micro-tannery or a large side leather one, the tanner must highlight provenance, emphasise artisanal techniques and exploit the unique character of each hide. Traceability matters for all leather; individual hide examination is required early in the process to ensure each hide (or parts of it) follows the route best suited.

This can certainly be aided by mechanisation, just like machines are getting better at reading medical X-rays, but not completely. Human intervention and judgment are needed at many stages in the leather-making process, and however much we want to speed things up, those moments must remain sacrosanct.

The 21^st century will reward stewardship

For many of us taught leather technology in the 1960s and later the advancements in scientific knowledge and industrial processes of the Enlightenment and the Industrial Revolution, we were directed us into the belief that is was our right to treat materials as extractable inputs. A mental switch must be made. Some deep and honest thinking about hides and skins and their origins should aid that; not to kill scientific research but to respect our raw material more. What is more, the big challenges of demography and climate make it inevitable that the 21^st century will reward materials that embody stewardship.

The leather industry has long demanded reassessment of its own value, complaining that prices do not reward it properly and that wealth is improperly distributed in the value chain. This explains why hides are being discarded untreated. In the world of the 21^st century, we must look past the current raw wastage and explain that everyone must respect scarcity and not make items for disposal. Only this way is our future capacity protected. And to arrive there, value must be protected with fair pricing.

A lot of that value, like with my whisky, only emerges over time, so patience in manufacture and ownership is required. The Art of Ageing for the tanner is not about ever slower processes but about ensuring alignment with consumer requirements for durability and authenticity. The tanning must avoid careless hurry, and as far as possible prioritise craftsmanship and utilise processes that enhance quality and longevity. They must support those making articles with leather to correctly build the future into those items by highlighting the patina, maintenance and ease of repairs.

With the pressure of modern business, where leather sits in the highway between abattoir and retail with a hungry, and often greedy, brand on the line, it can be hard to accept that ageing is where value is created, not merely an inefficiency to be eliminated. Burning the hair off hides chemically was not the great saving promised, but a costly load on the wastewater. The wise tanner thinks of time as a co-producer.

This then supports a second fundamental shift from commodity to craft, with the unique nature of each hide or skin becoming like the “terroir” of whisky and redefining its perceived value. Tanneries should look to fully embed craft in the processes rather than view it as a nostalgic add-on tool, which it must not be. We do not seek a romantic return to the past; it is modern, industrial, disciplined — but restrained. The argument here is not anti-modernity, but anti-excess.

This is crucial: modern leather thinking supports grown-up capitalism, it does not retreat. In fact, unlike most competitive materials, leather is unusually well-suited in this space because leather already lives in quite wonderfully long cycles:

•   Animal lifetimes,
•   Land regeneration,
•   Tanning processes,
•   Product longevity,
•   Repair, patina, afterlife.

In our coffee meeting, we discussed that when tanners tried to produce some grades of leather on a fast-fashion logic, it has always been a category error. And my colleague quietly noted that she was surprised how rarely we discuss just how many operations are required for each piece of leather produced.

So, the argument that comes from my weekend discussions is that leather’s legitimacy problem is moral, not technical. The industry is not struggling because it cannot process hides efficiently. It’s struggling because:

•   Extraction narratives dominate,
•   Value is framed as throughput,
•   Stewardship is invisible.

This may sound harsh, but however AI works out, the demographic changes will continue to depress proper growth (not that measured by continuing to cut down complete forests without regeneration) and climate will make husbandry harder. Tanners should be thinking about longer horizons, higher levels of product care and fewer product releases. The future is becoming a battle for cultural legitimacy.

Harmony rather than optimisation

The narrative must chase harmony rather than optimisation. Harmony with the local community: the tannery as a good neighbour, paying its taxes and in harmony with its government and with nature. The leather industry has been increasingly scrutinised for its environmental and ethical impact. A stewardship model should focus on regenerative farming, circularity and transparent supply chains.

We should adopt a mindset that says we honour the hide on the table rather than purely utilise it, readiness for the market must replace speed, care for the material should surpass efficiency and waste is failure. Leather is facing the same reckoning as most human activities since hides are finite, land is finite and social licence is finite.

If, as tanners, we avoid chasing some unattainable quick fix and decide to think more about honouring time, tradition and the land, we should be able to answer the test:

•   Will future supply be healthier?
•   Will products last longer?
•   Will public trust strengthen?
•   Will the next generation want to inherit our industry?

If so, enjoy your whisky tonight, slowly, in moderation and good company.

mike@internationalleathermaker.com

You can find Dr Mike Redwood across social media at @michaelredwood.

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