I spent months looking for a cat bag before I made one. What I found came in two versions, and I didn't want either.
The two options that existed
The first was the cartoon: a printed face with big eyes, sometimes a set of whiskers, occasionally a bow. Fun, but unmistakably childish — not a bag you'd carry into a meeting.
The second was realism: photographic cat prints, or a sculpted figure with fur texture. Technically impressive. Also slightly unsettling to carry against your body all day.
Both approaches make the same mistake: they start with the face.
A face forces a style
The moment you draw eyes and a mouth, you've picked a tone. Cute, goofy, spooky — the face decides for you. That's why cat merchandise skews young, and why so much of it is hard to take seriously.
Cats, though, are recognizable long before you see a face.
A cat is three lines
An arched back. Pointed ears. A tail with a curl in it. Draw only those, and everyone reads "cat" instantly — while the object stays a clean silhouette. It's how cats appear in shadows, in doorways, in the corner of your eye when they're about to knock something off a table.
Our bags are built on that idea. The ears are part of the panel, the tail becomes the zip pull, and the body keeps a curved, structured profile rather than a face.
We designed a bag first, a cat second
It was important that the object works as luggage before it works as a joke. Wide enough strap to spread weight. A zipped main compartment that opens fully. Room for a phone, a wallet, keys, a bottle and a paperback. Solid brass hardware that won't chip.
The cat is in the shape, not stuck on top of it.
What we deliberately left out
No googly eyes. No printed text. No "cat mom" slogan. No fur texture. If someone has to look twice to notice it's a cat, that's the compliment we're going for.
