Never in a hurry.
Arrive later.

Never in a hurry.
Arrive later.

Travel leather with a hallmark instead of a logo, made to be repaired, photographed like a night you remember.
The house people name when asked what they would keep.
This book is the single source of truth for SAVIACO. It is a living document, not a PDF: it is versioned, and the version you are reading is stated on the cover. Read the strategy before the visual rules — almost every rule here follows from something decided in it. Anything not covered: ask before inventing. A gap is a question, never a licence.
Never in a hurry.
Luxury is what you keep, not what you show.
Make the travel goods for a life that is lived, not documented.
No logo outside. Everything inside.
A bag you will repair before you replace, and a house that repairs it.
Full-grain leather from two tanneries, both named on the tag
Solid brass, never plated
Saddle-stitched by hand at every stress point
Repaired for life, in the salon or by post
One collection a year
Arrive later.
Luxury leather has become a logo business. The client who pays most wants the opposite: nothing to read from across a room.
The same people who already buy Saint Laurent, Zegna and Bottega Veneta — read for their nerve and restraint, not copied for their look.
The only house at this level with no mark on the outside: the SV hallmark is stamped into the leather or pressed in gilt foil, and the campaign carries the glamour instead.
Patience
Craft
Wit
The settled — travels often, shows nothing, and buys the thing that will be repaired rather than replaced.
Quiet-luxury clients who travel often and show nothing.
One bag that handles thirty years of travel and looks better for it.
Branded house. Saviaco is the house; pieces are named for journeys and never sub-branded. The SV hallmark is the only mark that appears on product.
Vegetable-tanned hide, because it ages instead of wearing out. Solid brass, never plated. Saddle-stitched by hand at every stress point, so a broken thread stays a broken thread. Nothing on the outside but the hallmark, pressed with heat and no ink.
The house is Saviaco, set in capitals on product and in title case in text. Never SAVIACO in running copy, never Saviaco & Co. Pieces: the Weekender, the Night Case, the Crossing. Collections are years, never seasons.
2026 — the house, the first salon, the repair service written into the sale. 2029 — a Zurich salon and a trunk made to order. 2035 — a register of repaired pieces, so a bag carries its own history.
Made to be late with.
The hallmark — no logo outside, the SV stamped into the leather. For the client who shows nothing.
The night — glamour with wit, photographed rather than explained. For the heir apparent.
The repair — free for ten years, then at cost, forever. For the sceptic paying the price.
Each piece is described in the same order: what it carries · the hide and where it was tanned · the hardware · how it is stitched · what the repair covers · what it costs. The adjective comes last, if at all.
Pieces are named for the journeys they were cut for: the Weekender, the Night Case, the Crossing. Collections are years, never seasons.
The settled — lead with the repair, the tannery and the hardware. Proof before story. The heir apparent — lead with the campaign and the wit. Story before proof. Hotel partner — lead with the appointment service and what a guest sees at the door.
Arrive late. Stay longer. Keep the bag.
Arrive later.
Dry, well-mannered, briefly funny.
Dry, well-mannered, briefly funny. Says less than it knows.
From a concierge's note to a line said at the bar at two in the morning. Never a press release.
Arrive later.
No logo outside. Everything inside.
Repaired for life. In writing.
Made to be late with.
Thirty years is the point.
The hallmark is stamped, not printed.
A repair service that outlives the sale, a salon that is a room rather than a shop, and a night of campaign photography once a year instead of a seasonal shoot.
Luxury leather became a logo business, and the client who pays most started to want the opposite: nothing to read from across a room. Saviaco takes the restraint of that client and gives it back its sense of humour — a nap on the bow of a boat, a putt at thirty thousand feet, a tuxedo by a pool at night. The bag is in every frame. It never poses.
Do write like a concierge. Do let the photograph make the joke. Don't use the words iconic, timeless or curated.
The cap height of the wordmark on every side. No other element may enter the dashed area — not type, not an image edge, not a partner mark.
The dashed line is the margin from the layout system. The mark never crosses it, and never sits closer to another element than its own clear space.
The divider is one grid unit; the partner mark is scaled to match the optical height of ours, never the literal height. Neither mark may sit inside the other's clear space. Where a partner's own guidelines conflict with these, theirs govern their mark and ours governs ours.
Derived from the core colours — never hand-picked.
Every ratio below is computed, not claimed.
Surface carries the page, ink carries the words, and the accent is spent once. A layout where the accent competes with the surface is the most common way this system goes wrong.
| Style | Size | Line height | Tracking | Sample |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Display | 76 px | 0.95 | -0.03em | SAVIACO |
| H1 | 54 px | 1.0 | -0.02em | SAVIACO |
| H2 | 38 px | 1.1 | -0.02em | SAVIACO |
| H3 | 27 px | 1.2 | -0.01em | SAVIACO |
| Body | 17 px | 1.6 | 0 | SAVIACO |
| Caption | 13 px | 1.5 | 0.02em | SAVIACO |
Display carries the argument; the text face carries the evidence. Nothing in a layout should need a third size that is not on the scale — if it does, the hierarchy is the problem, not the type.
Hairline, engraved: a compass, a key, a weather mark, a luggage tag.
Icons are drawn on a 24 px artboard with a 2 px keyline, on the same 8 px base unit as every other measurement in the system. Square shapes fill the keyline; circular shapes overshoot it slightly so the two read at the same optical size.
Glamour with nerve. Hard sun or night flash, deep blacks, glossy skin and satin lapels. Grand hotels, yachts, private jets, a pool at night. People at rest and slightly too cool about it.














Vegetable-tanned full-grain leather, solid brass, walnut, loden felt, heavy linen.



A classic 12-column grid with generous margins. Photographs sit inside the margin like prints on a table; only the campaign cover bleeds.
| Token | Value |
|---|---|
| Corner radius | 0 |
| Base unit | 8px |
| Columns | 12 |
| Margin | 64px |
| Max width | 1440px |
Slow in, long hold, no bounce. Like a door closing on a good hinge.
Transform and opacity only. Every motion has a still equivalent: with reduced motion switched on, nothing on this page moves.
A bordeaux cloth dust bag inside a linen-covered box with the monogram blind-debossed.
Linen-wrapped rigid board in noir, the SV hallmark foiled in gilt on the lid and nowhere else. Rouge satin tissue inside, an ivory cotton dust bag. No name on the outside of anything.



One photograph per screen, warm film, the product named only in the caption.
One photograph per screen, the piece named in the caption, the repair form two clicks from any page.
One frame per post, shot at night or in hard sun. No product tags, no carousels, no faces smiling at the camera.
The Long Weekend: nine frames of people doing nothing, beautifully — a tuxedo by a pool at night, a nap on the bow, a hawk on a shoulder.
Uncoated ivory stock, letterpress in noir, the SV hallmark blind-debossed. Gilt foil only on the invitation.

A gilt-stamped leather luggage tag, a linen dust bag, a brass key ring. Never printed cotton.
The SV hallmark is stamped, foiled or engraved — never printed, never embroidered large. Gilt on noir or rouge, blind on leather. One mark per object.

Salons like a hotel library: walnut, loden felt, one bag on a table.
Solid brass, walnut and loden felt. The hallmark engraved in brass at the door; the name appears only inside, small, in Marcellus capitals on a walnut panel.

