Robots Can't Make These Wallets: Ettinger Bets on Handcraft

UK leather goods manufacturing employs just 7,000 people today, down from 37,000 three decades ago — yet Ettinger, one of the last factories standing in Walsall, says online sales are up 30% on last year. British sales have climbed by a fifth, and the new customers are in their early 20s.

Robert Ettinger, chief executive of the firm his father founded in 1934, puts it bluntly: "You can't bring in robots." The vast majority of the manufacturing process has to be done by hand at the factory near Birmingham, where about 20 people — mostly women, plus a handful working from home — cut, glue, stitch and polish everything from wallets to cigar cases.

What does the handcraft actually involve?

Gary Billingham, who has worked at the factory since the 1980s, demonstrates how 28 pieces make up a single Ettinger wallet. A hydraulic press cuts them from leather; machines resembling pastry-cutters punch out shapes; workers glue trims and linings by brush. A machine called a skiver thins the seams so they can be turned inward before stitching. Each piece is checked, trimmed with a scalpel and sharp scissors, polished and wrapped in tissue paper.

"It is all down to attention to detail and everything we do is based around that," Billingham said.

A town that once had three pages of leather factories

Walsall has been a leather-working centre since the Middle Ages, built on saddle-making, with more than 100 firms operating by the end of the 19th century. When Billingham started, "there were three pages in the Yellow Pages" listing leather factories in the town. "They were everywhere. It has gone from that to about five factories. It is more like a cottage industry."

The industry thrived on military saddle wear during the First World War, then declined from the 1950s under foreign competition and man-made leather alternatives. By 1970, roughly 50 manufacturers remained, and Walsall still produced about half of Britain's fancy leather goods, according to the Wolverhampton Heritage and History Society.

Ettinger's own path mirrors that contraction. Founder Gerry Ettinger, who fled Nazi Germany via Paris and a stint in the film industry, bought his first factory in Clerkenwell, London, in the 1950s. When the area gentrified in the 1990s, the family bought out supplier James Homer in Walsall, a firm established in 1890, and retrained staff for international clients led by the Japanese.

The brand now holds royal warrants from King Charles and Queen Camilla. Its bestseller remains a wallet, alongside pill containers, cigar cases, picture frames and dog-owner goods, all personalisable with initials. It positions itself between high street and big luxury: a British handmade tote for just under £800, versus more than £2,000 at Louis Vuitton.

Why not move production abroad?

Ettinger says he never seriously considered it, despite most customers living outside the UK. "We might have made more profit, but then we would also have much more competition because when you've got 50 companies bringing in a purse from the far east, then it's all about price."

Instead, he argues the bet on British craft is winning over younger shoppers. "A lot of younger people are now thinking that they want something that will last, that won't go out of fashion in three months' time," he said. "I've just repaired my wallet which is 17 years old." He frames the price as accessible: "Our products are affordable luxury. A purse or wallet for £200 or £300, it's the price of some trainers and they're not made in the UK."

The bottleneck: people

Growth faces a hard constraint — labour. Ettinger cut about seven staff after Covid hit trade, and rehiring is difficult. Tracy, who has built cigar cases there for 15 years after 40 years in leather work, remembers when "you could walk out of one job and into another on the same day." Now Billingham says: "To take five to 10 people on would be great but the reality is they are not there." The workforce is aged 40 to 60, and even graduates of Walsall's Leather Skills Centre tend to choose car upholstery or saddles.

Ettinger points to mainland Europe's apprenticeship system — where he trained under his father's direction — as the model Britain lacks. "They spend a few years really learning a trade... you then go on to do more and become a master, a Meister. We don't have that here."

For practitioners, the lesson is stark: demand for British handcraft is rising, but without a training pipeline, scaling it may be impossible.