Olwen.

Before giving a price or making a cut, Olwen walks the hedge end to end on foot, watching where every branch will split; she never judges it from the car, and she won't rush a stretch she hasn't walked before. It's just how she is: she needs to see where she's going and always have the way back worked out. That's why Cardiff closed up her chest — nowhere there let her see any distance — and why she drives the dirt track even when it takes twice as long. A backpack inherits that way of moving: you sling the day's load on and keep going.

It works well as a school backpack, a travel bag, or for work: you sling it on, load in the day's things and go, hands free. If you're going to wear it for eight hours straight, it might as well have a hare with character on the front — the kind that walks her own ground before she trusts it. Who she is and what she carries is in her biography; here she arrives light, in backpack form. And if you like how this hare fits into everyday life, she's from a whole family of characters I make, Yago Partal.