The Capucin has traveled a long road. This folding knife ranks among the oldest in France: well before today’s famous names existed, its fine blade and tapering handle rode in the pockets and on the belts of shepherds and farm workers, back when people kept the same knife their whole lives. The name comes from the shape. Hold the handle in profile, look at its tip, and the face of a monk takes form under the generous hood of his habit. The design is so simple and so right that the centuries have left no mark on it.
This particular Capucin, an old friend of the high plateaus, has put on a coat of ocean. Its abalone comes from a shellfish of cold seas at the far ends of the earth, and no nacre is more spectacular: lagoon blues, kelp greens and mauves roll across it in dark-rimmed waves, changing with the slightest tilt the way water changes under a passing wind. Every shell is different, and no other knife will ever carry these waves.
What results is a study in contrast. The most down-to-earth of knife profiles, born for shepherds’ pockets, is wrapped in the most oceanic of materials, and a design centuries old rests on a living nacre whose color shifts with the hour and with every move of the hand. Between the two, the chiseled spring and the forced notch are a reminder that the Capucin is still what it has always been, a fine, dependable and faithful tool. Plateau and ocean meet here inside 3.9 inches of nacre, in a piece unique in the world, to be carried the way you would carry a secret.
Handcrafted in Aveyron, the historic home of the Laguiole knife












