I switched to vegan leather goods 3 years ago and here's what held up and what didn't

Three years ago, I stood in my closet staring at a collection of leather goods I'd accumulated over my decade in finance. Expensive bags, Italian leather belts, shoes that cost more than my first month's rent. I'd been vegan for about a year at that point, and these items felt like artifacts from a life that no longer fit me.

So I made a decision. I donated what I could, gave pieces to friends who would use them, and committed to replacing everything with vegan alternatives.

What followed has been an education in materials science, marketing claims, and the sometimes uncomfortable gap between values and reality. Here's my honest assessment of what survived daily life and what ended up in the donation bin.

The Winners: What Actually Lasted

Let me start with the good news, because there's plenty of it. My Stella McCartney crossbody bag, purchased in early 2022, still looks nearly new. The edges haven't cracked, the hardware hasn't tarnished, and the interior lining remains intact.

I've carried this bag through airports, on trail runs to coffee shops afterward, and to countless dinners. The investment hurt at the time, but the cost-per-wear math has worked out beautifully.

My Matt & Nat work tote tells a similar story. Three years of hauling laptops, notebooks, and the general chaos of a writer's life, and the structure has held.

There's some softening at the corners, but it reads as character rather than deterioration. The recycled nylon lining has proven surprisingly resilient to spilled coffee and forgotten snacks.

What do these winners have in common? Both brands invested in quality construction, not just quality materials. The stitching is reinforced at stress points. The hardware is substantial. These weren't the cheapest vegan options available, but they weren't the most expensive either.

The Disappointments: Lessons Learned the Hard Way

Now for the harder truths. That gorgeous vegan leather jacket I bought from a fast-fashion brand? It started peeling after eight months.

The surface cracked along the fold lines where my arms bent, creating a texture that looked less "vintage" and more "falling apart." I'd been seduced by the price point and the Instagram aesthetic, and I paid for that shortcut.

My first pair of vegan leather boots fared even worse. The material didn't breathe, which led to moisture buildup, which accelerated the breakdown of the synthetic coating.

By month six, they looked like they'd survived a decade of hard use. The soles separated from the uppers during a rainy walk through the city, and I had to limp home in socks.

These failures taught me something important: not all vegan leather is created equal. The term covers everything from innovative plant-based materials to cheap PVC that off-gasses and cracks. Reading labels and researching brands became non-negotiable.

The Middle Ground: Acceptable Compromises

Some items landed in a gray zone. My vegan leather wallet has held up structurally, but the color has faded significantly where it rubs against the inside of my bag. It's functional but no longer beautiful. Would I buy it again? Probably, but I'd choose black instead of the cognac that showed every scuff.

My belt collection has been mixed. The thicker, more structured belts have maintained their shape and finish. The thinner, more flexible ones have developed cracks at the holes where I buckle them. I've learned to rotate between three belts rather than wearing the same one daily, which has extended their lifespan considerably.

These middle-ground items remind me that expectations matter. A $40 belt won't perform like a $150 one, regardless of material. But a $40 vegan belt can absolutely outperform a $40 conventional leather belt if you choose wisely.

What I Wish I'd Known: A Practical Framework

If I could go back and advise my 2022 self, here's what I'd say. First, prioritize construction over material claims. Look at the stitching, the hardware, the lining. These details predict longevity more reliably than marketing language about "premium vegan leather."

Second, research the specific material. Piñatex, made from pineapple leaf fiber, has different properties than apple leather or mushroom-based alternatives. Studies on sustainable leather alternatives show significant variation in durability and environmental impact. Know what you're buying.

Third, consider the item's use case. High-friction items like wallets and belts need more durable materials than a clutch you carry occasionally. Match the material to the demand.

The Environmental Question

I'd be dishonest if I didn't address the complexity here. Some vegan leathers are petroleum-based, which raises its own environmental concerns. The items that failed me ended up as waste, which isn't exactly a sustainability win.

But here's how I've made peace with it: I now buy fewer, better items. I research materials and choose plant-based or recycled options when possible. I care for what I own, conditioning surfaces and storing items properly. And I accept that perfection isn't the goal. Progress is.

The environmental impact of the fashion industry is staggering regardless of material choices. Buying less, buying better, and using what we own until it's truly worn out matters more than any single material decision.

Final Thoughts

Three years in, my vegan leather collection is smaller than my old leather one, but it's more intentional. I've learned to ask better questions before purchasing, to invest in quality where it matters, and to accept imperfection where it doesn't.

Would I make the switch again? Without hesitation. Not because every vegan leather product is superior, but because aligning my purchases with my values has brought a quiet satisfaction that no designer bag ever did. The failures taught me as much as the successes. And isn't that how most meaningful changes work?

What's in your closet that no longer fits who you're becoming?