When I was about ten years old, a new neighbour moved in next door. The five families who had lived there before had to move out because the house had been sold by the trust for a "good price."

The bank director now owned a house that was about three times as large as ours. He lived there alone for about eight years and had three different wives during that time. However, throughout the entire period, he had one goat, which bleated right outside my window. When the director started going on holiday more, I was allowed to feed Gusti every day. The goat, which was very stubborn and could eat potato peels at an incredible rate, not only outstayed three spouses but, as far as I know, also survived the next two house moves.

Over five years ago, my parents also decided to start keeping goats. Obviously, the buck had to be named Gusti. Whenever someone shouted "Gusti", all three goats responded to the name. Although, of course, Luise and Lotte knew perfectly well what their names were, or so we thought.

Later, we were brainstorming a suitable name for a leather brand whose assortment is made up of 90% goat leather with friends, only one name came to mind:

Gusti Leather