Once Upon a Time in Cologne, Germany
On 4 July 2025, the Higher Regional Court of Cologne (OLG Köln), in case 6 U 51/25, ruled that a company could not advertise non-leather dog collars as “Apfelleder” (“apple leather”). The court considered the term misleading because consumers could understand “leather” as referring to genuine animal leather, and adding “apple” did not make the composition of the material sufficiently clear.
The court also found that describing the products as “vegan” elsewhere on the website did not solve the problem because the clarification was not sufficiently prominent.
The ruling raises a much bigger question for anyone working with alternative materials: what happens when the terminology we have been using to describe these materials becomes legally or commercially problematic?
And perhaps an even more interesting question is: was “vegan leather” ever the best name for them in the first place?
The End of a Toxic Relationship?
The Cologne ruling understandably triggered criticism from vegan brands and businesses working with leather alternatives. If terms such as “apple leather” or other variations become increasingly restricted, it becomes harder to communicate to consumers what a new material is intended to replace.
But as a non-vegan person working with alternative materials, I have a slightly uncomfortable question.
If the reason for choosing a vegan material is to reject the use of animals for human purposes, why is it important that the material is called leather?
Why not proudly say: “I’m wearing a plant-based material.”
Wouldn't that make the statement even stronger?
There is something slightly contradictory about calling a material “vegan leather”. The first word tells us very little, as it is too vague; the second tells us what the material is not. Neither tells us much about what the material actually is.
And perhaps this is where the terminology debate becomes more interesting than a simple discussion about veganism.
By calling a new material “vegan leather”, aren't we allowing leather to remain the reference point? Instead of creating a new material narrative, we continue to explain innovation through the established material it is trying to replace.
Relationship Status: It’s Complicated
When we say “leather”, we more or less know what we mean. Conventional leather has a defined material structure, chemistry and a very long history of production and craftsmanship. There is an enormous body of knowledge around how it behaves, how it is processed and what applications it is suitable for.
“Vegan leather”, by comparison, tells us remarkably little.
At its most basic, it means a material that is not derived from animals and can be used for products traditionally made from leather. That's about it.
It does not tell us whether the material is made from polyurethane, PVC, agricultural residues, cellulose, mycelium, algae, rubber, microbial fermentation or something else entirely. It does not tell us how it was manufactured, how flexible or rigid it is, how it behaves under stress, whether it can be stitched, moulded or embossed, or how it performs over time.
Yet all of these things are crucial when introducing a new material to the market.
Somewhere along the way, an entire category of radically different materials became marketed under one broad idea: a substitute for leather. It was an understandable marketing shortcut. Leather is a familiar material, a huge global market and an established benchmark. Telling consumers that something is an “alternative to leather” immediately gives them a point of reference.
But there is a price to this shortcut.
The more materials we put under the umbrella of “vegan leather”, the less useful the term becomes as a description of the material itself.
It can also create expectations. A consumer sees “vegan leather” and expects something that behaves like leather. A designer sees “vegan leather” and may assume that the same construction methods will work. A buyer sees “vegan leather” and may compare its price directly with conventional leather.
But two materials described as “vegan leather” can have almost nothing in common.
And this is where the terminology can start working against the very materials it was intended to promote.
Beyond the Leather Complex
There is another reason I think we should be more careful with the term.
The category of leather alternatives has developed enormously. Some materials are genuinely new in terms of chemistry, production technology and material behaviour. Others are improvements on existing synthetic technologies. Some are bio-based. Some are plastic-free. Some are composites. Some are cultivated.
Putting all of them under the same label risks flattening these differences.
A mycelium-based material is not simply another version of PU leather. An algal foam is not the same material as an algal blend. A plant-based composite can behave very differently from a cultivated material. Even materials within the same broad category can require completely different processing techniques.
The material therefore matters far more than the umbrella term.
This is particularly important for designers.
Working with a leather alternative is not necessarily a matter of taking an existing leather pattern and replacing one material with another. Depending on the material, you may need different seam allowances, reinforcement, adhesives, stitching techniques, edge treatments or construction methods. Some materials are excellent for structured products but unsuitable for highly draped garments. Some perform beautifully when moulded but require backing when used as a sheet. Others offer unusual surface effects that would be lost if treated simply as a leather substitute.
In other words, the way a material is made and what it is made from tells you much more about how to work with it than the word “vegan” ever could.
So What Should We Call Them?
I am not suggesting that we stop explaining that these materials can replace animal leather. That comparison remains commercially and practically useful. Consumers need reference points, and “leather alternative” is still a useful category term.
But perhaps we should distinguish between the category and the material.
“Leather alternatives” can describe the broader market category: materials that can be used for applications traditionally associated with leather.
Within that category, however, we could be much more specific.
We could talk about plant-based alternatives or simply plant-based materials.
We could talk about mycelium alternatives or fungal materials.
We could talk about algal materials or seaweed-based materials.
We could talk about cultivated materials where the production technology genuinely warrants that distinction.
And we could talk about microbial materials — or, if you prefer my personal approach, just say: “It’s made with kombucha.”
There is even an interesting exception to the whole debate. If a cultivated material is actually leather in terms of its chemistry and structure, then using the word “leather” may be entirely justified. In that case, the word describes what the material actually is rather than merely what it is intended to replace.
That distinction matters.
A Different Way of Marketing Bio-Based Materials
Perhaps the biggest opportunity here is not linguistic at all. It is strategic.
The next generation of bio-based materials does not necessarily need to win by convincing consumers that they are indistinguishable from leather.
They can win by offering something different.
A different tactile experience. A different visual language. Different design possibilities. Different processing methods. Different raw materials. Different supply chains. Different performance characteristics.
That does not mean every alternative is automatically better. It means that each material should be evaluated on its own qualities rather than being judged solely by how closely it resembles conventional leather.
This also changes the conversation around price.
If a new material is compared exclusively with leather, the question becomes: Why does this cost more than leather?
If it is understood as a new material with its own technology, production process, performance and design possibilities, the question becomes: What does this material offer, and what is its value?
Those are very different conversations.
And yes, this approach will probably make the marketing team sweat a little.
But building a distinct material narrative is a much more interesting long-term investment than continuously trying to make every innovation fit into an old category.
Perhaps It Is Time to See Other Materials
I still use the term “alternative” because it is useful. It is easier for brands, designers and consumers to understand their potential applications.
But I increasingly question the idea that “vegan leather” should be the default name for everything that comes next.
The term was convenient. It created an immediate reference point. It helped establish a market.
But the market has moved on.
We now have materials with completely different origins, technologies and possibilities. They deserve to be understood on their own terms.
Perhaps the goal should not be to make a mycelium material, an algal material or a plant-based composite be perceived as leather.
Perhaps the goal should be to make people curious about mycelium, algae, plants, fermentation and all the technologies that are creating new material possibilities.
And if you really want to keep the leather reference without pretending that the material is leather, there is always another option.
Call your bag a ZERO-LEATHER bag.
I actually do something similar in real life. Whenever I take one of my alternative-material bags for a walk and someone asks what it is made from, my first answer is usually:
“It’s not made with leather.”
Then I explain what it actually is.
“These are mushrooms.”
Or:
“It’s plant-based and contains zero plastic.”
Or sometimes, if I am feeling particularly unhelpful:
“You don't want to know what it’s made of. The design is really good.”
Perhaps that is where we should be heading.
Not away from leather alternatives, but beyond the idea that every alternative needs to borrow leather's identity in order to have value.
The new generation of materials deserves more than an alternative identity.
It deserves its own story.
At Substanz, we help brands navigate this growing landscape by selecting and sourcing verified next-generation materials suited to specific designs and applications, and supporting them from material selection and sampling through prototyping and production. The aim is simple: to make innovative materials understandable, accessible and, most importantly, fit for purpose.
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