A Natural History of the Corozo Button
Some details aren't just details. They’re the threads that bind the past to the present — subtle markers of quality, craftsmanship, and care. Take, for example, the humble button. Overlooked by many, but never by those who know. Among the many materials vying for a place on a well-made garment, corozo stands apart — a quiet nod to nature’s ingenuity and the value of making things properly.
The story of corozo begins long before it adorned shirts and shorts. In the mid-1800s, as wooden sailboats plied the trade routes between South America and Europe, ships faced a constant risk: their ballast — often sand — would become waterlogged and dangerously heavy. The solution was found not in technology, but in the forests of South America: the tagua nut, also called corozo. Heavy enough to stabilise a ship yet impervious enough to water, these resilient seeds became essential cargo.
In Hamburg, Germany, an artist’s curiosity changed everything. Fascinated by the density and smooth texture of the nuts arriving in ships' hulls, he began carving them — revealing a material that could be shaped with fine precision. Buttons followed. So did a new trade, rooted in craftsmanship and a keen eye for the possibilities hidden in nature.
The corozo button in its dyed form
The corozo nut from the Tagua palm
By the 1920s, corozo buttons had become a mainstay of fine tailoring, particularly in the United States, earning the nickname “vegetable ivory” for their creamy colour and organic marbling. But fashions changed. The post-war plastics boom offered cheaper, faster alternatives — and, like many good things, corozo was nudged aside by mass production.
Yet true quality has a way of circling back. As the world woke up to the environmental cost of synthetic materials, corozo found itself once again in favour — prized not just for its handsome finish, but for what it represents: sustainability, longevity, authenticity.
The corozo button’s virtues go far beyond nostalgia. Sourced from the Tagua palm (Phytelephas macrocarpas), which thrives in the rainforests of South America, the nuts are gathered naturally after falling to the forest floor — no felling, no damage, no shortcuts. When sanded and shaped, corozo reveals a distinctive wave-like grain, each button quietly unique. Its porous nature drinks in dye beautifully, giving richer, deeper colours than most synthetics can muster. It’s hardy too — scratch-resistant, resilient, designed to weather the years with grace.
Cut into one, and you’ll still find the bright white core — a reminder that even after dyeing, the spirit of the material remains intact. A single Tagua palm can produce nuts for up to a century — a living symbol of renewal and patience. In every way that matters, corozo is the antithesis of fast fashion: vegan, biodegradable, and rooted in supporting the livelihoods of South American communities.
Corozo’s quiet durability, its natural variations, its ability to age with character — all align with our ethos of creating garments that are stylish without shouting, and are designed to stand the test of time.
You’ll find corozo buttons on our shirts, polo shirts and jackets, our shorts and chinos - thoughtfully placed, subtly distinctive. They’re part of the reason that KERRIN gear feels different: considered in every detail, built to live with you, not just for a season but for the long haul.
In the end, the choice of corozo isn’t about sentiment. It’s about substance. About making clothes that honour the past, respect the planet, and hold their own in the present.
