Maier, 47, has much to do with carrying on the flame. Hired by Tom Ford after the takeover (the two had been friends for years), the designer has brought the brand back to its roots after a brief but ill-fated flirtation with big BV logos by predecessor Giles Deacon. In three short years, Maier has effectively erased the period from the collective consciousness, restoring an image of consistency, stealth and debt-inducing luxury. He has also, ironically, come up with what may well be his own must-have bag.

Called the Cabat, or work bag, this supple tote is well on its way to joining the house's signature hobo bag, Hermes' Kelly and Chanel's chain-strapped shoulder bag in the accessories pantheon. Using the brand's labour-intensive intrecciato technique, in which fettucine-sized strips of leather are woven into intricate lattice works, the bag takes two artisans and as many days to complete. As a result, only 200 are produced a season. At $26,000-$35,000 a piece, you'll have to join Jennifer Lopez, Madonna and Kylie Minogue on the waiting list.

Quality, coupled with solid design, is at the crux of Maier's ethos. From bags and shoes to homewares and a limited selection of ready-to-wear, no corners are cut. 'I try to be real,' Maier says. 'It's a luxury product, an expensive product, and I think you have to be honest and give your customer the maximum for their money. If she finds out afterwards that the velvet, for instance, is actually a cheap, burned-out trick, a quick moneymaker, she'll feel very deceived and will leave you. You have to establish a very long-term relationship.'

For this reason, Maier makes a point of visiting the boutiques as often as he can, including the Harbour City outpost - one of three in Hong Kong - where we meet. 'It's funny,' he says, 'Wherever I go, I talk to the shop managers and they always tell me the same thing: that clients come in, look, and then leave. But then they come back and buy. I like that. I don't think you should push people to shop, especially with a product and price point like ours. You should see it, remember it - even compare it with other things - before making the investment.'

Unlike some of his contemporaries, Maier laughs at the idea of a 'muse' and doesn't believe in pigeon-holing his customers, saying only that 'he or she is somebody who appreciates quality and design'.

'I don't like to promote a 'look' because I don't think that is what our customer is about. Even with the clothing, we treat it like an accessory - one perfect pant, or a jacket that you wear with your own jeans. Everyone has their own personality and should do it their own way.'

Maier, who can wax poetic about products for hours but is reluctant to discuss his personal life ('It makes me uncomfortable'), says his love of design can be traced to his childhood. Born outside Baden-Baden to architect parents, he takes a pragmatic, Germanic approach to fashion. 'There is something to be said for rigour and not liking unnecessary detail - things that are decorative without function. I hate buckles that don't fasten. They're everywhere - buckles with zippers behind them, fake belts. Why have them?'

He also dislikes what he describes as the whole 'fashion fashion' thing. 'I have never liked the shows and the glitz. I went into this because I love the process of building and constructing something,' he says. 'It's the same as doing a house. Sometimes, it takes time. Few people liked the Villa Savoia by Le Corbusier at the time, and it has only become a pilgrimage 80 years later. For good design, it often takes some time to understand it.'

After fashion school, Maier worked as a freelance designer for brands as diverse as Rykiel Homme and furrier Revillon, Iceberg and Hermes. While the influence of the latter (he stayed there for nine years) can't be underestimated, Maier says he learned just as much working for high-street chains and mail-order brands. 'It's a challenge to do things at low price points that are still beautiful. My friends would always say, 'Why don't you focus on one thing, make a name for yourself in men's or women's wear, or in fur or leather?' In the end, what I am doing here is a resume of everything I did for 20 years, all the different areas. It shows there's no formula for life.'

Maier wasn't convinced about the Bottega Veneta job when he was first offered it. He had already started his own line - an eponymous collection of chic travel, lounge and swimwear that is still a success in its own right.

'My life was set up very differently at the time, and geographically it didn't work out.' A trip to the ateliers, located outside of Venice for the past 40 years, quickly changed his mind. 'They are the heart of Bottega Veneta. It's all about the workmanship.'

Now, he spends his time travelling between them, the Milan headquarters and his other homes in Paris and Miami. 'It's a bit like Hong Kong,' he says of the latter, 'All kinds of different people come together there and it's not so easy to label. There are new rules.'

The same applies to his designs. Asked which are his favourites, Maier comes up blank. 'It's hard to pick. They're all like kids to me. Some make it to a longer life, and some don't. Some prove to be lasting designs, while others become seasonal. It's like nature, you know, a natural evolution. What the customer really loves, survives.'