Laird Leatherman 2026 - Sir Z

04/09/2026

03/09/2026

Nobody looked

I noticed something while I was in Amsterdam for WorldPride.
I was walking through the city in leather, boots, leather pants, jacket, clearly not dressed for a quiet afternoon at the Rijksmuseum. I was expecting the usual glance. You probably know the one. Someone looks at you. Looks away. Then, a few seconds later, looks again.

Most of the time there is nothing hostile about it. Sometimes it's curiosity. Sometimes appreciation. Sometimes they're simply trying to work out what exactly they're looking at.

When you're visibly gay, visibly leather, or simply dressed differently from everyone around you, you become quite good at noticing those glances.

Walking into a café, I would automatically scan the room. Sitting outside in leather, I noticed who was passing. Walking beside another leatherman, somewhere in the back of my mind I was still reading people's faces.

In Amsterdam, I realised I wasn't getting much information back. Nobody seemed particularly interested.

Men were walking around in leather. Pride flags hung everywhere. Q***r couples held hands, kissed, drank coffee, caught trams, argued over directions and did all the wonderfully boring things couples do. And the city just carried on around them.

We often talk about visibility as something positive, and of course it is. Being visible matters. Pride matters. Seeing someone like yourself occupying public space confidently can mean a lot, especially if you've spent part of your life wondering whether there was a place for you in it.

But there's another kind of freedom that we talk about less. The freedom of not being noticed at all. Because nobody particularly cares.

There was something wonderfully ordinary about walking through Amsterdam in leather and slowly forgetting to check whether anyone was looking.

I didn't have to make a statement.
I didn't have to represent leather.
I didn't have to represent gay men.
I was just a man walking down the street wearing what he wanted to wear.

Of course, this was Amsterdam during WorldPride. The city was dressed for the occasion too. Pride flags were everywhere, q***r people had arrived from around the world, and leather and fe**sh were unusually visible. I'm not suggesting every q***r person experiences Amsterdam this way every day. But for a few days, I experienced what acceptance can feel like when it becomes normal.

We often imagine acceptance as applause. Someone telling us we're welcome. A rainbow flag in the window. A celebration, a parade, a declaration.

Those things matter. But perhaps the final destination is much more like when a leatherman walks into a café and the waiter only wants to know if he wanted oat milk.

Nobody stared.
Nobody whispered.
Nobody cared.
And for once, that felt wonderful.

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Photo by Tyler Tippet

21/08/2026

Mark the date, event detail coming soon.
📸 by Tyler Tippett Photography

07/08/2026

Amsterdam is amazingly accepting for fe**sh, on the streets, in restaurants, I had the best time here. And so glad to meet all my European leather families here! Happy Pride all 🖤

16/07/2026

BLUF
There’s a leather style that catches everyone’s attention before anything else.

BLUF.

Even people who don't wear BLUF often admire it.

Took me years to build my own BLUF wardrobe. Finding the right boots. The right jacket. Hunting down pieces that fit exactly the way I wanted. To this day, putting on full BLUF still feels different from wearing any other outfit I own.
At first I thought it was simply about looking masculine. Now I think it's about something completely different.

Clarity.

BLUF leaves very little undecided. Nothing accidental. And there is something deeply satisfying about that.

Outside the leather bar, life rarely goes as planned. Then Thursday arrives.
You polish the boots.
You put on the Sam Browne.
You straighten the collar.
You tighten the last buckle.
For a little while, everything sits exactly where it belongs.

But please don’t assume uniforms erase individuality. It’s the opposite. Once the distractions disappear, personality becomes easier to see.

Two men can wear almost identical BLUF uniforms, yet one feels approachable, another authoritative, another feels playful, another quiet and cool.

The uniform doesn't hide the man. It reveals how he carries himself.

I've never seen BLUF as conformity. I see it as self-reflection - being the man I always strive to be.

Confidence without arrogance.
Strength without aggression.
Presence without needing attention.

BLUF simply becomes the language to express those ideas.

If you know me, you’ll know that I appreciate people who mix leather with fashion and other fe**sh wear. I do it myself, too. Some nights I leave the polished uniform at home. I wear bleacher jeans, a softer jacket, something unexpected and it lets me express who I am.

BLUF does something completely different to me. The discipline of creating order on the outside reminds me to look for it on the inside.

The boots eventually come off.
The jacket returns to its hanger.
The clean lines disappear.

What remains is the man who wore them.

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The views shared here are my own, you might see things differently, and that’s perfectly okay. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to DM me or come find me at The Laird on Thursdays.
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Photo by Tyler Tippet

03/07/2026

Follow the Leatherman Returns!
Maybe you’ve been leather-curious. Maybe you’ve walked past The Laird a dozen times. Maybe you’ve even had “I’ll go one day...” on your to-do list for the last two years.
Wait no more!
Follow the Leatherman is a relaxed meet-up hosted by Laird Leathermen Jay and Sir Z for anyone who’s curious about leather, kink, or simply wants to meet some genuinely good company before heading to Spit & Polish.
From 7:30pm, every third Thursday of the month, at Stingos Hotel, a historical and long standing supporter of the leather and LGBTQI+ communities.
No pressure, No gatekeepers. No expectation that you’ll know what a Sam Browne is or own five pairs of boots.
We’ll chat, answer questions, introduce you to a few friendly faces, and when everyone’s ready, we’ll wander over to The Laird together.
Who knows? You might discover your next favourite Thursday night.
If you have some leather gear, bring them with you. If not, that’s perfectly fine too. A smile is an acceptable dress code.
🖤 New to leather? Perfect.
🖤 New to kink? Come say hello.
🖤 Been around forever? We’d love you to help welcome the next generation.
Everyone starts somewhere.
Come follow the Leatherman.
Event link: https://www.facebook.com/share/1CS1pRmGf1/

02/07/2026

What to wear

It’s leather night. I open my wardrobe and ask myself.
What to wear?!!!

I have three pairs of leather pants in different colours. Two vests in slightly different design. Two jackets. Two Sam Brownes. Seven pairs of boots. A trench coat. More gloves, caps, arm bands and accessories than I probably need.

And yet, I still find myself standing in front of the rack for ages, wondering what feels right tonight.

Not what looks best.
What FEELS right.

Some nights call for full BLUF. Clean lines, polished boots, every buckle exactly where it should be, a muir cap pulled low over my eyes.

Other nights feel lighter. Bleacher jeans and chaps with a vest instead of a jacket, over a white T-shirt.

Sometimes the trench coat wins before I even think about what's underneath…

Over the years I've realised this ritual isn't about getting dressed.
It's to get myself ready.

Each piece asks a slightly different question.
How do I want to carry myself tonight?
Do I want to feel approachable?
Dominant?
Playful?

To me, leather has become less about building an outfit and more about setting an intention.

The boots are usually the turning point. Once they're laced and the weight settles beneath me, the workday begins to fall away. The noise quietens. I stop thinking about emails, errands and everything waiting for me tomorrow.

By the time I fasten the last buckle and check myself in the mirror, something has shifted.

Not that leather changed who I am, but the ritual of getting ready reminded me who I wanted to be.

Leather night doesn’t begin when I walk into the Laird. It begins when I first open my wardrobe.

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The views shared here are my own, you might see things differently, and that’s perfectly okay. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to DM me or come find me at The Laird on Thursdays.

25/06/2026

After midnight

My leather nights usually have three parts: preparation, the time at the Laird, and after midnight. When I finally get home, the ritual isn't over yet.

The jacket comes off first, then the belt, the boots, the pants, the shirt and the accessories. Each buckle opens with a softer sound than it made a few hours earlier.

Earlier, fastening those same buckles filled me with confidence and strength. Now they're simply returning to the rack.

We often think leather is about putting something on, but I think it's about what stays after you've taken it off.

Does the confidence and strength remain?

Leather has given me the style, traditions, and a community. But eventually the jacket finds its hanger, the boots return to the floor. If those disappear with the jacket, then perhaps they never belonged to me in the first place.

After midnight, when I stripped down to myself, that's when I discover what leather has been saying to me all evening.

Respect.
Restraint.
Presence.
Care.

The things I can carry with or without leather. And the reasons I keep coming back every Thursday.

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The views shared here are my own, you might see things differently, and that’s perfectly okay. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to DM me or come find me at The Laird on Thursdays.

Photo by The Hide Sydney

18/06/2026

Not tonight

One of the most important lessons leather taught me wasn't how to approach someone.

It was how to walk away.

That probably sounds strange.

From the outside, leather is often imagined as confidence, pursuit, desire made visible. People assume the challenge is finding the courage to approach someone.

Sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes it becomes a conversation. And sometimes the answer is simply:
"Not tonight."

I used to take those moments personally. Maybe I had said the wrong thing. Maybe I wasn't attractive enough. Maybe I had misunderstood whatever signal I thought I'd seen.

It took me a while to realise attraction isn't a transaction.
That doesn't make rejection enjoyable, there's always a small sting to it.

I think many of us know that feeling well. Leather taught me to separate those things.

One person's answer is not a verdict on your worth.
It's simply an answer.

The way a man handles rejection tells you far more about him than the way he handles success.

Anyone can be charming when the answer is yes. The real test comes when it isn't.

Can he make the other person feel comfortable giving an honest answer?
Can he accept disappointment without turning it into someone else's responsibility?
Can he leave the interaction with the same warmth he arrived with?

But there is another side to this.

Most of us will spend far more time rejecting than being rejected. That's simply how attraction works.

And I think there is a skill to that too.

A smile with a shake of head, a simple "thank you, but not tonight."

Nothing elaborate, just enough kindness for the other person to leave with their dignity intact.

Rejection itself is rarely what lingers, embarrassment does. Being made to feel foolish for asking does. Being treated as though your interest was a problem does.

The leather spaces I admire most seem to understand this instinctively. They create room for someone to express interest, and room for someone else to decline it.

A confident man doesn't need every door to open. He simply appreciates the ones that do.

I think good Sirs understand this instinctively. There is a quiet confidence in hearing an answer and letting it stand. No argument. No wounded pride. No need to prove anything.

Sometimes the most respectful thing you can say is:
"Thank you for letting me know." And then walk away, because it doesn't define you.

This isn't only about hearing "no." It's also about giving it well. Offering an answer clearly and kindly, receiving an answer with the same grace.

Somewhere between those two things, trust begins to form.
And respect has always been far more interesting to me than getting my way.

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The views shared here are my own, you might see things differently, and that’s perfectly okay. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to DM me or come find me at The Laird on Thursdays.