Real footage of me making your leather in the workshop, located in Treaty 6 Territory.

One of a Kind

Using a mix of classic leather techniques and modern design tools, I craft one of a kind pieces in my little commercial studio.

Variety sizes

I craft wearable leather in a range of sizes ready to order, and can make adjustments to certain items to get a bespoke fit.

GG's wild ride to learning leather

I was not a cute kid. This is a safe space to admit I was downright ugly, and not in a cute way.

Clumps of stringy dirty blonde hair hung from my head, usually unwashed for weeks, and my hands were plagued with warts. Any clothing I tolerated on my skin was selected for maximum cartwheel stretch. My teeth were too large for my mouth, and an upturned nose didn't help. The combination gave big rodent energy, at least according to my 8th grade teacher, who drew me as a squirrel-person during art class to drive home the point.

Basically, I was a 90's Tina (if you know, you know)... I ran around like a horse, drew unicorns compulsively, had invisible horse friends, played horse computer games, wrote epic horse tales—you name it. I was not the child of a hockey player, so weaselling a way into the stables took some drastic measures, but by ten years old I had a weekend job as a stable hand and agreement with my parents to be dropped off once a week for 8 hours.

I was delighted.

My love for cleaning tack was a ritual as much as currency; boiling bits, taking apart martingales, cleaning them with delicious-smelling conditioners, I mucked stalls and scooped sweet grain all so I could take lessons from any barn that would accept unpaid labour from an obviously "odd" child with a visibly hard home life.

This naturally resulted in some euphoric and equally painful experiences. I've galloped bareback on a buckskin bridleless through a field of daisies, yes, but I've also experienced exploitative relationships during critical developmental years. I've witnessed firsthand some of this country's deepest concentrations of wealth and power, played out in arenas dripping with privilege. I knew full well I did not belong, but plopped my butt in the saddle at every opportunity.

Life took me on a wild ride— I worked my way up the corporate ladder, all while lacking a helpful neurodiversity diagnosis. I was the only Tina in a sea of Harvey Spectres; I felt adrift in the wrong crossover, and my body began to protest. Chronic illness entered the fray in my mid 20's, which worsened over time. Eventually, riding horses became a no-go, as did working at the same pace. A gift and a curse, truly; I sought answers, and began to question the dynamics around me. I left my ex husband. I came out as queer, re-skilled myself, took courses, built my portfolio, cried, fell in love again.

During this dark night of the soul, the gay glitter gods of burlesque smiled upon me. Learning this glorious art form helped me regain my confidence after a tough marriage separation, and it exposed me to yet another outlet: costume design.

Some people knit, I make leather and shake ass. It turns out several of the other staff I work with in my new creative career make leather items as a hobby, too, but I think I'm the only one that wiggles the hips on stage to Queen remixes. I love trading supplier reviews during a coffee break, and getting tips on sewing. Lesson: the answer to my career woes = find and work with other Tina's who just want to beep about a special interest with you, and leave the Harvey Spectres to their own Hunger Games.