Hi, I'm Eric.
If you were to step into my workshop on a quiet Tuesday afternoon, you’d probably find me hunched over a heavy oak bench that’s seen better days, a chilled bottle of cream soda within arm's reach, and the steady, rhythmic thwack-thwack of a mallet echoing off the walls. There is something about the atmosphere of a workshop that just settles the soul. It’s a place where time slows down, and the only things that truly matter are the piece of leather in front of me and the tools in my hands.
People often ask me about the "secret" to making gear that lasts a lifetime. They expect me to talk about high-tech machinery or complex industrial processes. Little did they know, my most valuable companions are tools that haven't changed much in a hundred years.
While the modern world rushes toward automation and laser-thin efficiency, I’ve found my home in the traditional. These tools aren't just pieces of steel and wood; they are the bridge between my hands and the history of this craft. They are the tools that made me the craftsman I am today. Today, I want to take you on a little tour of my workbench and share why these specific hand tools are the heartbeat of The Kilted Leatherworker.
The Stitching Pony: My Third Hand
The first tool you’d notice: mostly because it looks like a strange wooden sculpture clamped to the side of my bench: is the stitching pony.
In the world of mass production, machines fly through stitches at a thousand beats per minute. But in my world, every stitch is a choice. The stitching pony is essentially a tall, wooden clamp that holds the leather upright so I can use both hands for the needles. As you may have guessed, trying to hold two needles, an awl, and a thick piece of leather all at once without a pony is a recipe for frustration (and a lot of dropped needles).
There’s a tactile relationship here that a machine can’t replicate. When the leather is held firmly in those wooden jaws, I can feel the tension of the thread as I pull it through. I can see the way the leather responds to every stitch. It’s about more than just "holding" the work; it’s about creating a stable environment where I can focus on making sure every single stitch is perfect. It turns a chaotic process into a meditative rhythm.
The Swivel Knife: Drawing with Steel
If the stitching pony is my third hand, the swivel knife is my voice. This is the tool that allows me to "draw" on leather.
Originally perfected in the American West for the intricate floral tooling on saddles and holsters, the swivel knife is a unique beast. It’s a small, chisel-edged blade with a "saddle" on top for your index finger. The barrel of the knife rotates, allowing me to pivot the blade as I pull it through the moistened leather.
Using a swivel knife feels less like cutting and more like dancing. You have to balance the pressure of your finger with the movement of your wrist. If you press too hard, you’ll cut through the heart of the hide; too light, and the design lacks depth. I love the way it glides through vegetable-tanned leather: it’s smooth, silent, and incredibly precise. Whether I’m outlining a custom design for a bespoke pouch or adding a subtle detail to a strap, the swivel knife is what gives a piece its soul.
The Maul and the Rhythm of the Shop
You won’t find any electric presses here. When I need to drive a punch or a stamp, I reach for my maul.
A maul is essentially a heavy, cylindrical mallet, usually made of a dense polymer or rawhide. It’s weighted perfectly to provide a solid, dead-blow strike. Unlike a hardware store hammer, which can bounce or mar your tools, a leatherworker’s maul is designed to transfer energy directly and cleanly.
There is a specific sound to a maul hitting a pricking iron: a deep, satisfying thud that tells me the tool has done its job. I enjoy the physicality of it. It’s a workout for the arm and a focus for the mind. When I’m working on a large project, like The Wayfarer’s Tote | Hand-Stitched Leather Carry-all, the rhythmic beat of the maul becomes the soundtrack of the day.
The French Edger and the Bone Folder: The Subtle Shapers
Some tools are about brute force or sharp cuts, but the French edger and the bone folder are about the "finesse."
The French Edger is a specialized tool used for thinning the edges of the leather, a process called skiving. If I’m making a fold: say, on the edge of The Chronicler’s Cover | Burgundy Leather Journal Sleeve: I don’t want it to be overly bulky. The French edger allows me to shave off thin, uniform curls of leather from the underside, ensuring the finished product is sleek but still incredibly strong. It’s a delicate operation; one wrong move and you’ve thinned the leather too much. But when it’s done right? The transition is seamless.
Then there’s the Bone Folder. Historically made from real cattle bone (hence the name), it’s a smooth, blunt tool used for creasing and shaping. I use it to "turn" edges, to smooth out glue lines, and to give the leather a finished, professional look without ever cutting into it. It’s the ultimate tactile tool. You can feel the leather "giving" under the pressure of the bone, settling into the shape you want it to hold for the next fifty years.
Pricking Irons and the Humble Awl
Before the first needle ever touches the leather, the path must be cleared. This is where the pricking irons and the awl come in.
Traditional pricking irons don't actually punch holes all the way through the leather; they mark the spacing and the angle of the stitch. I tap them with my maul to leave a series of perfectly slanted "marks." Then, as I stitch, I use a diamond-shaped stitching awl to pierce through those marks one at a time.
Why go through all that trouble when I could just use a punch that goes all the way through? Because the awl allows for a much cleaner, tighter stitch. When you pierce the leather with an awl as you go, the fibers of the leather close back up around the thread, "locking" it in place. It’s a slower process, but it’s the hallmark of true traditional craftsmanship. It ensures that even if a thread were to break (which is rare with the heavy-duty thread I use), the whole seam wouldn't unravel.
Why Traditional Tools Matter
In a world that’s increasingly digital and "untouchable," there is something profoundly grounding about these tools. They require patience. They require a bit of sweat. They require you to be present in the moment.
When I hold a tool that a saddler in the 1800s would recognize instantly, I feel a sense of responsibility. I’m not just making a wallet or a bag; I’m carrying on a tradition of honest materials and durable craftsmanship. These tools allow me to create pieces that are unconditionally loved: not because they are perfect, but because they are human.
Every mark made by my swivel knife, every hole pierced by my awl, and every edge shaped by my bone folder is a testament to the time I’ve invested in your gear. It’s a connection between me, the materials, and you.
Thank you for taking the time to peek inside my workshop today. It means the world to me that you appreciate the "slow way" of doing things. If you ever have questions about the tools I use or the process behind my work, don't hesitate to reach out. The door (and the soda fridge) is always open.
Stay adventurous,
Eric