Hightide Store DTLA

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I’ve always had a thing for paper, writing tools, and stationary—a borderline obsession, really. Always have. Especially if it’s made in Japan. The Japanese understand writing on a level that’s almost spiritual. They don’t just use the tools; they cherish them. The craftsmanship, the design, the subtle precision—it’s all there, humming with intent.

Now, let me be clear: I’ve got no ties to these people. They’re not sponsors, not some corporate overlords pulling strings. I’m just a customer with an unhealthy addiction. My go-to source for Japanese-made tools, notebooks, and other beautifully odd creations is Hightide. These folks get it. They nail the details, every damn time.

If you’re wired like I am, give them a look. Details here.

IDS AirTag Strap

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IDS is one of those slick operations that zeros in on the Leica crowd—hungry for prestige and not shy about squeezing every last dime from it. A market ripe for plunder, built on mystique and margins thicker than a Texas steak. But, against all odds, IDS might actually be one of the rare vultures that delivers something worthwhile.

Their latest strap? It’s not just a piece of leather and marketing fluff. It’s a genuinely clever design that conceals an AirTag, slipping a bit of 21st-century paranoia management into old-school aesthetics. A subtle stroke of genius for anyone who’s ever sweated over the whereabouts of their Leica in the chaos of the real world.

Details here.

Global Travel Bag

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The family needed another roller bag—or maybe two—and I pulled the trigger on this one with all the finesse of a drunken gambler. No research, no analysis, just gut instinct. The colors and materials caught my eye, and that was enough. Turns out, it’s a surprisingly solid piece of gear. At 44 liters, it’s got enough capacity to haul the essentials while still sliding under the carry-on radar without much fuss.

The internal organization? Overkill. Too many compartments, too much structure for a minimalist like me. But once it’s packed, all that nonsense disappears, leaving a bag that just works. At $200, it’s a steal—damned hard to beat for something I bought on a whim. Sometimes, dumb luck pays off.

Details here.

The Cunningham Coat

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Somewhere along the line, the world got it twisted, and suddenly the humble chore coat—a workhorse by design—turned into a damn puffed-up fortress of fabric. These days, it seems like every so-called “chore coat” on the market is a padded monstrosity, fit for Arctic expeditions but useless for the gritty, sweaty business of real work. This thing wasn’t born to be some quilted fortress against the cold; it was meant to keep you steady, mobile, and just warm enough when the air’s crisp but you’ve got work to do.

A true chore coat is as straightforward as a hammer and just as essential. It’s got pockets for your tools, sleeves that guard your arms from all the scrapes and scratches of honest labor, and it’s light enough to breathe. Perfect for fall. Spring too. And it’s not so bulky that you feel like you’re moving through molasses.

If you want the real deal, one coat still stands: Imperfects. Ran by a surfboard shaper—someone who knows a thing or two about utility over flash. This guy gets it. His coat is stripped-down, purpose-built, no frills, and no B.S. It’s the kind of coat that’ll move with you, not against you.

Details here.

Huckberry Beanie

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I’m a fussy bastard when it comes to beanies. Call it a sickness, call it a quest, but if a hat can’t keep your head from freezing, it’s just a fashion accessory for some Instagram-driven husk of a man who doesn’t know the raw bliss of a warm skull in a winter wind. But then, you give me one of those thick, itchy wads of wool, and I’d rather stick my head in a blender. Somewhere out there, I kept telling myself, there’s a beanie that doesn’t make you sweat like a linebacker and still fights off the godforsaken chill.

Enter the Huckberry beanie. The thing’s a revelation in simplicity. First off, it nails the elusive middle ground in thickness, which is practically an art form. Huckberry skipped the full-wool route and leaned into synthetics, with just a splash of wool—14% to be precise. But damned if it doesn’t stay warm without turning my head into a swamp. Just enough heft to keep the cold at bay but none of that suffocating wool weight that makes you want to tear the thing off and fling it across the room.

Size-wise, it’s a miracle in minimalism. One small fold, and it’s down over the ears, doing its job like a quiet hero. Roll it up a little higher, and it perches right where it should. No flopping around like a sad sock, no creeping up the head like it’s trying to escape. This thing fits.

And here’s the kicker: thirty bucks. For the price of a cheap lunch, you get a beanie that actually works. It’s a rare find, a gem in the oversaturated wasteland of overpriced “outdoor gear” nonsense.

More details here.

Aether X Leica Reporter Jacket

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This is exactly the kind of lunacy that lights a fire under my ass. Leica teams up with Aether to make a “Reporter Jacket”—a jacket supposedly crafted specifically for photographers wielding the Leica M. Sounds cool on paper, right?

Then, they slap on an $800 price tag. Eight hundred bucks for waxed cotton and a horde of pockets. Now, at $300, maybe I’d understand… But let’s not kid ourselves—any photographer with half a brain could wander into a military surplus store, grab an M-65 jacket for under a hundred, and walk out better equipped and better dressed for the job of actually taking pictures.

Details here.

Lego Locking Notebook

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My kid got one of these contraptions for school, and damn it—I’m hooked. It’s a notebook that locks up with Lego, cover and all, even has a Lego pen that snaps right in. The whole thing’s absurdly tactile, satisfying in that click-and-snap kind of way that sinks its claws into your brain. Now I sort of want one for myself, just for the joy of fidgeting with the damn thing.

Details here.

The Pioneer Savant Pack

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The last stop on our Pioneer Carry tour… The Savant Pack. And if you’ve learned one thing from this ride, it’s that these guys have a borderline obsessive knack for picking the right materials. Wallet, pouch, pack—it doesn’t matter. Pioneer knows what the hell they’re doing with both textiles and a sewing machine.

The Savant Pack is wrapped in Mandarin 840, a ballistic nylon that sounds tactical on paper, but in person? It’s got a luxury swagger to it. Imagine if 1000D Cordura went to charm school, but spent its nights lifting weights in some dimly lit basement gym, plotting revenge. This thing feels more Prada than GoRuck, which is to say—don’t let the fancy texture fool you. It’s still tough as nails.

In any case, that ballistic nylon is cut and sewn into a three compartment bag. First, there’s one of the best laptop compartments I’ve ever used. It provides easy access through the top, is spacious enough for just about any laptop, and is both padded and suspended for your machines protection.

Forward of that is the main compartment fed through a clamshell opening. It feels a bit on the smallish side for a 20L bag, but provides enough room for one layer of pouches or a few rolls of clothes. There’s also a document sleeve and two zippered pockets featuring some of the best flex mesh I’ve ever encountered – very smooth, flexible, and luxurious.

Finally, the last compartment up front… A half zip provides access to the full length of the bag and organization is abundant. The back wall features four sleeve pockets as well a smartly designed key leash with a simple button snap to secure anything you can fit the leash through. The interesting part here is that the further down the bag your hand goes, the more it opens up in dimension. In fact, this compartment feels larger than the main compartment. It could easily fit a fairly thick top layer, a pair of shoes, or a generously outfitted tech pouch.

To be frank, the allotment of volume between the compartments initially confused me. Why would I want to restrict the space in the main compartment to provide more in what is typically considered a quick access compartment? And then it hit me… The Savant isn’t limiting itself as a dedicated travel bag. It’s an everyday bag that seems to be targeted towards the professional.

Look at the material again. Sure, it’s tough enough to ride shotgun next to your denim jacket, but it’ll also slide right in with your business attire, no problem. And then the layout makes sense—space for a powerhouse laptop, a document sleeve for the corporate grind, and plenty of organization for all your business gadgets. And that front pocket? Perfect for overflow gear or your gym clothes and shoes after the 9-to-5 grind.

I don’t know if this clicks for you like it did for me, but once I saw it through that lens, the bag started to make sense. It stopped being confusing and started being brilliant.

So here’s the million-dollar question: Is the Savant Pack worth its $335 price tag? Is it a three-hundred-dollar bag?

Abso-fucking-lutely. After weeks with this thing, my takeaway is simple—Pioneer is serious about using the best damn materials out there and putting them together with top-tier craftsmanship. The Savant is no exception. It’s an expensive pack, sure, but worth every single penny. The only question is, do you have the right use case?

More details here.