Behind the Harness & Sash: Folsom Reflections

I feel so fortunate to live in Los Angeles, and one of my favorite things about it is how easy it is to escape for a quick getaway. When I lived in New York City, my options were limited. I went to Fire Island once, for a single day, and came home sunburned and wondering why I’d ever do that again. To be fair, I went alone, had no idea what I was doing, and didn’t plan ahead. That one’s on me. I also made it to the Hamptons a couple of times, but only as a cater-waiter, bussed out with two dozen other tuxedo-clad struggling actors. My only real “getaways” were trips back to Vermont, where I’d joke about going home just to breathe fresh air, and visits to a friend in Ronkonkoma, Long Island.

Living in Los Angeles, my escapes feel limitless. I can drive down to San Diego, through the desert to Palm Springs, or even to Las Vegas (which I’ve done… for a man, once upon a time). Or I can hop on a quick flight to San Francisco. I’ve grown to love those weekend trips north. They give me a little hit of city life, a reminder of my New York days, and a chance to catch up with friends.

I usually have a reason for going to San Francisco whether it’s performing in a Mortified show or attending an event like Pride, Dore Alley, or Folsom Street Fair. I’d just been up in July for Dore, but this was my first Folsom as a titleholder, and I wanted to share a few highlights from the weekend.

In the past, I was the kind of person who partied hard and stayed up late. These days, I’ve come to appreciate my early bedtimes. That meant skipping the Friday night kick-off I used to love: the Trophy Daddy party: Prime. It starts at 10 p.m., which really means nothing happens until midnight, and while I’ve learned to enjoy parties without drinking, I decided this year to rest up instead. Folsom weekend is a marathon, not a sprint. I still recommend their events (they never disappoint) but pacing myself felt right this time around.

Once I arrived and checked into my hotel, I dashed over to Trader Joe’s for essentials: water, water, and more water. On the way, I spotted a familiar face, Jamal Herrera O’Malley, IML 46. I was only a few steps behind him, debating whether to say hello. Would he remember me from our brief chat at Encuerado Weekend? Probably not, I told myself, and kept walking. But two blocks later, I heard a friendly “Hi!” and turned to find Jamal smiling right at me.

“Don’t I know you?” he asked.

“Yes! Hi, it’s good to see you again,” I said, fumbling slightly over whether I needed to reintroduce myself. It’s funny how many internal conversations you can have in the middle of a single real one. We exchanged the standard Folsom-weekend questions: When did you get in? What events are you hitting? before realizing we’d arrived at Trader Joe’s. We said goodbye, as Jamal made his way to the nearby gym, and I immediately replayed the whole thing in my head, analyzing every word.

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Since winning this title, I’ve noticed that I second-guess myself more. I want to represent the community well and respect what the title stands for. But reflecting on that moment later, I reminded myself why I wanted this in the first place, to show up authentically. That’s what I plan to carry with me all year.

My favorite part of the weekend came next: the Mr. S Leather Alley Party. I’ve always joked that it’s the best “free” event that ends up costing me the most. I used to make full use of the free beer before spending too much on new gear. This time, sans alcohol and with a clearer purchasing plan, I kept it modest. What made it special wasn’t the shopping but the camaraderie, meeting more of my IML classmates and other titleholders. Wearing my new title vest gave me a little boost of confidence, a sense of belonging. These titles create instant connections, and I’m looking forward to seeing where those connections lead.

Sunday was a big day. Even before the fair officially began, I had a packed morning. Thanks to some guidance from my titleholder group chat, I reached out to Daddy Ray in San Francisco, who graciously got me on the list for two events: the legendary Folsom Leather Brunch hosted by Donna Sachet, Empress of San Francisco, now in its 27th year, and the Titleholder Introductions later at The Eagle.

The brunch was filled with amazing people, but one conversation stood out. I met a woman named Cassie, and we bonded instantly over drag nights at nudist gatherings. I mentioned that I’d worn dresses once owned by soap legends Susan Lucci (All My Children) and Melody Thomas Scott (The Young and the Restless). Her eyes lit up. She was a longtime CBS soap fan. When she said her favorite was Guiding Light, I may have squealed. Naturally, I told her about Misguided, handed her my card, and encouraged her to check it out. It was such a simple, joyful exchange, proof that soap fans really are everywhere, even in leather.

From there, we walked to The Eagle for the 35th annual Titleholder Introductions, an incredible sight: so many leaders from around the world gathered in one space. Later, when I saw the group photos, I realized I’d tucked myself in the back or to the side, as I often do. At 5'7", I blend in easily, but it hit me that I need to give myself permission to be seen. We all do. Every one of us deserves to stand in our power and take up space.

And then came the main event, the Folsom Street Fair itself. This year it seemed even bigger: more streets, more vendors, more people. Maybe it’s age, or maybe just where I am in life now, but massive crowds aren’t my thing anymore. When movement turns into a shuffle and you’re being pushed from all sides, the fun starts to fade. That’s my only critique. The flip side, of course, is that it’s incredible to see so many people celebrating and supporting the leather, kink, and fetish community.

Walking to brunch earlier that morning, in my boots, leather shirt, pants, and title vest, I was stopped by an older woman also dressed in leather. The instant recognition was there, the unspoken sense of family. We smiled at each other. “It’s so good to see leather family on the street,” she said, then glanced at the tag around my neck and teased, “You little slut!” We both laughed, hugged, and went our separate ways.

“Happy Folsom!” I called after her, grinning the rest of the day.

That moment summed up everything I love about the weekend. I was seen, embraced, and loved for exactly who I am, by a stranger on the street. That’s what Folsom is about for me.