Pull up a chair. Let me give you a peek behind the My Japan indigo bandana.

Ten years of wandering Japan. A decade of getting lost on purpose. Every mark on this bandana comes from somewhere real — volcanoes, motorcycles, denim mills, tattoo needles, samurai ghosts, and so much more. This isn't a print I dreamed up at a desk. It's my Japan, the real one, drawn into indigo.

A decade of getting lost on purpose

For ten years I've crossed the Pacific again and again and let Japan take me wherever it wanted. The factories. The mountain roads. The back-alley bars and the ancient shrines. Friendships that turned into family. This bandana is everything that decade put on me, pressed into one square of cloth.

A living map you can hold

Look close and the whole thing reads like a map — a hand-drawn map of a life. The indigo cotton moves in the light and the artwork unfolds as you turn it: every corner another place, another night, another mile. It captures the beauty and the contradictions of Japan all at once — sacred and neon, ancient and underground.

Every mark comes from somewhere real

Ride down into Kyushu and you'll find its motorcycle culture in here, and my friend BJ, the bike builder in Oita. There's the needle of Horitoshi I in Tokyo, the master who's tattooed me. There's the denim of Okayama, where we make our jeans, and the leather craft of Himeji. Ancient shrines and samurai history. Mountains and volcanoes. War memorials that stop you cold. Neon cityscapes, love hotels glowing in the rain, and the underground culture you only find when you're lost enough to stumble into it. Every one of those marks is a real place I've been, a real person I know, a real night I lived.

Real Japanese indigo, made 100% in Japan

It had to be made where it came from. The My Japan bandana is real indigo — the art produced in Japan, the organic cotton produced in Japan, and the whole thing made 100% in Japan. Like all real indigo, it only deepens and softens the more you carry it. Wear it around your neck, in your back pocket, tied to your bag on the next ride. It's a piece of my Japan you get to carry into yours.

Wind in the indigo.
Japan in the weave.
America in the miles.
Jean jacket.
Cowboy jeans.
A long way from Okayama.
A long way from where this started.
The dream still moving.
The horizon still winning.

at the summit of a Malibu canyon overlooking the endless Pacific Ocean, head-to-toe in Black Bear Brand deep indigo denim, the ONE Jean Jacket and Cowboy Jeans glowing in the California sun. Ocean breeze moves through the fabric as I stand above the coastline, surrounded by sky, cliffs, and horizon. the rich indigo tones, craftsmanship, the collision of Japanese denim tradition and American freedom. a life... chasing adventure, craftsmanship, and impossible dreams. denim, ocean, sun, this is exactly where I belong

Sun-blasted denim.
Pacific to the right.
Southbound and gone.
I killed the motor.
Wind. Salt. Heaven.
A life they said couldn't happen.
Mine anyway.
The ocean didn't care.
Neither did I.
Fuck the world.
Kick. Spark.
Gone again
Ride down California's legendary Pacific Coast Highway. In the sun-washed Black Bear Brand selvedge denim jean jacket... ridin south with the Pacific Ocean stretching endlessly beside me. Golden sunlight pours across the coast, crashing waves, and the 1948 Panhead scootin on one of the most beautiful roads on earth. Pause, a moment, the ocean, wind, salt air, freedom, and gratitude. Then off, back to life and the journey continues south. American craftsmanship, rugged style, luxury denim, vintage motorcycles, and the pursuit of a life lived entirely on your own terms.

join me… as I dive into a little of what’s behind the 2nd generation of the Black Bear Brand ONE Jean Jackets… SHOP the new jean jackets

Two of the finest denim jackets in the world, side by side. The Black Bear Brand ONE Jean Jacket Gen-2 and the Sun Washed ONE Jean Jacket Gen-2, both crafted from exceptional Okayama, Japan selvage denim. Join Josh as he reveals the incredible texture, rich indigo tones, natural fading, and his obsessive and attention to detail. One jacket is untouched and ready for the journey. The other looks like it has already crossed deserts, mountains, and decades of hard living. A masterclass in denim craftsmanship, heritage style, and the beauty of garments built to become better with age.

showcasing the Black Bear Brand ONE Jean Jacket Gen-2 and the Sun Washed ONE Jean Jacket Gen-2. Rich Okayama, Japan selvage denim fills the frame as the camera moves across the jackets, revealing texture, character, and craftsmanship. Deep indigo contrasts with naturally sun-faded blues, highlighting two different expressions of the same design. Timeless American style meets Japanese craftsmanship in a denim jacket built for years of wear, adventure, and a life well lived. shop the new jean jackets

the jacket!

Dust. Speed. Bad decisions and good stories.
I dragged an old Leathertogs jacket out of the dark and stared at it too long. Long enough to start hearing things. Long enough to wonder what deserved saving and what deserved leaving behind.
So we built it again.
Wild horsehide. Custom-made with Horween. Heavy enough to feel permanent. Vintage Talon zippers reborn. Brass studs poured just for this thing. Every detail argued over. Every line questioned.
Some of the old jacket survived the journey.
Some of it didn't.
That's the job.

Creative Director, adventurer, and designer Josh Sirlin takes viewers deep into the Black Bear Brand Leathertogs jacket, sharing the story behind the resurrection of a rare 1930s American motorcycle jacket. Close-up cinematic footage reveals the rich custom Horween horsehide leather, vintage-inspired Talon zippers, custom-poured brass studs, and carefully considered construction details. Josh handles the jacket, pointing out elements preserved from the original 1933 design and explaining the choices made to adapt it for modern wear. The video moves between intimate details of the materials and Josh's firsthand insights into the history, craftsmanship, and relentless pursuit of authenticity behind bringing the Leathertogs back to life.

the boro collection

dive into the Boro Lounge Suit collection in a cinematic video filled with rare Japanese craftsmanship, indigo boro textiles, vintage-inspired tailoring, and obsessive handmade details. Close-up shots reveal layered patchwork, sashiko stitching, worn textures, and the soul of traditional Japanese repair culture transformed into luxury fashion. Josh speaks about the history of boro, the making of the collection in Japan, and the long process behind every garment. Raw Americana collides with old-world Japan in a dreamlike film full of texture, movement, craftsmanship, and timeless style.

The Jackets!

join me for a little deeper look into the new Black Bear Brand Ivory Roughout Chore Coat, a glimpse into the why, some fun details and...
the leather, design elements, the feeling of it all.

_____________

close-up shots reveal the wild texture of the Horween roughout leather, soft ivory nap, hardware, stitching, pockets, cuffs, and up close of the hide.
rugged, luxury, lived-in. Americana atmosphere, motorcycles, open road energy, details, and cinematic imagery surround the piece as Josh shares a deeper glimpse into the inspiration behind the coat and the feeling it was built to carry.

the Pacific chewing at itself below me.
the coast twisting like a hallucination.
I keep riding cause stopping means waking up.
the RoughOut Chore Coat... something between a dream and a roadside accident.

the roughout chores.
dust drunk. half holy.
his & her against the whole collapsing circus.
snow caps twitching out west like dead prophets.
the highway peeling open behind us.
legs locked around me.
I can feel her smile before I feel my own thoughts.
a beautiful hallucination chewing through god and chrome.
riding straight into it.

NYC drifting somewhere between a dream and 1969
Velvet Underground echoing through the walls like a ghost refusing death.
then her.
rose corduroy. lavender pearl snaps. fur vest.
Black Bear Brand WOMAN.
not walking. floating.
like the city imagined something too beautiful to keep.
- josh

Ten years evaporated. Road blur. Loom thunder.
Coast, mountains, wrong turns that stuck.
Indigo in the skin. Won’t wash out.
Machines barking. Men steady. No talk.
I went in for fabric. Came out… different.
Black Bear Brand. The jeans.
Not clean. Not neat. Earned.
You feel it. Or it leaves you.

Nine years. Maybe more. Hard to say when you’re inside it.
My LEATHERTOGS, commandeered. Not borrowed. Took it.
A ghost from before the war. Perfect. Untouchable.
Cut. Stripped. Kept what hit. Cut what didn’t. No sentiment. No brakes.
Instinct and bad decisions that turned out right.
Brass. Poured like it mattered. Talon zippers. Old blood. Still biting.
Horween leather… years of fighting that hide until it broke my way.
Thing in my head. Louder than anything else.
Now it’s here.
1933. Pre-war. Mine.

I commandeered the LEATHERTOGS TM nearly 9 years ago… and here we finally are with the first tribute to the pre-war KING of moto leather jackets… Leathertogs!
This is my design… I’ve taken what I love from the original and cut away anything I didn't want/need! No stops, no fucks given to what it would take to get exactly what I wanted, from custom hand poured brass studs to custom vintage Talon Zippers and the leather that has taken a wild fucking amount of time to fine tune with Horween! Here’s my Leathertogs 1933 pre-war moto jacket!

- joshj

It began with a slab of rescued timber and a man who refuses shortcuts.
John Dill took a tree meant to disappear and gave it time, discipline, and purpose. What emerged was not just a table, but a foundation. A single, living surface where Black Bear Brand found its weight, its voice, and its beginning.

The Peninsula Tokyo. First stop. Always. The car door opens. Quiet precision. A bow. A smile. Not forced. Light everywhere. Small, enough to brighten the day. Familiar. Like I never left.

My room waits. Shitsurae. Everything in its place. Nothing extra. Nothing missing. Season in the air. In the flowers. In the space between objects. Arranged for me. Or maybe I learned how to see it. Simplicity. Cut clean. Noise gone. Clarity like cold air through an open window. Mind sharpens. Pulse slows. The room breathes. I follow.

Outside, Tokyo burns. Neon. Movement. Want. Inside, purpose. Collision point. The place I disappear just long enough to come back sharper.

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Two years ago. Same room. Same quiet. An idea. It did not ask permission. It just showed up. Violent. Beautiful. Incomplete. Boro. I saw it before it existed. A storm of fabric. History stitched into itself. Damage celebrated. I chased it. Flights to Okayama. One day. Every trip. Sunrise in the mills. Indigo under fingernails. Old men with hands that know more than books ever will. Words like anchors. Wabi-sabi. Kodawari. Shokunin. Sashiko. Laws.

A Shokunin does not repair to hide. He repairs to honor. Every stitch a scar. Every scar truth. Time becomes material. I built it piece by piece. Obsessed. Relentless. No compromise. And now it is here. In my hands. Finished two days ago. Delivered to the place it was born as a thought. Full circle feels too clean. This is something else. Heavier. Real. Years inside it. Today is Boro.

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The work leaves me still. I move through the quiet of the hotel. The rhythm of service, the precision of gestures, the soft light. And the food. Morning, lobby, same table. Coffee. Precision. Silence not empty. Afternoon, matcha. Slow. Green. Grounding. Room service when the world is loud. Dinner high above it all. The city glows beneath me. You could stay here forever. Everything comes to you.

Art is everywhere. Not loud. Not begging. Waiting. Open your eyes or stop moving. The lobby shifts with the season. Sakura. Cherry blossom. Feel it before you understand. Spring but fragile. Floor to ceiling. Shitsurae again. Everything intentional. Everything breathing. I sit. I work. I stop. I exist. Like a gallery with no walls. Patterns form.

The staff. Same precision for all. Standard. But time creates something else. A glance. A slight shift. Recognition without announcement. Nothing said. Everything understood. I do not explain myself. Rare.

The staff. Same precision for all. Standard. But time creates something else. A glance. A slight shift. Recognition without announcement. Nothing said. Everything understood. I do not explain myself. Rare.

Life moves fast. Design. Travel. Roads that do not end. I make what I believe. Or not at all.

It is time. Bags packed. The plane waits. The city stretches below me. Tokyo burns. The neon, the streets, the people. I carry it all with me. Good bye. I am leaving, but I will be back. I will return. Thank you, Peninsula Tokyo. Thank you, Japan. I will see you soon. Until then, I go, I move, I chase what comes next, but this place will wait for me. Always.

- josh

engines hum. tires bite the road. spring smells like wet stone and old forests. hands scarred, eyes sharp. wind in our teeth. mountains rise. trees swallow everything. ghosts of a thousand years stare from moss and stone. ride. climb. disappear.
- josh

far from the neon noise and the machinery of men.
mountains rise. forests swallow the road.
air changes out here, clean, pure, quiet.
ancient breathing between the trees.
a path appears. just there.
stone steps carved by hands long turned to dust.
I climb. one step. another. a thousand..
ancient statues watch the trail. moss-covered faces.
buddhas. guardians. forgotten gods.
trees stretch toward the sky.
torii gates. old temples hiding between the trunks.
wind moving through the branches like whispers.
I climb. the world below disappears.
it opens.
a temple clinging to the side of the mountain.
impossible and perfect.
I sit. silence.
wind through the trees. mountain breathing.
something taps my shoulder. buddha... the wind... the mountain saying hello.
I'm not alone.
today...
- josh

Years now. Long roads, strange mornings. Coast breathing salt, volcanoes sleeping, mountains watching. Motorcycle under me. 
Indigo everywhere. Fabric. Denim. Hands that know how to make things right.
Ghosts. Samurai bones. Tattoo ink. Shrines in the forest where the air goes quiet and the world slows down.
Cities, steel, neon and chaos. Skyscrapers clawing the sky.
Colliding. Opposites.
Here.
A peek into my Japan.

Winter biting. Storm howling.
Wet to the bone. Nearly broken.
I’m at peace.
Mother Nature, my guide.
My love.
The one that tests me.
Pulls me to live.
To search.
To go farther than sense.
A moment.
Catch my breath.
Take it in.
The inside storm slows.
The noise thins.
I’m here.
I’m alive.

faded. scarred. alive.
miles trapped in the seams.
ghosts in the whiskers.

a peek into the mind of BLACK BEAR BRAND!
meaning in everything... or nothing.
my head, a storm.
a thin break in the sky.
calm inside the chaos.
I dream faster than I live.
torn between stillness and speed...
where I exist.
Black Bear Brand is how I let it out.
wild lambskin. horsehide.
my mind, made into a vest.
Here it is.