Mike Giordano, the manager of the Frying Pan Ranch, in Texas, is obsessed with pockets. Nearly four years ago, as an intern on the Monte Prieto Ranch in New Mexico, he sewed his first pocket onto a pair of leather chaps. He needed a place to store his phone horseback, where it could be easily reached to record data or take a photo, yet still be protected against the elements. This impulse, to find a practical solution and refine his gear, stems from his military background. Before coming to the MP, Mike served in the 75th Ranger Regiment of the United States Army, where he had an extensive kit – sometimes carrying as many as 50 pieces of equipment at any given time – and he became fascinated with strategic design and ease of use. Weight, dimension, and yes, pockets, were integral to his performance in the field. At the MP, he was instantly drawn to Southwestern-style cowboy gear – big taco hats, springy nylon rope, and flashy batwing chaps – that was developed to withstand the unique conditions of the high-desert. Moving quickly from intern to apprentice to ranch manager, Mike began to do leather work on the side as a way to repair, tweak, and design pieces that would make him, as he put it, “more efficient in the pasture.”

Mike’s first large-scale leather project was a pair of batwing chaps, which he made to protect himself against the endless patches of mesquite that dot the Frying Pan Ranch, where he moved in 2021. Batwing chaps are a full-length leather legging, typically made from a thick yet pliable hide, with a distinctive wing shape at the bottom. The landscape of the FP is characterized by low-lying hills covered in dense brush, so having an added layer of protection when riding is key. Mike bought a scrap hide and four tools from a local shop in Amarillo, and after some initial measuring and sketching, traced his pattern. The hardest part, he soon realized, was ensuring a custom fit. He wanted to avoid excess weight or gapping, which was the main problem with his first pair. “They felt like running with weights on,” Mike said. Neither too tight nor too roomy, chaps should hug your thighs comfortably. Once a pattern is cut, stitching begins, followed by embellishment of all sorts: tooling, fringe, yokes, and conchos. After he finished his first pair, Mike was hooked. The freedom to customize and alter his own kit gave him a self-sufficiency and creative outlet he did not have as a ranger.  

A ranger’s kit functions as a shadow limb. It requires a keen physical awareness on the part of the ranger to know which pocket holds the ammo and which pouch holds the flare. The specificity of equipment and placement is akin to the gear of a cowboy: choosing the right rope for the given terrain or the appropriate bridle set-up for a certain horse. Drawing parallels between these worlds energized Mike and informed his chap designs. He’s branched out to a variety of leather projects, from a medicine bottle pouch – a doctoring toolkit which attaches to his saddle just behind the cantle (with stitches, a prolapse kit, needles, paint, etc.) – and other pieces of tack, like headstalls and belts. But it’s the chaps that are his “number one thing,” the piece of gear he returns to again and again.

Mike has made fifteen pairs of chaps since moving to the FP Ranch, all of which have pockets. He repeats the batwing style each time but alters the pattern. With each pair, Mike is trying to achieve a more stream-lined effect by paying attention to the wing portion of the chap. (If the leather hugs his calf just so, it allows the bottom portion of the chap to sit farther forward, creating a distinctive “wing” shape.) “My goal is to be able to sprint in my chaps while working cattle,” Mike said. If someone ropes a calf, and he needs to tail it down, he wants to feel unencumbered. Having an aerodynamic wing shape, one that can withstand the relentless wind on the plains, yet has a lightweight feel, is the balance he’s looking for. Any embellishment is subsidiary to the fit. He prefers no tooling, a medium-length fringe, and three conchos on each leg. All his stitching is done by hand in a classic buckstitch. One of the oldest methods of connecting two pieces of leather together, the buckstitch resembles a dotted yellow line on a highway. Wide and evenly spaced, it’s seen as durable and timeless. “There is something cool in knowing people have been doing this for hundreds of years,” Mike said. “And it’s solid. It just takes a little bit more time.”