On Smokeout

 OR Where Are the Youngins?

I have very complicated feelings towards an event that at one point was a fascination of mine. I knew about it before I could even legally drive, and wanted so badly to attend someday. It had everything I could hope for: cigars, leather, big hairy men, a weekend celebrating more masculine pursuits. It was alluring for a young, skinny, somewhat nerdy shut-in. In 2023 I got that chance, and, well, I left somehow more lost than I was upon arrival, with a prolonged downward spiral playing out for at bare minimum weeks; it followed me from my hotel room to the airport and back home. But why?

Let’s first check a bit of my ego at the door: expectations are the thieves of joy. I’ll admit I was hoping to get at least a bit of action in Vegas that weekend, and I certainly got a bit, including with a man that was both a crush of mine for the longest time and the first Leatherman I ever talked to. But events like these aren’t just about the sort of mischief one can get up to with other horny men, there’s a social component, meeting new people and rekindling old connections over wisps of smoke. If you were to ask most regular attendees of Smokeout, they would probably agree with that analysis. For all of the play that surely happens throughout the event, you’ll find just as much casual conversation and relaxation. And make no mistake, I was definitely looking forward to that too, meeting new people and also finally seeing folks I had only seen photos of or talked to online. 

Of course this is when things seemed to fall apart for me. 

Save for whatever currently unchangeable physical characteristics I have, I have a deadly combination of paralyzing shyness (which especially flares up when surrounded by men I’m attracted to) and a collar around my neck. This can make events like these incredibly difficult for a few reasons. Starting with the latter a collar can sometimes (not always, as everyone's approach to protocol is different) act as a barrier for potential engagement for those that see it and understand what it means, especially if the collared individual is unaccompanied. Some folks don’t want to step on any toes, and that is perfectly acceptable. But moving on to something a little more universal I’m never quick to initiate conversation or social interaction, at least outright, opting for a halfway house between the so-called “lost art” of cruising, and the sort of glances you’d give to someone as they pass you on the street, unintentionally innocuous as if I’m unsure as to whether or not I’m even worthy of engaging them in the first place. This can lead to a few different outcomes. Best case scenario is that the signs are read, the feelings are mutual, and more can come. By contrast in what are the two more common outcomes of equal “worse case” (although I’m sure one could make an argument for one being worse than the other) is that the signals are read but rejected, or they simply do not pick up on them at all. And while I’m often not one to be easy on myself often I’d venture to guess that it’s often rejection rather than misinterpretation, especially around men that are likely well traveled in the sort of subtle tells we give one another. Yet there I was, feeling completely lost in a sea of “brotherhood” that I had thought I was meant for for the better part of a decade, and feeling very out of place, hopelessly alone. So what happened?

But before I answer that, allow me to recall what has served as a sort of “inspiration” for this article. 

In the months leading up to Smokeout 2024 the official event group chat was buzzing as it usually does. And while I’m no longer in that thread I do remember at some point two instances of younger men being brought up in conversation: in one, a question posed by a member saying a “younger bear” they know feels he wouldn’t fit in, and a question as to whether it seems that the crowd isn’t attracting many younger guys, and if so, why. As I’ve mentioned before Smokeout is an ideal event for me on paper, and the many photos shared of this event only strengthened that feeling of belonging I felt before boarding the plane to Vegas. So, again, I must ask, what happened?

I think I didn’t pay close enough attention to the visual fine print. 

As a preemptive form of self defense, I’m not going to accuse Smokeout of being cliquey. At least, not uniquely so. I don’t think it would be bad form to say that a lot of events have their “groups,” so to speak, so it’s not a problem specific to this one. Also, the event organizers were incredible to me as both an attendee and a bootblack. Working for the event was a pleasure and I was treated very well. But I don’t believe that necessarily absolves the following criticism. Smokeout, not just as an event but as an idea, a brand, perhaps, has a highly refined identity that makes it unique in comparison to other Leather events. Hopefully through careful wordsmithing this “criticism” is more observational than critical. There is no denying that Smokeout attracts a very particular crowd. This isn’t just evident in the pages they’ve dedicated to listing the names, faces, and tenures of their attendees, but also in their marketing, specifically in the shirts they’ve designed and printed over the 20 years they’ve been hosting the event. Big, hairy, and older. Sure, there’s plenty of folks who go to Smokeout that may be built more like a tandem bicycle than a Mack truck but they still nestle in perfectly to the average age of a Smokeout attendee. Hell, at least according to their site 2025 is perhaps the first year that an individual who probably wouldn’t be automatically clocked as a “bear” for a Bear Event is featured in the design. 

Oh, did I say Bear Event out loud?

I have heard “Smokeout is a Bear Event” enough times in my post-event rumination that it isn’t just wingeing from baby twinks that got no sex; in fact, it came most often from men who would fit right in. And this is where I should be charitable and reflect on the opposing perspective that one could glean from my observation. I will warn you, dear reader, that the following analysis may be some of my shoddiest work in the pursuit of devil's advocacy, but please bear with me (heh.) A lot of events have grown significantly in scope, and as a result the crowds that they attract have diversified. Leather events will have more than just leather now: rubber, pups (and other pets,) neoprene, sportswear, even leather itself to an extent, our events are more diverse than ever. But this can lead to reflections of general social attitudes on attraction, even in spaces that society at large would possibly call “taboo.” It’s one of the reasons Bear exists as a concept, to give larger folks a space to be recognized and loved. 

But Smokeout isn’t advertised as a Bear Event, at least, not explicitly. On their website, they do acknowledge Bears as a group they cater to, but they aren’t top billing, slotting just above “Friends From All Over The World.” The problem is that much to the chagrin of the hypermasculine, most men don’t break out into the bars all burly and hairy. And while, yes, vaping is becoming increasingly more and more common, perhaps I’m tooting my own horn too much when I say that my very existence proves the idea that “younger people just aren’t into smoke fetishism” can only be true if you are not actively seeking them out. And yet, I was one of those younger people, and was for the most part (because again, there were certainly folks that made positive impacts on me over the weekend) more ghost than attendee. I tried putting myself out there, making sure I got involved, but instead I got conversation with the quality and depth of a Temu kiddie pool, comments on my propensity to reply to people’s tweets often while never showing my face (mere months after I went through hell involving printed out screenshots of my Twitter, which the individual in question was aware of,) and being actively cockblocked mid conversation.

I’ve thought about going back, I really have, and I’ve been asked if it was in my plans by those I met that year and other smoke and Leather folk I’ve met since. Truthfully, I don’t know, because while as stated before Smokeout isn’t uniquely cliquey, I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something beyond just “not being social enough,” or “you just need to put yourself out there more.” I know I’m likely wrong and engaging in my common practice of “being way too damn hard on myself because of my godforsaken utter lack of perspective,” but I can’t deny the way I felt throughout the weekend, even with the moments in between that, to those reading that were involved, truly meant a lot. 

Guess I’m still in the rushing stage for the Leather Fraternity, aren’t I?