Featuring:

About Martin Dingman
"A man's life is nothing more than the pursuit of stories worth telling small children." That is why in days past our fathers mounted up and rode to the end of the world, in search of new lands, new wealth, and new stories. Some returned with sacks of gold. Others were never heard from again. Only their horses and saddles returned. Curiously, we found that even those possessions revealed their former owner’s story imbedded in the leather. At Martin Dingman this story is retold in every wallet, belt strap and shoe. It does not begin with raw materials, but with the ideals that have been Martin's for a lifetime, ideals that express themselves in every stitch on every piece. Some have assumed that Martin Dingman is not a real person, that his name is nothing more than four syllables pasted together to sell a product. On most days we find Martin winding along a black, asphalt ribbon to his studio in the foothills of the Ozark Mountains. And we wonder ... Doesn't a man who spends his day creating magnificent leather goods belong in New York, Paris, or even Milan? Possibly. But a man has to go where his story takes him, and Martin's story has always carried him home to his wife, to his children and to his friends.

In 1985, after driving the entire country, launching the upstart Rainbow Neckwear, Martin began a second venture, this time in leather goods. During the next five years he built a leather accessory business for an internationally recognized American brand. However, five years of corporate bureaucracy reawakened Martin's hunger for a "pure," product-driven business, and his thirst for creating the best, rather than pacifying accountants. In July 1990, Martin Dingman Leathergoods was born. Since that time Martin has continued to travel the world, relentlessly in search of premier skins and refined hardware to build his handmade collections. He is committed to nothing less. If selling the finest means selling less, then Martin's ultimate goal is to sell one piece so fine, that when the man who originally owned it has finally gone, his son can merely hold it and feel his father's presence. And the story begins again.

Martin Dingman Website