Back in 2021, I set out for a week on the backroads of Texas as part of the writing process for a short story I was developing. The trip was an effort to explore the story’s protagonist by inhabiting their journey across the landscapes used as inspiration for the story’s settings. Without getting too deep into the narrative, the central focus was a man abandoning his life, drifting from place to place on a winding journey away from his family and home in an effort to escape hidden traumas and the burden of fatherhood.
Heavy themes? Perhaps. But it created a good excuse to load a bag up with only the essentials that I needed and head on the road, throwing this minimal selection into my truck along with a few CDs and a map to guide the journey. I wanted to get off my phone until I returned home and just enjoy the chance to drive, explore the landscape, let thoughts drift, and write.
The plan was simple. Head south west to the town of Marathon (an 8-hour drive away), then snake my way back over the following days avoiding the interstates as best I could. The journey into my protagonist’s world found me standing in the glow of my headlights beside desert railroad tracks at midnight, walking empty streets in the pale light of dawn, sitting with my thoughts in quiet motel rooms, sipping red eye coffee with bottles of Topo Chico on the side, spreading the map across the hood beside desolate highways, and hiking into the borderlands between Texas and Mexico.
The return journey took me through Langtry, Del Rio, Nordheim, Cuero, Lockhart, and finally home, 35 miles south east of Dallas. Along the way I thought often about the joy of travelling light, with just the bare bones to get me by.
After my last trip out to Far West Texas at the start of 2024, as I thought more about the project that became Border Co., I revisited the idea of travelling light and drafted what I felt were the most essential items for those long stretches across the country. The absolute minimum I could leave home with. That scrawled list included:
Jeans / Belt / T-Shirt / Jacket / Shirt / Boots / Wallet / Notebook / Pen / Toothbrush / Deodorant / Underwear / Sunglasses / Baseball cap / Bag
While there was room for extras, it seemed a good snapshot of the most important elements to pack for a road trip.
As I continued to flush out exactly what I wanted to do with Border Co., the scope of ideas began to stretch beyond simply a writing project. I started to think about using the list as a springboard to connect with friends and other makers to create custom items as part of a capsule collection. Goods for the road. Trusty versions of items on the list that were versatile enough to handle a week road tripping, hikes on the trail, evenings hopping dive bars and dance halls, and the stress of being repeatedly bundled up and thrown into a duffle bag or backpack.
There are plenty of brands out there producing these items already, so why not just buy from them and be done with it? In many cases I do, but from time to time it’s hard to find the exact item you’re looking for.
The list resurfaced around summer last year. I’d taken to searching for a new denim jacket, browsing the many offerings from trusted brands with rich heritages producing this garment. I used to have a vintage Lee 101J that was almost perfect, but a little too cropped, and a great unlined Carhartt Detroit jacket I’d outgrown and sold. Somehow, I wanted something that was a little of both of these garments. Something that fit my needs and that I felt more connection to compared to buying another used or new jacket. As a big fan of the versatility and durability of outdoor clothing, workwear and western wear, living in a rotating wardrobe that mainly consists of these items, I wanted to bring these influences together and explore the meeting point where something new could emerge.
It was here that the idea for the first Border Co. collaboration blossomed.
I’ve been fortunate to meet unique brands and makers during my time in retail, building long-lasting friendships with many of them. It was thanks to this exposure that I’d first met the maker that came to mind for Border Co.’s first item. We struck up a dialogue through email and through a long chain of messages back-and-forth across the Atlantic, slowly brought Border Co.’s first collaboration to life.
As an ongoing thread of this Substack, Border Co. collaborations look to tell stories about and inspired by their makers, their craft, and their product. Amid a retail landscape dense with throwaway items and brands pushing goods purely for profit, there are plenty too that are focused on quality, building slowly, looking at the long-term. It’s these brands and makers I’m drawn to most because of the individuals at their heart.
Referencing The List and looking to develop unique versions of these items, collaborations will only occur when the opportunity arises with the right reasoning and the right maker. They will never be mass manufactured, or made for the sole purpose of making money. They’ll be created for those who see their merit and want to bring a reliable item with a story into their lives to become part of their own narrative. Their sales will be used as a means to support independent makers and generate donations for causes as outlined in the first post I ever wrote - The Crossing: Welcome to Border Co. Importantly, they will be made in the pursuit of connection and community.
The first Border Co. collaboration, now road tested, will be introduced in the coming weeks through posts about its maker and how the design came to be.
I look forward to sharing it with you.
- J. Bowyer