The Fur Merchant
One man, one craft, one shop. For over half a century, he’s quietly held court over Denver’s last fur and leather repair business — and on this particular day, I had the good fortune to meet him.
He led me inside, cigar in hand. The shop was a time capsule.
I first saw him outside, leaning back in a worn chair with a cigar in hand — the kind of moment you don’t plan for, but instantly recognize. I was on my way to check out a gallery when I passed by his shop. Something about him — the hat, the stillness, the face — stopped me. I doubled back and asked if I could take his portrait.
He seemed a little surprised, but not bothered. We talked for fifteen minutes. He told me he was from Hungary, 89 years old, and still busy with work. His specialty is fur and leather — he’s been doing it for decades and claims, without arrogance, to be the best in town. His shop is also his home. And while he still rides his bike, what he really enjoys are cool days and a good cigar out front.
After our conversation, he invited me inside. It was like walking into a time capsule — mannequins worn smooth, a chandelier hanging overhead, and tools with real weight to them. I asked if I could photograph him in his space. He nodded and walked to the table where he works most, cigar still between his fingers.
A week later, I brought him a couple of prints. He thanked me and then pulled out a small box to show me something — antique pipes he’d saved from Hungary. As a boy, he used to watch the older men in his village gather with their pipes, smoke curling around their stories. It’s a scene he can still picture clearly, even now.
He still keeps a pipe close by.
I’ll need to return and photograph him again — this time with those pipes.
