Wearing my rubber gear at Starbucks
Story by: Kevin Clarke
Photography by: Bizarrobear
October 18, 2020
The first time I saw a pic of someone out in public in heavy rubber gear—and I don’t mean a raincoat and wellies on a rainy day—was on Tumblr about 10 years ago. This guy was at a café in a full black rubber Loitokari drysuit which, to me, is the ultimate heavy rubber dive suit: the thick, smooth, black rubber encases the diver from head to toe.
The guy on Tumblr was holding his coffee with the attached three-finger rubber gloves. Imagining him paying his bill with those gloves on made me excited, jealous, and very curious. I always associated my heavy rubber fetish with sex so to see this guy out in public wearing something so horny, in a place as chaste as a coffee shop, got my head spinning and my cock hard. I needed to know who this was, what he was about, and how he had found the courage to do it so that I could do the same.
He was based in Europe, of course. The Europeans were always so bold and daring to me. It was a bit far from me in Chicago, though, so I started following him on Tumblr.
WHEN I TOLD MY THERAPIST THAT IT WAS IMPORTANT FOR ME TO BE OUT IN PUBLIC IN MY GEAR, HE ASKED, “WHAT’S STOPPING YOU?”
There were other photos: him in a red and black Viking drysuit walking down a busy street, or in several layers of raingear and a pair of waders on a park bench, with a gasmask (before COVID lockdowns, when gasmasks weren’t as fashionable). All of this not only turned me on, but it made me wonder why I couldn’t do the same. I had a lot of rubber gear, raingear, drysuits, work gear, waders, wellies, gloves, and masks. I was proud of all of it, so why couldn’t I wear it outside too, instead of just in a playroom?
When I told my therapist that it was important for me to be out in public in my gear, he asked, “What’s stopping you?” When I replied that I thought people would think I was abnormal or weird, he said, “First of all, people are so busy that they don’t even see it or even care. Secondly, if you’re going to put thoughts into other people’s heads, futile to begin with, put positive thoughts in their heads: ‘That’s awesome that he’s in waders in a shop,’ or ‘Wish I had gear like that.’”
I tried it out for the first time with a walk along Chicago’s lakefront in hip boots. It was a bright summer Saturday. I drove down to Lake Michigan with a favorite pair of waders in my trunk. I parked and sat, watching people jogging by, walking their dogs, and appreciating the beautiful day. I was so nervous I almost chickened out several times, but I remembered what my therapist had said.
Soon, I was sitting on the edge of my trunk, pulling on the tall rubber boots that had never been outside of the playroom. I walked in them for almost two hours, back and forth along the paved trail. Not one person commented or looked at what I was wearing. It felt like a milestone.
I posted photos of myself in waders on Tumblr and received positive feedback. That helped even more.
I did that same walk several times after that, but in different pairs of waders. I gained more confidence each time I did it.
A few weeks after wearing my gear down at the beach, I decided to try wearing my hip-high fire boots to Mariano’s, my local grocery store. I folded them down like a fireman, halfway at the knee, and walked into the grocery store. I pushed the cart through the produce section, looking down at my booted feet. They were making loud stomping noises going up and down the aisles. I was so focused on the fact that I was actually wearing my fire boots in the store that I forgot what I’d come to buy. In the end, I just haphazardly grabbed some things and threw them in the cart.
Once again, no one noticed. I did it several more times there and at Target, Home Depot, and Walgreens. Each time it felt less risky.
After a while, I met a boot guy on Recon. His profile and pictures were all about wearing and collecting boots and waders. He lived in Chicago too, about 15 minutes away. I reached out to him and we discovered that we both wanted to wear our boots in public. He had a partner who had no interest in his boot fetish, but he was as intrigued and aroused by these exhibitionst fantasies as I was.
We agreed to go to a movie and dinner together. He wore very tall Texas A&M Cadet boots. He had never worn them to anything other than a fetish event. I was in heavy-duty industrial waders, pulled up to my armpits. We were both terrified and excited, barely speaking on our way to the theater. It was a great feeling to experience being in public in chest waders with another guy who had a similar kink.
NOW, WHEN I PULL ON MY GEAR AND MAKE MY WAY DOWN THE STREET, THE SMELL OF THE RUBBER MIXED WITH MY SWEAT MAKES ME SMILE.
After the movie, we walked to a nearby trendy restaurant known for its authentic Neapolitan pizza and craft cocktails. Sitting down at our table, neither of us could wait to share how great it felt. We had never been so bold.
It took about a year before I was truly comfortable with wearing my gear in public. In the beginning of my journey, I worried that a derogatory comment would send me right back into the gear closet, but people don’t seem to associate my fetish with something sexual. They might just think I’m a workman on a break.
Honestly, even when someone has commented on my gear, it has been kind and positive. But the more I went out in public in my gear, the less I cared about what people thought, positive or negative. Wearing rubber in public is about being comfortable in my own skin (and my second or third skin, depending on how many layers I’m wearing). What’s important is that I’m being my authentic, kinky self. Choose a cliché: life’s too short; I am what I am; be the change you want to see in the world. They all fit.
After posting pictures, first on Tumblr, then on other platforms, I started to receive messages from followers. It wasn’t admiration that compelled me to keep it up, but the notes from guys saying they were inspired by me. I wasn’t the only one: so many fetishists were scared to be seen in their gear in public. They’d ask, “Did anyone see you?,” “What were people’s reactions?,” “Did anyone say anything?” My reply was always, “No one cares.”Now, when I pull on my gear and make my way down the street, the smell of the rubber mixed with my sweat makes me smile. When my heavy boots thud against the pavement, I feel confident and horny. The thick feeling of the rubber layers squeaking as I walk up to the coffee counter makes me feel relaxed and content. When I’m acknowledged by the barista, sometimes with a simple good morning and, occasionally, with a “Grande flat white with one raw sugar?,” I think, This is my happy place.
