Mister B

Super friendly service! Very high-quality materials!

Always exceptional. Handsome staff. And always knowledgeable.

Very friendly staff, excellent but expensive products.

It's not what it used to be. It looks like a teahouse, with the owner's friends dropping by and half-sitting on the counter, playing with their phones. The other vendor (with a beard), who isn't at all friendly, is eating at the counter, and the whole place stinks. The smell of leather and rubber is then mixed into something foul. Nothing for Darklands in stock. They say it wasn't delivered on time, yes, that was the case last year as well. Maybe you should change your purchasing policy. Amsterdam would be much better and cleaner then. This place is on the decline and heading straight for ruin. It's a shame it could have been run much better by people with passion, not by people who like to keep slaves and think the store is also a restaurant.

Very nice shop with a wide selection and friendly explanation and service

Great service, great guys running the store.

Great shop with anything you need! Staff is very friendly and helpful

“The scent of rubber and redemption.” We arrived at Falconplein, where the air hung heavy with rain and anticipation. Els — manic, gleaming in her Matthias Reim coat — shouted at the mere sight of the facade: “Liberation begins here, Harm!” Harm looked at her with that typical look of someone who has just found a new favorite on Grindr. He knew it. This wasn't a shop. This was a confessional of leather and latex. Inside, the world glided over in sheer black. The salesman spoke softly, almost priestly. Els stroked a harness as if it were a relic, while in the mirror I saw myself disappearing into a sea of ​​rubber and light. Harm mumbled something about “Gerard Reve would have died happily here.” I nodded — for that was exactly the feeling. Everything exuded craftsmanship. The belts, the trousers, the smell of real leather, the same honesty I know from Johnny’s Vintage and Leathers on Etsy, but turned up the volume to 11. Nothing plastic, nothing half-baked. Just pure passion in material form. When we stepped outside, it started to drizzle. Els spun around on the street and shouted: “This is my symphony!” Harm took a photo of the shop window; I smiled. Sometimes you don't have to buy anything to take something home.

Best Mr B!