A first solo trip to Morzine becomes something more — a chance to rewrite old memories and begin a new chapter with Roarsome, where your childhood meets my dreams.

We’ve just come back from the mountains. Honestly… a trip I’ll never forget.

Morzine. A place that feels less like a town, and more like a playground. The funny thing is, we’ve actually been here before.
You were two. Your first time in the snow. Your first time on skis.

But that version of the trip feels very distant.

Your mum was very unwell at the time and if I’m honest… I think I’ve tucked most of it away somewhere. A protection thing, maybe.

So this trip felt like something else.

A chance for you and me to rewrite the story, together.

The place itself is magic.

Snow-capped in winter. Sun-soaked in summer. A backdrop for everything you can dream up. Skiing, snowboarding, speed racing, base jumping, mountain biking, hiking, drift racing…it goes on.

Life isn’t scheduled there…it’s just lived.

This was our first solo trip together overseas. On a plane. Through an airport. Into somewhere new.

No noise. No negotiation. No background voices. Just us, figuring it out as we went.

I’m not sure I’m supposed to say this…but it did feel simple. Easy, even.

Not because your mum isn’t incredible, she is. But because there’s something about it just being us that brings a kind of clarity. We move quicker. We understand each other faster. We had it on LOCK..

Watching you cruise through the airport, sat on my suitcase, pink Uggs swinging…people smiling as we passed. I think, for a moment, you made me look like a really really good dad. 

I remember seeing dads run a similar drill to this when I was much younger. I would notice it and start to hope one day that would be me.  

Well, Leo - it’s me, it’s you and me!

The reason behind our trip to Morzine…

I started writing about us a year ago. Trying to make sense of everything we’ve been through as a family. Your mum had shared her side of the story, but I felt there was something in mine too. So I’ve been working on a children's book, which I actually see as a series (at least 4).

A quieter perspective. A father’s lens. Some teachings to pass forward to other mums and dads.

Somewhere between the pages, between sketches and notes and half-formed ideas…this character appeared.

And now, he exists in the real world. Or at least he will do, come this October…

A new character is joining the family at Roarsome, inspired by YOU. 

At four years old, that’s no small thing. To have something built around your spirit, your energy, your way of being.

The **** is a symbol of strength. But not the loud kind.

Quiet strength. Steady strength. The kind that doesn’t need to prove anything.

And watching you out there in the snow…I realised something;

You don’t have to grow into this character. You already are it.

There was something else I felt up there on the mountain though.

A tension. 

On one hand, I knew how special this opportunity was. We were there to create something, to document, to begin telling our story, our way. And if we do it right, this could really last. This could be a legacy piece for us.

The sunlight, the white mountains, you in the middle of it all wearing your new character outfits…it was perfect. 

But on the other hand…

You’re four.

It was your second time on skis. Your first time in front of a camera that wasn’t mine. Surrounded by kids who didn’t even speak your language. And I found myself asking, 

How much do I push? How much do I guide…and when do I just let you be?

I caught myself slipping, just for a moment.

Looking around at the local kids, same age as you, flying down the slopes like it was second nature.

And I felt it. That quiet flicker of comparison. A bit of pressure. A bit of urgency. But then I realised something. This is their normal. They don’t come here for a holiday. They grow up in it.

No school on Wednesdays, so they’re on the mountain. Not throwing snowballs like we might have done, but building jumps, skiing lines, ripping through ski parks.

They move differently. Freedom comes early. Independence comes early. Their ability to do these things comes early. 

But, instead of feeling behind…I felt clear.

I don’t need you to match them. I just want to give you access to a life that feels like that. Even in small pieces.

I’ve been chewing your mum's ear off since we came home about building towards a life where you can have the triple threat: - City life in London, Mountain life in Morzine, Beach life in Cornwall. Everything we do now is ultimately pushing towards that end goal.  

The biggest reminder came from the people we were there with.

The dads behind the brand at Roarsome, co-founders Ed and Will. Both dads to boys the same age as you. Very present, very loving dads, a real representation of what I think modern masculinity looks like. Not the Manosphere - I’ll write to you about this next week…

Watching Ed and Will interact with you and the other children grounded me. They had patience. They were calm, even though they had a shot list to hit, different looks to shoot, and various accessories to include. They maintained a very healthy perspective, and in turn, the children were free to just have fun.

They weren’t chasing perfect. They were protecting something far more important. The feeling, the laughter, the freedom, the messy, brilliant moments that don’t need directing.

It reminded me, quickly, what matters most.

If you’re smiling…we’ve already got it right.

We’ll share more from this trip over time. As we move towards the OFFICIAL LAUNCH this winter. More moments. More memories. More pieces of something that, I think, is only just beginning.

Always,

P.s for readers of Letters To Leo, you will have a UNIQUE DISCOUNT CODE for Leo’s new collection launching in October. So if you’re going skiing this Christmas with the kids, this could be the perfect gift idea.