This week’s Twitter controversy started, as they all do, with a viral tweet. A few days ago, @sageyblanco tweeted: “we killing the planet for shein fits …. this is crazy.” Shein, an online fast fashion retailer founded in 2008, is often a target for web users. The company is routinely criticized for its low-quality clothes, murky labor practices, and how they incentivize overconsumption. Last year, the CBC found that some of Shein’s toddler jackets contain 20 times the amount of lead permitted under Canada’s health regulations. For many people, Shein represents the worst of capitalism, so it’s no surprise that @sageyblanco’s tweet quickly went viral (it currently has about 120k likes).

On Twitter, it’s an unwritten rule that any tweet, no matter how innocuous, will elicit criticism as soon as it gains widespread attention. “[We shop at Shein] because impoverished disabled people have nowhere else to go,” one user responded. “70% of co2 emissions are caused by 10 companies! but yes let’s blame poor people for wanting to have clothes!” another sarcastically replied. Others were more nihilistic. “The planet died in 2012 mama a couple crop tops not gonna do anything now.” Twitter user @nonbinarybooty summarized many of these sentiments in a thread. They recognized that people shouldn’t splurge on clothes weekly from one of the worst fast fashion labels. At the same time, they added, $40 is an outrageous price to pay for a shirt, thrifting has become inaccessible, and many clothing brands don’t even make clothes in larger sizes. “[W]ho the fuck in their right mind is going to spend $40 on ONE SHIRT where there exists a platform for someone to use the same $40 for 2-3+ whole outfits,” they tweeted. “BE SERIOUS.” (That tweet has also gone viral, racking up about 84k likes at the time of this post’s publishing).

Such defenses are nothing new. They appear from time to time in communities such as StyleForum and Reddit’s Female Fashion Advice, usually from members who believe that anti-fast-fashion sentiments are trendy and are used as a way for wealthier consumers to feel morally superior. This round, however, was a little different. Justifications for shopping at Shein were frequently couched in terms of social and economic justice. It’s said that overworked Americans have no other options because of the decline in real wages. They neither have the time nor money to look for better clothing. Consumers, particularly those from marginalized communities, should not be held responsible for what’s inherently about capitalism. Fast fashion critics were accused of being classist, ableist, privileged, and insensitive to the realities faced by people who need larger sizes. They failed to recognize that some people live in “thrift market deserts,” where thrift stores either don’t exist, or they’ve been gentrified by young white women who resell their Goodwill finds at a profit, leaving low-income, people of color with nothing.

Is it actually classist to be against fast fashion? Do people not have other options? How can someone build a quality wardrobe without resorting to fast fashion retailers and not spending themselves in debt? Let’s work through the options.

What is Fast Fashion?

First, let’s define fast fashion. Fast fashion is often misunderstood as cheap, mass-produced clothing. But that’s not the entire picture. Many companies sell cheap, mass-produced clothes but aren’t fast fashion (for example, Hanes, Dickies, Carhartt, LL Bean, Land’s End, and so on). Fast fashion isn’t just cheap clothing—it’s cheap and trendy clothing. The term “fast” refers to how a company brings a product to market.

Fast fashion grew out of quick response manufacturing (QRM), a production system developed in the United States during the 1980s and ’90s. In the traditional fashion business model, a company will design a collection for many months before producing samples to show to store buyers at an industry tradeshow. Once those store buyers place their orders, the brand will go into production and then deliver the units to these stores six months later. As a result, the lead time from design to delivery can be as long as a year, sometimes more.

In the 1980s and ’90s, a collaboration between US companies and research universities developed a new manufacturing system that allowed them to shorten that process, allowing US firms to remain competitive in a globalized marketplace. About a decade later, companies such as H&M, Zara, and Primark adopted those QRM technologies. They built them around even more efficient supply chains, typically relying on labor in low-cost countries, and combined them with enhanced product design capabilities, forming the foundation of today’s fast fashion system. Instead of a year, the process of developing, manufacturing, and delivering products could be completed in as little as six weeks. Retailers also developed a new inventory system that allowed them to stock fewer units. If they discovered that a specific jacket was selling exceptionally well in the middle of a season, they could quickly restock and respond to rapidly changing trends. Zara and H&M created a new system that allowed them to have up to 16 collections per year and two delivery schedules per week. The concept was to bring cheap, trendy items to market quickly—hence, fast fashion.

Shein has pushed this system so far down its developmental path, they’ve made Zara and H&M look like slow fashion retailers by comparison. “While Zara revolutionized the industry in the 2000s by narrowing clothing’s lead time from design to store to a matter of weeks, Shein can do that in days,” Lara Williams wrote for Bloomberg. “Even more unique is how it has combined a super-fast supply chain with blisteringly quick market research and customer acquisition.” Shein doesn’t just rip its designs off runways. They leverage big data using Google, their site, their competitors, and changes in social media to deliver what consumers want in real-time. They also sell clothes at much lower prices. According to Bloomberg, the median price for a dress at Zara is $49.99. At Shein, it’s a mere $13 (lower if we’re to use sales and promotions). The sheer choice at Shein dwarfs what you can find at retailers such s Zara and H&M, which were already giants in their day.

Who’s buying these clothes? Is it overworked, underpaid Americans who can’t afford to find better options? Since Shein is a privately held company (with plans to IPO in two years), no one knows except the company’s shareholders. However, Shein shopping haul videos are among the most watched on platforms such as TikTok and YouTube. A quick perusal suggests that it’s mostly young, middle-class consumers who are hungry to stay up-to-date on trends. If there are any fingerprints of overworked, underpaid people, they belong to the invisible garment workers who toiled to make these low-priced clothes.

(above graph via Bloomberg Opinion, April 2022; screenshots from YouTube)

Building a Quality Wardrobe on a Budget

I suspect a lot of the language used to justify shopping at Shein doesn’t stem from bad intent, but just a lack of understanding of how to thrift or build a wardrobe outside of trends. True, fashion prices have rapidly outpaced inflation over the last ten years (with menswear prices leading the way). It also takes a little more effort to shop secondhand, as thrifting has grown in popularity, and thrift stores are more likely to be filled with low-quality cast-offs from the 1990s rather than quality garments from previous eras. But it is possible.

One of the problems with building a quality wardrobe today is that it’s not enough to find quality clothes that will last for many years. You’re dressing not only your body but also an identity and a lifestyle. The scope for these things is much larger today than two generations ago. People from vastly different backgrounds will have very different requirements. This is what makes writing about men’s clothing so challenging.

For example, I could suggest that you build a wardrobe around affordable American basics. You can find vintage Shetland knits on eBay for about $25—the same price as Shein’s knitwear, but better made—by searching for the terms “Shetland,” “Scottish,” and “Scotland” and clicking “include descriptions.” Shetlands are hardwearing sweaters, so they’re likely to be in good condition even if they’re vintage. You can also search eBay for Brooks Brothers MiUSA oxford button-downs and under-the-radar British shoes. Durable chinos from Bronson and Duck Head can be had for as little as $40. LL Bean, Lands End, and Spier & Mackay are also all good sources for these sorts of clothes. Remember, the people who used to make up the online Ivy-style community were almost never Old Money WASPs. They were frequently just ardent thrifters who knew how to spot quality and build wardrobes on a budget. For inspiration, check out the guys behind An Affordable Wardrobe and Glengarry Sporting Club.

(above photos via Glengarry Sporting Club and Wooden Sleepers)

You may find that classic American style too conservative for your liking. Perhaps you prefer clothes that are a little more rugged. If so, search eBay for heavyweight flannel shirts from brands such as Big Mac, Big Yank, Big Mike, Five Brothers, and Frostproof. Pick up a pair of secondhand jeans or a denim jacket from Levis (the MiUSA versions are often better than the ones made today). Get a used French chore coat. Buy shoes from Vans and Converse. Get a pair of Dickies painter pants, 874 work pants, Carhartt double-knees, or Rothco vintage chinos. All of these options will be just as cheap as what you can find at Shein, but better made, and they can be styled in a workwear or streetwear manner, depending on your preference.

I can’t go through every possible aesthetic and list the various options that would make up such a wardrobe. But keep in mind that fast fashion retailers are ripping off runway designs, which are frequently inspired by the affordable, often thrifted clothes that cool people wear. Certain aesthetics, to be sure, necessitate deep pockets. You have to pony up if you want fine Italian tailoring or a Rick Owens wardrobe. However, generations of working-class people have dressed well in the past, and their clothing can still be found in thrift stores. Look to the past for inspiration—workwear, grunge, punk, skate, hip hop, musicians, and artists. Develop an eye for how to dress well without following trends. Choose an aesthetic that works well with secondhand clothes (e.g., workwear, which ages well with time). This will give you some early successes with thrifting and creating outfits, which will keep you encouraged in the process.

(above screenshots from eBay showing Big Mac flannels and Dickies painter pants)

Some Other Ideas

Find Value-Focused Brands: The problem with fast fashion is that the design is more likely to wear out before the seams, which is why so many of these garments are discarded before they reach the end of their useful life. Keep in mind that not all low-cost clothing is fast fashion. Consider Hanes, Levi’s, LL Bean, Lands’ End, Camber, Clarks, Timberland, Converse, Vans, Wrangler, Lee, Blundstone, Uniqlo, and Carhartt for more timeless designs. We also have a multi-part series on where to find value-focused brands.

Check Military Surplus Depots: For generations, military surplus depots have been a source of cool clothes for budget-conscious consumers, including the 1970s counter-culture youths who stuck a bohemian pose and razzed the American warmongering machine while wearing M65 army jackets. Check these depots for military field jackets, fatigues, peacoats, and rugged bags. And don’t forget to browse other countries’ stock. Post-war German cargo pants and Army sneakers are great. French army paratrooper bags have been on my shopping list forever (check measurements—these are big). I also like wearing military liners as standalone outerwear.

Thrifting: Thrifting is becoming more difficult these days, but you can still build a wardrobe from thrift store finds. (After only two minutes of looking, I found a $5 Beams-like shirt at a thrift shop a few days ago.) Look for stores that are clustered together so you can take a route and visit multiple locations. Avoid stores in cool neighborhoods and near students, who will have cleaned them up. All the better if you can find thrift stores in upscale neighborhoods or ritzy charity shops with a wealthy donor base (rich people donate nice clothes). Local institutions such as the opera or symphony, as well as private schools or civic organizations, are good bets. Although I’m not a fan of reducing the quality of clothing to country of origin tags, if you’re new to thrifting, looking for older items made in the US, UK, or Italy is often a good way to ensure you’re buying something of quality. Go thrifting on a regular basis, and pay attention to how often stores rotate through their stock. But also be prepared to not always come home with a great find. Thrifting is one of those things where you have to love the process, so the activity becomes leisure, not work. More tips can be found in our thrifting guide.

(above photo via Brut Clothing)

Consider Curated Shops: Not everyone enjoys the thrifting experience. If you want a more curated selection, visit Bobby from Boston, Wooden Sleepers, Raggedy Threads, Mothfood, Velour, The Goody Vault, and Brut Clothing. The prices will be higher than at Goodwill, but they will have done all of the work for you in terms of finding, repairing, and cleaning high-quality vintage clothing. In terms of selection, each store has its own “taste.” Finding the right curated shop can save you time and money.

Buy Less, Buy Better: The phrase “buy less, buy better” used to be the mother’s milk of menswear writing. It’s been so overused, that it has almost lost all meaning. But I still believe in it. You’ll be happier with one high-quality garment, even purchased at a higher price, than five low-quality ones that you purchased at a “steal.”

You Don’t Need Much: Keep in mind that you don’t need much to build a wardrobe. In the United States, we’re accustomed to the concept of large closets crammed with countless options. However, in Paris, where people of all backgrounds dress stylishly, many make do with much less. This is due in part to the fact that Parisian homes are much older, built during a time when people typically only had a few things to wear. About eight years ago, I interviewed a reader named Brian, who was based in the French capital at the time. He was extremely stylish, but he only owned two pairs of jeans, one pair of black trousers, two textured sweaters, a few t-shirts, a few button-up shirts, two pairs of suede boots, one pair of sneakers, and a few coats. Despite his minimalist wardrobe, he was able to mix and match to create a variety of outfits because he carefully planned his purchases, ensuring that each piece fit into a cohesive scheme. Looking back at that post, I still think he’s stylishly dressed almost ten years later. If you avoid trends, purchase good clothes, and shop within your budget, you can also look back at decade-old photos and be happy with your purchases.

Know How to Get Things Tailored: As always, knowing what can be tailored will help you find clothes that fit. The general rule is that tops should fit across the shoulders and chest, with most other details being negotiable. Pants must also fit well around the thighs, seat, and rise (tapering the legs or taking in the waist is easy). Knowing your own fit issues and how to work around them, as well as the capabilities of your local alterations tailor, will help you find clothes that fit, even in larger sizes.

Visit Our Archive: Put This On has been around for over ten years, and we have a massive archive of posts about how to shop on a budget (that has always been an underlying ethos for our site). Check out our Best Of, Guides, and Start Here sections. Yes, shopping for a high-quality wardrobe will take time or money. The old adage “good, fast, cheap—pick two” still holds true. But in the end, you’ll be happier with your wardrobe. Begin with this post by Jesse about his mother, who knows how to shop effectively. I still believe that knowledge, not money, is the key to good style.

(above photo via Bobby From Boston)

A Note About Economic Justice

I want to end with a comment about this language used to defend fast fashion. In the last ten years, many people have become increasingly aware of the social, economic, and racial inequalities that pervade American society. I think that’s good, as awareness is the first step towards fixing these issues. It’s true that we’ve seen a decline in real wages, and that fashion companies don’t always create sizes that fit everyone. It’s also true that many working-class Americans can’t afford to buy LL Bean or spend hours shopping at thrift stores.

But I don’t think the answer is to shop from companies such as Zara, H&M, or Shein. I’m not a nationalist, so I’m fine with importing goods and creating jobs overseas. But not bad jobs. Not only do fast fashion brands create bad jobs, sometimes resulting in building collapses on innocent garment workers, but they also lower wages across the entire garment industry. Last year, when California was still on a piece-rate system, Los Angeles garment workers earned an average of $5.15 per hour—well below the legal $15/ hour minimum wage. In the US, this industry mostly employs Latino, Afro-Caribbean, and Southeast Asian workers, many of whom are first-generation immigrants. Many issues afflict these workers’ labor conditions, some structural. However, one significant factor is the low cost of fast fashion imports. When consumers can buy a $12 shirt from Shein, they begin to believe that a $40 shirt is overpriced, lowering wages even for garment workers who aren’t producing fast fashion. I understand that it can be difficult to build a quality wardrobe in this day and age, but fast fashion is creating the very poverty and racial inequality that Shein supporters use to justify their purchases. No one needs to look trendy. You can build a quality wardrobe and look stylish without worsening things for some of the most marginalized people in the world.

During the depths of the Great Depression, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt wrote It’s Up to the Women, urging women to play a role in cutting costs where necessary, spending wisely, and taking personal responsibility for lifting the country out of its abyss. She even provided some fashion advice in the book:

Do not think, however, that the price which you pay for clothes means a well-dressed or a poorly dressed woman. A ten-dollar dress, if you have good taste, may be just as pretty as one for which you have spent ten times as much. I have seen women who spend very small amounts on their clothes but who plan them carefully, frequently look better-dressed than women who waste a great deal of money and buy foolishly and without good taste.

The price of a garment is not always indicative of its real worth nor is it indicative of whether you are buying something that has been made under sweat shop conditions or not. This is a phase which even the poorest, in planning a clothes budget, should consider, for no matter what we can afford to buy, we cannot afford to buy at the expense of the health and strength of our fellow human beings. When you budget for your clothes remember to find out where you can buy economically but safely for your own health as well as for that of the workers.

(above photo via Garment Worker Center)

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May is around the corner, and soon enough, we’ll all face a familiar spring/summer style dilemma: how do you dress well when it’s scorching hot outside? In the last few years, the menswear community has run through predictable options: tropical wool and linen trousers, airy Aloha shirts, and various slip-on shoes. This year’s hottest spring/summer trend adds to that list. Mesh shirts, also known as lace and crochet shirts, combine comfort with style, allow you to feel every gentle breeze, and will make you look like a sexy little Asian pear. Here are the four if you want to channel the energy of a plump, delicious fruit that’s good for nibbling.

We can’t talk about mesh shirts without mentioning Aime Leon Dore’s Rico, which is modeled and named after something Cam’ron once wore in the 2002 film Paid in Full. When the shirt was released last year, it made big waves in the streetwear community, inspiring men everywhere to dress like a mostly flavorless fruit with a crisp, grainy texture. Wear this open and layered over a tank top, and then place a little produce sticker on your belly.

High fashion retailers such as SSENSE, Matches, and Cultizm are full of mesh shirts this season, a sign of the style’s trendiness. Some notables include Amomento and Sasquatchfabrix. I like how Jackie Pettitt wears her Amomento shirt on Instagram (with workwear pants, a white t-shirt, and coordinated sneakers), and think the same outfit can work on anyone, regardless of gender. Pear this with wide-legged trousers if you want to look like a delectable, juicy fruit that bruises easily.

Scott Fraser’s Ischia knit is inspired by a mesh shirt that Jude Law wore in the 1999 film The Talented Mr. Ripley and fragrant fruits that Asian people commonly give as gifts. I like how PTO writer and Plaza Uomo editor Peter Zottolo wears it with drawstring linen shorts and glamorously oversized sunglasses. Wear this to Asian markets so that people can say, “look at that sexy little Asian pear buying even smaller Asian pears.”

Here at Put This On, we always try to be budget-conscious, so while the options above stretch into the many hundreds of dollars, this Sunflower shirt costs under two bills (it’s also available in black or cream). A friend who bought this says it fits slim, but not tight, and suggests that people size up if they want a looser fit. When layered open over a simple t-shirt, it will add texture to an outfit and serve as camouflage if you ever play hide-and-seek inside a 99 Ranch Market. “Where did he go?” they’ll ask. “All I see is a sexy little Asian pear.”

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In the last few years, Aime Leon Dore has become one of menswear’s most influential labels. Nearly all brands use some era as a lodestar, but Aime Leon Dore is notable for using a particular time and place in the world: 1994 New York City. Queens-raised Teddy Santis, who founded the label some years ago, deftly uses online imagery and clothes to tell a story about this special period in street culture. On Instagram, Aime Leon Dore posts photos of NYC pizza parlors and 90s-era Micheal Jordan, placing those photos next to images of their fleeces, tracksuits, and sneakers. For a time, Aime Leon Dore had a link on their website for “additional info,” which led straight to the iTunes page for Nas’ Illmatic. It was their way of saying, “this is all you need to know about our brand.”

But is Aime Leon Dore, in fact, a tribute to 1994 New York City? I thought so too, for a while, until they released their new spring/ summer lookbook yesterday. Many of the shots look oddly familiar, such as how they dressed Big Body Bes in a black velour tracksuit. “Hm,” I thought. “That looks like something George Costanza would wear.”

A quick search will reveal some striking similarities. George’s cabled tennis sweater and beige trenchcoat appear in Aime Leon Dore’s catalogs. The chestnut brown corduroy suit, which George wore when he tried to return to his office and pretend he didn’t just quit his job, also shows up as an Aime Leon Dore x Drake’s collaboration. Curiously, Aime Leon Dore styles the model just like George — the chestnut brown color is just right, and the jacket is paired with a burgundy tie.

Some might say those classics are bound to appear in any menswear catalog. But how about this? Are ALD’s baseball jerseys and jackets a tribute to 1994 New York City? Or one of George’s only jobs and the time he tried to be a “bad boy?”

What about these striking similarities? Are they mere coincidences or proof that George Costanza is Teddy Santis’ secret muse? I find it curious.

Not convinced? Then why did Aime Leon Dore style this model wearing a red parka in a New York diner? Who wears a red parka in a diner? Only one man that I know.

Lightweight lemon-yellow spring jackets appear on both the ALD model and George. And while George’s mustard cardigan is worn with a striped scarf, the ALD cardigan is striped. However, and interestingly, ALD’s stylists had the model also wear a scarf. A coincidence or a clue?

George’s two outfits above also feel very Aime Leon Dore with their low-crown baseball caps and practical outerwear in just-right colors. I have to say, he also looks very stylish.

So, is Aime Leon Dore inspired by 1994 New York City street culture? Or is it some bizarre, twisted, multi-year tribute to Teddy Santis’ favorite television character, George Costanza? Does ALD stand for Aime Leon Dore or Apparel by Larry David? At press time, an email to ALD asking these very questions went unanswered (how interesting). I will leave it to you to decide.

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North Country Camps is divided into two sections: Lincoln for boys and Whippoorwill for girls. They’re a back-to-basics summer camp organization that emphasizes a rustic attitude and getting back to nature. The bunks don’t have electricity, the campfires are plentiful, and the camps’ location in New York’s sky-high Adirondacks means there’s a heavy emphasis on mountaineering. Like many things during this past year, North Country Camps have been temporarily shut down due to the pandemic. To compensate, they have taken the camp spirit online with Zoom meet-ups, including some for alumni. Considering that North Country Camps has been operating for over a hundred years, there are many of us. So when I saw an Instagram post announcing a reunion of campers from the 1940s and ’50s — my god — I was immediately drawn to the vintage photos of young adventurers.

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Jonathan Wertheim is the one-man operation behind the popular Instagram account Berkeley_Breathes. Part anthropologist and part fashion curator, Wertheim spends his days combing through yearbooks, both from prep schools and colleges, and curates a selection of photos on Instagram to give viewers a look at what he uneasily describes as “Ivy” style. Yes, there are plenty of Shetland sweaters and 3-2 rolls, but he also shows how campus fashion shifted, and how clothes were used more as a form of self-expression, rather than the codified uniform described online today. Through his archive, digging skills, and eye for detail, Wertheim documents generations of popular collegiate fashion in America. Wertheim shared some of his favorite photos with us and chatted about “Ivy” style: how the past can influence modern style, the association between “Ivy” and far-right politics, and why this style is still for everyone.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Charles McFarlane: How did you get into “Ivy” style?

Jonathan Wertheim: I’ve been interested in clothing for a long time. At some point, I wanted to know more about this specific style. I admit, I don’t love the name “Ivy.” But I was curious to learn more about this look, which is how I ended up on a forum. I was drawn into this style’s eclectic expression. There are many takes on it, which resonated with me since I’m not a straight-down-the-middle type person. I like a lot of things. 

CM: I don’t think most people would think of “Ivy” style as eclectic.

JW: You know, there are only a few things in the “Ivy” canon: penny loafers, three-two sacks, oxford cloth button-downs, and repp ties. I’m not that well-tuned into #menswear or menswear influencers. I’m just within the world of the yearbooks, and the clothes featured are very eclectic. It isn’t all this carefully composed stuff in Apparel Arts or Hollywood images, where everything has its place. People were doing weird things. That’s where this style came from — people doing weird things — and I think that’s forgotten a little bit. That resonates with me much more than the standard narrative about blue blazers, khakis, and loafers. 

CM: I suppose this opens up the door to talking about what is the proper term. I don’t love the term “Ivy” myself, and when I look at your Instagram account, both the schools and the style featured seem much broader. I think of it more as American Collegiate style and the casualization of American dress. How do you see the style you are documenting?

JW: This is a very interesting question, as it brings up some thorny issues regarding the style and its associated communities. People often talk about Ivy as a very egalitarian style, which is funny when we call it “Ivy.” I think the clothes are very egalitarian and look good on pretty much anyone. But obviously, today’s prices are not egalitarian. Historically, access to Ivy schools was also not egalitarian. I know that, when I look for yearbooks to take images from, I’m guided by some icky things. If I’m looking at a yearbook from a state school, the chances of it featuring good “Ivy” clothes go down. The same is true of Midwestern schools or schools that have a strong focus on the hard sciences. Those students weren’t coming from these communities, and such clothes may not have served them in the worlds they were about to enter. 

CM: You’re pretty outspoken on Instagram when it comes to gatekeeping. I find that perspective refreshing. But how would you describe your relationship with the more problematic aspects of “Ivy?”

JW: There’s a real fetishization of this style as representing elite class culture, something more intellectual and refined. I think many people are drawn to it because they feel like they’re missing refinement and culture either in their own lives or the world around them. Unfortunately, when we talk about culture, refinement, polish, and pedigree, we’re usually talking about some problematic things regarding race and class. 

However, when you go into the historical record of yearbooks, you’ll find that narrative doesn’t always reflect what happened on campuses. Schools were very white for a very long time, but then things started to diversify. You just don’t see this record publicized because those pictures don’t fit that Take Ivy narrative. So online culture perpetuates the idea of how this style is supposed to look and what it represents. 

I’m an English teacher, and in my field, representation in literature is a big area of discussion. There’s a lot of support now for the idea that students are happier and more successful when they see representations of themselves. Many people in this community like to wring their hands over how no one wears these clothes anymore, but the only way this style will survive is by representing the people who are actually interested in it. The historical reality is that many of these schools were predominately white because of racist structures. But instead of just pursuing historical accuracy, maybe we should try to balance the scales a bit and say, “Hey, here’s this Asian-American student at a prep school who was crushing it.” I’d rather show that person than repost the same photos already shown on a million blogs and sites. It’s about amplifying a part of this style’s history that has been forgotten. 

CM: For many people, “Ivy” clothes represent more than just a period in American collegiate dress, it also represents a specific set of conservative American values. As American life has become more politically polarized, far-right politics have increasingly bubbled up in the “only Ivy” community.” Is it possible to separate this look from its associated politics? 

JM: When someone is trying to connect these clothes to a particular set of values, they’re often trying to connect them to conservative social values. It’s a bit self-selecting in that regard. If you wear these clothes, you will have some traditional aspects to you. You value the past, history, and to some degree, traditions. The problem comes when people circle the wagons and say, “I’m the last defender of a tradition that others are attacking.” That’s basically every article at Ivy-Syle.com.

I hope what I’m doing is fighting against that attitude, as these are just clothes. Anyone can wear them, and anyone has worn them. You can hold up as many photos of William F. Buckley as you want and say, “this is the tradition that I’m defending with these clothes.” I can hold up just as many photos of Robert Lowell, Arthur Miller, and Robert F. Kennedy from that same period. There was a time when these clothes were worn by a broad section of society. And as I mentioned, if you show how this used to be a much more diverse and broad field, you can bring in new people today who may have previously felt these clothes don’t represent them. 

CM: I think something unique to menswear is how people are continually looking to the past for inspiration. What do you think about the obsession with history, looking at the student archetype and archival material for contemporary style?

JW: It’s useful and dangerous. It’s always going to be helpful to look at what’s come before. It can be something as simple as finding an attitude that you like and bringing that attitude to what you wear today. If you’re looking to the past to ask questions, be curious, and make things fresh today, that’s awesome — I mean, that’s the Ralph Lauren story. The danger comes when you look towards the past for style and feel like you missed out on something. If you’re watching a movie or looking at an advertisement, you have to remember that those things were intentionally designed to make you feel a certain way. It’s easy to look at a piece of media and then suddenly want something — something that will supposedly make you more authentic or recreate a look you love — while not thinking about the emotions intentionally stirred. 

CM: Many of the images you find in yearbooks look like they could have been taken a few years ago at some small liberal arts college. Especially when you get into the late 1960s to mid-’70s. It feels like these images are still really relevant today.

JW: I often have that experience, where I’ll come across a photo and feel like it could have been taken yesterday. Some of the outfits are timeless; some are clearly pegged to a period. There are also things in-between. During the 1960s, there were some schools in New Hampshire where many students unexpectedly wore classic cowboy boots. They wore them in postmodern ways, not unlike today, where people play around with conventional rules. And you see this again in the late 1960s and early ’70s, where people felt the power structures weren’t working for them, so they dressed in counter-cultural ways. 

CM: I’m glad you brought that up, as it feels like we’ve been circling this idea of postmodernism in dress. So much of what we’re talking about is our ability to dip in and out of this style at will, and separate dress from its associated values or lifestyle. Do you think “Ivy” or “trad” are thoroughly postmodern at this point? 

JW: If you dress “Ivy” or “trad” in 2021, it’s postmodern to some degree because you’re making a conscious decision. Take Tucker Carlson, for instance. Some say his style is natural to him because he went to St. George’s boarding school and later Trinity College. But if you look at the other people in his cohort, they don’t dress like that. Yes, he may have had to follow a dress code while at a boarding school. And yes, he may have grown up in a family that emphasized the importance of wearing certain things. But he also had the same choice as people in his cohort to not buy shirts from Mercer or sport coats from J. Press. But he didn’t; he chose this because it’s a conscious thing to represent something about yourself.

As much as I would like to divorce clothes from values, it’s invariable that people will read things into your clothing choices. This is true if you wear sack suits or cowboy boots. I think the postmodern fluidity comes through context. Our clothing signals are complicated. We each bring something different to those choices — our personality, awareness, and backgrounds — which can change the meaning of even just one item, nevermind the combination of those items in an outfit. That’s what makes “Ivy” style so interesting. 

For more of Jonathan’s photos, you can follow him on Instagram at his handle Berkeley_Breathes.

The post The Instagram Account Showing “Ivy’s” More Eclectic Side  appeared first on Put This On.

In a post last month at Permanent Style, Bruce Boyer shared some charmingly low-res images of his Anderson & Sheppard sport coat. It’s made from a clear finished, 14oz worsted wool, a brown version of the classic Prince of Wales check. Cut with a soft shoulder and draped chest, it looks wonderful on Bruce, as he pairs with tan cavalry twill trousers, a light blue shirt, and a blue striped tie. Tucked inside the right in-breast pocket is also a small hand-sewn label that neatly reads: “Made in England by Anderson & Sheppard Ltd, 30 Savile Row, London. 9/5/83. Bruce Boyer Esq.”

The word classic is the most overused descriptor in fashion writing. Yet, 37 years after Bruce walked into Anderson & Sheppard to commission this coat, he still looks great in it today. Much of that is thanks to the moderate proportions — the lapel, length, and shoulder line don’t veer into the extreme — and consistency of Bruce’s good taste. If you scroll through photos of him online, you’ll always see him in the same British-Ivy clothes. He looks the same today as he did when we featured him in our webseries nearly ten years ago, or when he first appeared at The Sartorialist in 2007. Open the back cover of his 1985 book Elegance, and there you’ll see Bruce’s author photo. He looked younger back then, but was still dressed in the same unmistakable clothes. 

While reading that Permanent Style post, I thought about how wonderful it would be to consistently wear something for 37 years. Clothes described as classic are not often timeless — many can be easily pegged to an era or age, as evidenced by what you find in thrift shops. “Classic menswear” ten years ago — as it was worn with trim pants, colorful bracelets, cutaway collar, and double monks — also looks terribly dated today. Yet, Bruce’s style is proof that some things do age well. Such a proven track record is refreshing at a time when new clothes, silhouettes, and style archetypes debut by the minute, and many are concerned about the fashion industry’s contribution to a global climate crisis. So I reached out to Bruce to talk about how he built his wardrobe, what advice he has for a younger person, and how classic menswear might fit into broader discussions about sustainability. 

Derek Guy: I’ve always admired the stability of your style. But before you wore the clothes you do now, did you experiment much with clothing? Are there things in the Bruce Boyer archive that you regret?

Bruce Boyer: You use the word stability to describe my style so delicately and diplomatically. The fact is, for better and worse, I’ve worn the same style of clothes since I was 15 or so. It may seem strange, it sometimes does to me, that I would have been so taken with my appearance at an early age. I can only explain it by thinking that I was a rather short and scrawny kid in a blue-collar neighborhood, and looking for survival tools, I hit upon style as a weapon. I was merely adequate at team sports, not particularly handsome, had no father as a role model or teacher. I believe I had a highly developed sense of humor and good manners — and those two attributes will get you halfway there. But how to go the second half? I must have started to closely watch the older guys and how the more successful ones did it. The “wheels,” as they were called, had specific ways of walking and talking, certain poses, special language, and particular forms of dressing. I looked and learned.

So fortunate for me, I had a mother who allowed a certain freedom in choosing my own clothes even from the time I was perhaps six or seven. Her rule was that when I was with my friends, I could dress any way I wanted. But when I was with family, I would dress more appropriately. It was a good deal, and so I was allowed to experiment with my “looks.” When I started my teenage years, it was both the twilight of the zoot suit era and the age of The Rebel Look years of the 1950s. I wore a zoot suit for a very short time (a big mistake for a skinny, short kid) and a black leather biker jacket and engineer boots a little longer. I lost interest in the zoot look quickly, but still to this day admire the biker look. Most of the clothing I see today has its roots in the ’50s — the Rebel look, the Man in the Gray Flannel Suit, Italian styling, the British approach, ranch wear, and prole gear — and we absorbed it through movies and adapted it for ourselves. I wore it all, kept wearing those items that worked for me (jeans, flannel shirts, ranch jackets), and forgot things that didn’t (black leather motorcycle jacket, pegged pants, “stingy brim” hats, engineer boots, Chelsea boots).

When I entered high school, I was put in with kids from other parts of town and introduced to the Ivy League Look from the city’s wealthier section. I immediately took up this look. I pestered my grandparents, the sweetest people on earth, to buy me a Harris tweed sports jacket I’d seen in our local department store, and that was the start of my lifelong style of dress. I became a fan of Fred Astaire, Marcello Mastroianni, and Sean Connery, and while I didn’t look like any of them in any way, I found I could adapt things they wore to suit me. So, in addition to my Ivy wardrobe, I added a few “Continental” items (a dark grey, mohair double-breasted suit and a brown puppytooth, single-breasted one), Cary Grant collared shirts (they were about a half-inch higher than normal and were called “High Boy” collars), flannel trousers, and other items. For my graduation present, I opted for a gray flannel made-to-measure suit, the start of my road to clothing depravity in the custom clothing trades.

So my wardrobe was mostly khakis, button-down oxfords, and Shetland sweaters when I entered a small Ivy League college, mixed with a few more international items from Italy and England, and the Army & Navy store. In my four undergrad years, I perfected what has become my personal look. We had an excellent campus shop and several good trad shops. Then I discovered Langrock in Princeton, a repository of great American and British clothes in the days when Princeton students and their profs were still dressing like they meant it. By that time, I’d also started regularly going to Manhattan — plays, concerts, nightclubs, museums, girls, clothing stores, record shops — and discovered all the important stores there: Brooks Brothers, J. Press, Chipp, Saks Fifth Avenue (wonderful in the 1950s), and others which are no longer sadly there.

Additionally, I went to Europe for the first time in 1963 and discovered both Savile Row and Carnaby Street. I liked Savile Row better, and never really got into the floral shirts with long collars and such. I hunted out the classic shops. People ask me how I could afford those clothes, but they have no idea how inexpensive things were in England at that time, just a few years after the war. You could get a very good off-the-peg suit at any number of stores in the heartiest cloths for under $100. On my second trip to London a few years later, I bought a bespoke three-piece flannel suit from Bailey & Weatherill for $125. I was able to visit London every year in the ’60s and ’70s, and I’d pack light and simply buy what I needed to wear there. Somewhere in the ’80s, things started to change dramatically, and clothing prices rose along with everything else.

I began my short teaching career in 1964. A few years later, it was evident that we were entering a new era. There were outward signs. The Beatles arrived in ’64 with their Carnaby Street style and created an uproar for all things British. I’d been to the “Mr. Fish” store in London and tried a few flamboyant shirts and wide ties, but by this time, I was already stuck in my Ivy-British conservative style. Then came the deluge for Ivy style. It was the Summer of Love in 1967 and Woodstock in 1969; students returned to their campuses after burning all their Ivy gear. They adopted the uniform of tie-dyed t-shirts, distressed bell-bottomed jeans, Afros, and kurtas (Indian collarless shirts made of dyed cotton). I continued to wear a suit or sports jacket and tie when teaching on campus, even though I sympathized with the student movements that were occurring. So, in summation, I’d say that my years from 5 to 14 were experimental. The years from 14 to 20 were hardening and trying to perfect my image (still working on that, but with less concern). I occasionally try a small experimental gap into a slightly wilder tie, bolder striped shirt, or colorful sweater. I recently discovered the color purple and wonder why I’ve never had anything purple before. But my wife continues to say that all of my tweed jackets look the same (and she’s right). I recently thought to buy a new overcoat and finally got one: a Gloverall duffle, exactly the one I wore as a freshman in college. All my friends know I’m hopeless.

So the “perfecting” part of it continues as life changes, without as much enthusiasm, but with as much interest. I’m not interested in looking younger than I am; I’d rather try to look the best I can for my years. I haven’t needed clothes for decades because I maintain what I buy, but I still occasionally get a flutter when I pass by a display of nice sweaters, and one of them whispers, “take me home with you.”

DG: What advice would you give to a younger person who’s trying to build a more sustainable wardrobe?

BB: The idea of sustainability has, of course, been in the air and on the pages now for some time, but I like to think I’ve always promoted sustainability because I’ve always advised young men to buy the best they can afford and take care of their purchases. That is, wash and dry clean properly, have clothes professionally altered and repaired, and store garments and accessories appropriately. I’ve always said that two good pairs of shoes are preferable to six cheap pairs. People should get away from considering merely the purchase outlay, and instead consider the lifetime of the garment. These ideas should lead young men towards quality and classically styled clothes. I’ve never promoted fashion and never will because I think it’s wasteful to buy new clothes every season or two. My touchstones are quality and style. And I’ve found that I like my clothes all the better as they age. I’ve always thought that style isn’t fashion, and fashion isn’t style. And I’m happier with style.

A while ago, I was told by a friend that someone had, gently I hope, criticized me for dressing like an old person. I didn’t know whether to be flattered, shocked, puzzled, or angry. I decided on puzzled because I AM an older person and can’t think how I should dress if not like an older person. I simply want to be a well-dressed version of my age and believe that mutton dressed for lamb is a bit silly. Not that people shouldn’t dress any way they want, I just feel most comfortable dressing my age.

Finally, I should say a young man should experiment, try different approaches. It’s a way not only of finding what sort of clothes work best for you, but I believe it helps you find yourself in more profound ways as well. The herd’s pulling influence is strong, but you’ll be happier finding and being yourself in the long run.

DG: In GQ last year, Rachel Tashjian wrote, “The Most Sustainable Idea in Fashion is Personal Style.” Her article is basically about how it’s OK to enjoy fashion, but to turn yourself over to it entirely is to forgo individuality. And when you do that, you’re continually chasing trends. True sustainability comes from having the confidence to wear things you like even when they’re suddenly no longer considered cool.

I like her message and find it to be true when I look at the broader fashion world. Some guys have worn Rick Owens forever — longer than some who got into tailored clothing ten years ago and gave it up after five years. Bill Cunningham made the French chore coat and tan khakis his uniform. But to get to that position, guys have to consume a considerable number of things — buying and discarding, buying and discarding. How do you suggest someone find their personal style quicker and more efficiently?

BB: You’re referring to clothes and developing a wardrobe, but the question’s so difficult because I think it’s true that “style is the man.” Then the question becomes: can a person develop his style quickly, efficiently, less painfully? The diplomatic answer is yes, partially. If a young man does some homework — reads the few books that aren’t just bullshit, looks closely at how the guys he admires do it, pays some attention to admirable blogs, and asks pertinent questions when he shops — he may be able to shorten the time and save a bit of money. But in reality, we’re talking about a person developing himself, his outlook, his philosophy of life, his aesthetic, his lifestyle (for lack of a better word). There are all sorts of “lifestyle” programs, “lifestyle coaches,” and other courses promising to shorten that process. I have my doubts, particularly when swift improvement, awareness, or goal achievement is promised. It seems every season, some new guru promises salvation, but invariably he’s as quickly forgotten. So I’m dubious that there are any shortcuts to developing style. Many have looked for this golden fleece for so long and tried so hard. I think we must assume that style isn’t won easily. Those who have it are held together with scar tissue.

DG: It feels like a lot of what you write says the same thing as Tashjian’s article. You have to have a sense of personal style and not be as moved by trends. You often recommend that guys anchor themselves in more classic clothing. Yet, a lot of classic clothing has proven to be its own trend. Many guys who wore suits and sport coats ten years ago have moved on because they feel it doesn’t suit their lifestyle. Aldens have been swapped for Nikes; sport coats for Patagonia fleece. Do you think investing in a classic wardrobe still has meaning, given what’s happened in the last ten years? 

BB: That classic clothes may be a trend now and again is, I think, perfectly valid. It’s usually believed that these things go in cycles and that “dressing up” alternates with “dressing down.” There’s a psychological theory that we grow tired of one thing and must move on to another, and that this movement is like a pendulum. Some argue this is usually a 5-year cycle; others say 10-year and even 20-year cycles. I find most of these theories too simplistic to be entirely believed. But here I’m sailing into the shallows of my mind; I’m not a cultural critic or sociologist or psychologist. I do note that trends these days do move with a rapidity unknown to past ages, but I’m no longer attuned to them as I once was.

As for advice, I think people should dress as they want, within the confines of the law of course, and that it’s probably best to wear the clothes that best suit a person’s lifestyle and profession. As we all know, clothes send the most blatant kind of symbols about who we are in society, and it’s probably a good thing to send clear, truthful signals unless we wish to deceive others. There is a glaring exception to this advice. A person may have an interest in clothes and enjoy dress for its own sake, as a hobby, or some other personal reason, just as a person who rarely writes letters collects stamps. After all, most of us don’t need half of the clothes we buy, but we find joy in them. And what’s the harm in that?

Finally, I do think that some otherwise sane citizens worry too much about clothes. I’m not thinking of your blog site, Derek, but years ago, when I first started to see these clothes sites popping up, I was surprised to discover how many men were becoming interested in dressing as a blood sport. This then becomes a game of one-upmanship. Nothing wrong with it, and it serves to keep them occupied; who knows what trouble they’d get into otherwise. The line between interest and madness with some of these men is rather too thin, and I find it sad that some don’t get the joy out of clothes that they might. You can always tell the guys who are genuinely interested because they have a veneration for their old clothes. The punters don’t even have old clothes.

DG: Your point about having a veneration for old clothes seems like the heart of this issue. Sustainability, to me, feels more like an emotional thing. Sometimes I see designers talking about sustainability — the sustainability of the materials, the production, or even the design. But it feels more like a consumer issue. Ultimately, the lack of sustainability comes from us loving novelty. We want new clothes, new designs, and new style archetypes. Fashion is a culture of nonstop neophilia. In the last few years, I’ve been trying to emphasize the emotional aspect of clothes, so hopefully, people find joy in their clothing. Ideally, that joy stays with them and they don’t feel the need to replace what they own. But how do you find clothes that will eventually resonate with you long after you’ve purchased them?

BB: I often tell people that the best diet is to buy expensive clothes. I’ve maintained my weight consistently over the years because I can’t afford to keep buying new clothes. Well, I could if I bought cheap clothes, but I feel better in good clothes — i.e., clothes that fit, have lines that make me appear more attractive, and have the styling I prefer — and good garments usually have a high initial cost. I was taught to take care of my clothes, and so the initial cost is only one of the factors I consider. For me, the long run can sometimes be several decades, so the cost isn’t too exorbitant. If I remember correctly, Simon Crompton at Permanent Style once did a breakdown of prices, which showed that the garment with a high price tag can often be the most economical over the long run. I believe the term economists use for this approach is “prorated.”

For me, this approach applies to all my clothes, from jeans to socks to suits. But I’d say it’s particularly important with the more costly items in the wardrobe, such as overcoats, sports jackets, and suits. I don’t mind a flutter on a slightly garish tie or pair of socks once in a while, and if I quickly grow tired of them, there’s not much lost. But putting out a few thousand dollars has a way of concentrating my mind wonderfully. I want to make sure I’ll still like the garment years from now, that it can stand wear, alteration, and cleaning over the years. That’s why my suits are almost always conservative in cut and color, and why I choose them with an eye for accenting them with virtually any accessory in my wardrobe. My wife says all my suits and sports jackets look the same, and she’s right: all my suits are either some shade of grey or brown, and my jackets are reliably a shade of either green or brown. I might add that this is not a matter of what I think “suits” my appearance. I don’t worry about that because most of those “rules” are rather simplistic and stupid. I wear the colors and patterns I like, the ones that make me happy, and whether they make me more desirable in others’ eyes is not my concern. I know what I like, and that’s what I wear. Occasionally something new will come along for me to try, but these peccadilloes are more often failures than not, and I’m only glad I didn’t spend more on them.

I think, in short, that a man should experiment when he’s young, discover what suits him and what he likes and what fits into his lifestyle as he goes out into the world, and refine that approach as his life moves forward. But I’m aware that this pattern no longer makes much sense in a world of rapid change. Still, I think it makes sense for a person to work a bit at knowing himself. That may be the only constant available to us.

DG: What are some of the oldest things in your closet that you still wear? How did you come across them, and what makes them special to you?

BB: This would be a far easier question for me to answer if I were asked to mention the new items in my wardrobe. Writing about the older items would take a book (and now I’ve given myself an idea). But I can mention a few prototypical things to give you an idea. On my second trip to London in 1965, I discovered the shoe-making firm of G.J. Cleverley, then on Jermyn Street, I believe, and managed by George Glasgow Sr. and John Carnera. I bought an off-the-shelf pair of tobacco brown oxfords with, as Mr. Glasgow told me winkingly, a “suspiciously” square cap toe and ram’s horn punched detailing. I’ve bought many other shoes from him over the years and have them all, including this suede pair that will celebrate its 56th birthday this May. I’ve had them re-soled and -heeled half-a-dozen times or more. My wife says they’re ready for the Smithsonian, but I reckon I can get a few more years out of them with the good help and expert hands at Cleverley.

I’ve got three dress overcoats, the oldest of which was made for me by Garrick Anderson in 1984. It’s an English covert cloth coat in the traditional olive color, but I had it made double-breasted, rather than the traditional single-breasted, just to be a bit different. It’s worn like a warhorse, although I’ve done a bit of stitching around the collar and gorge myself to reinforce a worn seam. I’ve also stitched up a hole in one of the side pockets and re-attached a few buttons. I’m a dab hand with buttons; once I sew them on, they never come off again. And, oh yes, a few years ago, I had the coat shortened a bit to just below the knee.

I’ve got hundreds of ties. People give me them, and I often pass them along because picking ties for me seems almost impossible. I wouldn’t trust my wife to pick a tie for me, nor most friends. Ties are such an individual thing, probably because they’re totally useless and function almost exclusively as a symbol of status and occasionally of personal aesthetics. The oldest tie in my collection is one given to me by an old friend now deceased. He was a graduate of The London School of Economics and Political Science. We met up on one of my visits to London — this one, I believe, was in 1969 — and I noticed and commented on the handsome repp silk tie in purple with light blue stripes he was wearing. He mentioned it was his university tie. No more was said, but on my return home, a package was waiting for me containing a London School tie. I’ve still got it, it hangs there with the others, but I seldom wear it now. I suppose the happy memories now make me sad.

I mention these three items because they illustrate the way I acquired my wardrobe. It came to me bit by bit, in the course of events. Many of my clothes are encased in memories, and to part with them would be difficult. And since the quality of these items is high, I don’t see why I shouldn’t keep and maintain them. I understand that, while some have a more timeless style than others, these items are old-fashioned. But how else should I dress? To me, the height of idiocy is for a father to try to dress like his son. It shows the father doesn’t know himself, and his son won’t respect him for it.

DG: Men who wear tailored clothing well and have a stable style often have custom tailors. It’s not just that they have jackets that technically fit them well, but they have clothes made in more moderate proportions, unmoved by ready-to-wear trends. For you, your lapels are never too wide or thin. Your trousers have a classic silhouette; the jacket terminates halfway between your collar and the floor. The shoulders, similarly, are never too soft or structured. In this style versus fashion rubric, it allows you to look stylish even if your silhouette isn’t “of the moment.” 

You mentioned earlier that you started buying custom clothes when things were more affordable. But nowadays, the prices have skyrocketed. Bespoke sport coats commonly start at $3,000; suits are $5,000 and up. There are more classic suits and sport coats off-the-rack, but they’re typically not your $500 items. They are still in the many thousands of dollars. If someone wants to build a stable wardrobe without having to reinvent their silhouette every ten years, is that possible on a reasonable budget?

BB: The tailored suit and the accessories that support it have been around in recognizable form since the middle of the 19th century, let’s say roughly 175 years now, which is a pretty long run for a costume. But for the last 75 of those years, fashion has sped up considerably, and certainly, the movements towards comfort and democratic casualness in our clothes have been the driving force. Now we are also involved in the forces of sustainability and globalization. Where this will lead us regarding our wardrobes, I have little idea, but I do see it has produced an unparalleled variety of choices, which in turn has produced considerable social anxiety. It used to be that clothes were a blatant symbol of one’s place in society, which worked very well when class systems were hardened. But when the social stratum becomes porous, when people’s destinies are no longer written in iron, how is one to dress? In the past forty years — at precisely the same time as the rise of the menswear designer — there has been a plethora of books providing advice on how to navigate the turbulent waters of the social wardrobe. Most of these books are entirely outdated because (1) they weren’t written very well to begin with, and (2) they concentrated on “rules” of dress, which became irrelevant almost before the books were off the press.

That’s the background. So what of the present and near future? With the price of the bespoke crafts today, it’s become clearer and clearer to me that no one needs customized clothing. I suppose there will always be those who need to show their position in society in various outward symbols, including their dress. And there will continue to be people for whom clothing is more of a personal interest than a necessity. I would put myself in that latter category. But for most people, decent ready-to-wear clothes are now available in such a profusion of styles, quality, and the price I can’t imagine it necessary to spend one’s whole salary on outfits. In fact, technology has made good quality, personalized clothing more available than ever. A variety of made-to-measure commercial operations — which first came to the fore of fashion for men in the 1970s — can produce tailored garments acceptable to all but (1) the extremely difficult to fit, or (2) those whose tastes are either so refined or so bizarre as to need true custom work. Additionally, the so-called casual revolution in dress has provided the freedom of choice, although I see few taking courageous advantage.

DG: Classic, tailored clothing, as a style, often seems more sustainable to me than casualwear because it’s the lingua franca of men’s clothing. It’s something that everyone can quickly get into without consuming a mountain of things to pick out a small handful of pieces that represent them. It’s flattering across a wider range of body types. It doesn’t force you to ask as many existential questions. Yet, classic tailored clothing feels like it’s devolving into a costume. To wear it on a semi-daily basis, at least outside of specific industries, you almost have to mark yourself as a clothing enthusiast. Do you feel that it’s harder to build a sustainable, stable wardrobe in casualwear? Is this very wide, open world inherently unsustainable in terms of clothing consumption?

BB: I think you’re right in sensing that tailored clothing seems to be devolving more and more into costume. The gentlemen most interested in tailored clothing have created a world where the past is not merely a reference, but a refuge. I say this not as a judgment, but rather as an observation that these men take nostalgia seriously. Fashion is always a language of references, and these men seem to live in a gated community of aesthetic sentimentality. I see nothing wrong with this, and there are certainly worse vices. I suppose what I find hypocritical, but at the same time hilarious, is that some profess an interest in craftsmanship when they are, in fact, merely using clothing as a weapon in a blood sport. No one we know, of course.

I wonder if the categories — formal, business, casual — are themselves outmoded in thinking about clothing today. And thus, the very idea of “building a sustainable wardrobe,” casual or otherwise, may in itself be irrelevant and obsolete. It does strike me, if I can use this spot to mention another point, that sustainability historically has been the norm, and it’s just been in the modern age, an age of corporate commercial consumerism, in which we’ve turned our backs on the idea that the world is finite. We should care about what sort of a place we leave our children. I believe we must quickly return to the concept of “stewardship” of nature, or perhaps “partnership” would be a better description. Failing that, I can’t see that anything else matters.

DG: Let’s address the 800-pound gorilla in the room. Discussions about sustainability always fall back on the same prescriptions: buy less, buy better; don’t buy anything at all; or buy vintage where you can. Especially for casualwear, the world is awash in good vintage clothing. But ultimately, whatever path you choose, sustainability means not buying as many things.

Yet, in this COVID-age, so many of the businesses we know and love are on the brink of bankruptcy. Good stores and factories are shuttering; craftspeople are leaving their trade. For many people, both here and abroad, the fashion industry isn’t just about frivolous consumption, but how they earn a living to pay for food, housing, and medicine. Is capitalism unsustainable? How do we reconcile this concern for environmental sustainability with the sustainability of jobs and the industry we love?

BB: Capitalism is unsustainable if coupled with CCC [Corporate Commercial Consumerism]. I’m not a professional economist, sociologist, or politician, but I don’t think it takes any of these to see that the scientific evidence is in. We can read the writing on the wall clearly: pay attention to the environment or be doomed. If we take Dana Thomas’s book Fashionopolis seriously (and I think we should), the clothing industry is responsible for at least 10% of global carbon emissions, 20% of industrial water pollution, and the other statistics are even more depressing. Fashion is the concept in the clothing industry that drives this engine. My feeling is that we must examine and re-think the relationship between democracy and capitalism to encourage more sustainable lifestyles. I once met and had a conversation with Robert Rodale, one of the founding fathers of promoting organic farming in the USA. We were talking about the biblical idea that humankind should have “dominion” over nature. “Well,” he mused, “you have to remember that Nature always bats last.”

The post Bruce Boyer On Finding Your Wardrobe And Sustainability In Fashion appeared first on Put This On.

I spend a lot of time buying clothes from Japan. In fact, about ten years ago, I stopped shopping at sensible stores such as J. Crew, so I could go through a complex network of Japanese proxies to buy clothes that basically look like J. Crew, but don’t fit and I can’t return. For whatever reason, menswear obsessives love the Japanese version of some product they can likely find in the United States (and, similarly, style obsessives in Japan often think the American version of something is cooler than what they can get locally). I suppose the grass is always greener on the other side.

So here’s a lifehack: Install the Google Translate extension into your web browser (here’s the one for Chrome). Now go to J. Crew, translate everything from English to Japanese, and just pretend you’re shopping from Japan. This way, you can save a ton of money, invest in your future, and wear clothes that actually fit. Let’s take a look at how effectively this works:

Look at these coats! Instead of boring, descriptive words such as PrimaLoft (yawn), which actually give you an idea of what you’re buying, now everything looks supremely cool and desirable. That Blackwatch tartan looks so chic!

Are these the boring peacoats and topcoats you can find in every American mall, or Margaret Howell exclusives made for United Arrows? I can no longer tell!

Look at this chore coat! I bet it was hand-dipped into natural indigo by Japanese artisans trained in a centuries-old tradition. I have to have one!

I don’t know what rope dyed means, but I bet these were rope dyed!

Look at all these Beams shirts! Does anyone know if I should size up?

Is this an exclusive colorway from Buzz Rickson? I think so!

Are these heavily discounted socks that J. Crew couldn’t move at full price? Or special edition fisherman socks from Anonymous Ism that were made in collaboration with designer and fisherman Tokito Yoshida? I don’t know, but now I want a pair!

And that’s it. This is how you can save money by pretending you’re shopping in Japan. If you’re in Japan, you can employ this same trick by translating every page from Japanese to English.

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BOSTON, MA — After spending six months at home because of the coronavirus pandemic, Cory Morello, 34, says he’s excited about finally getting back into fall/winter clothes. “Nothing beats autumn in New England,” says a man looking at fall collections like he’s going to be outside. “Summer clothing is great, but there’s just so much more of it in the winter — hats, gloves, scarves, overcoats, parkas, heavy-gauge knitwear, flannels, and serious boots. I love swaddling myself in layers.” 

Morello, a man who hasn’t worn pants or shoes since March, spent Wednesday morning poring over Aimé Leon Dore’s new fall/ winter presentation. “For guys who grew up in the ’90s, this whole collection feels like home,” says a man who’s unlikely to ever leave his actual home. “I have been wondering who is going to take my money this fall and I believe I have found it.”

Aimé Leon Dore’s new fall/winter collection, titled “The World’s Borough,” features heavy-duty items such as plaid puffers, prickly tweeds, and patchwork Balmaccan coats. “I’ve wanted a bal coat ever since seeing Yasuto Kamoshita in one. He’s my favorite designer in Japan,” says Morello, an American banned from entering Japan and nearly every other country because of his government’s incompetence. “Balmaccans look so cozy. I can see myself wearing one for holiday parties and haunted hayrides, which are definitely happening this fall.”

“I also really want a chunky fisherman sweater this season,” added Morello, whose pleasant, worry-free countenances and self-assured smile beamed as bright as the morning sun. “From about September onwards, the boys and I get together every Sunday afternoon to watch football at the bar, an activity for which I will most certainly don a cashmere scarf, heavy topcoat, and chunky Aran.”

Morello’s housemates say they find his chirpy positivity to be inspiring. “He often talks about the things he wants to buy this fall/winter — leather gloves, cords in various colors, and a couple of tweed sport coats — even though he wears the same bandana and pair of Patagonia Baggies every day,” says one source. “He often forgets to change his t-shirt and he only showers every other day.” 

“I’m debating whether I should get five-pocket cords in dark brown or tan,” Morello said of a choice that literally doesn’t matter.

At press time, Morello was seen sitting on his couch, wearing nothing but his underwear, and looking over the new Barbour x Norse Projects collaboration as though it has any relevance in his future. 

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Occasionally I lament the passing of Daffy’s, the discount store specializing in European fashions of questionable taste. Of course, there was plenty of actually good stuff there, but the Northeastern chain was mostly replete with odd, sometimes contradictory items. Reflective sweaters or embellished denim or bright orange tailoring and the like were commonplace. But the store, to me, was vital to my personal stylistic development.

Back when I was younger, before the advent of the blogosphere, young men were usually encouraged to dress in alignment with their subculture, or the subculture they aspired to be a part of. I was no skater, no goth, no prep. Honestly, I wasn’t much of anything, so when I entered adolescence, I was directionless with clothes. A Daffy’s opened up near me, and I checked it out, hearing it was cheap. In the reams – and I mean it, the place was always overstuffed with product – I found clothes that weren’t necessarily one thing or the other. They were different enough from Gap basics but odd enough to have personality. Plus, it was where I bought my first pair of Supergas, and I’ve purchased a new white pair basically every year since.

Sure, I bought some duds, like a hooded sweater that made me look like a try-hard wizard, but they were cheap enough to avoid most consumer guilt, and it was in that experimentation, those hits and misses, that I found more of what I was actually about. There was also the thrill of the hunt, a shopping experience I hadn’t had before, which came with stopping by regularly to sift through their ever-changing merchandise for possible gems. Daffy’s opened me up to concepts in clothing, especially tailoring, that I wanted to know more about, and I began my pursuit of the (I hate to speak ill of the dead here) good versions of what Daffy’s had. In turn, I learned more about me as my tastes developed.

We find ourselves now amid a global pandemic with no clear end of the tunnel. The desire to go to a store or any non-essential business is at an all-time low. More people are at home, financially insecure, and with little reason to dress, not just up but at all. So it shouldn’t be surprising that retailers left and right, big and small, are shuttering. The writing was on the wall as more men began to favor online shopping, but the coronavirus considerably sped up the timeline. It’s a shame because by losing these stores, we lose the chance to explore style in person and by action, not just by scouring the internet for advice and comparisons. Yes, I realize this is a menswear blog with, among other things, online shopping tips and tricks. No matter the word count of an article, often the best advice no matter your problem is “go to a store, try some stuff on, and see what feels right.”

That bit of wisdom is tough to do online, and the lack of places to see and experience new things will inevitably send people back to what they already know. Daffy’s was massive and random. It was its own sort of fun that’d be familiar to the thrift shopper, but even the curated small shops with a more limited aesthetic are still vital. At their best, they can help expose brands to people who may otherwise not pay attention to things just outside thier line of sight. While a website might have great pictures, merchandising, and return policies, it’s still much more natural to tunnel in on your needs than explore an online catalog.

I’m waxing nostalgic in this article, for sure. Most people are probably having their own wistful “before times” memories as we hit month X of quarantine. But I’m thinking of my habits with online shopping, basically buying the same tees and the same jeans I already own since I know they’ll fit. Clothing is visual but also tactile. Without that initial introduction to clothing Daffy’s provided, I wouldn’t know the feel, the weight, the flattery of new, stranger clothes. As we become more isolated than ever, and with these storefronts losing ground, I encourage you to make wild, bold choices that don’t always have to make sense or be justified or are even wise (within financial reason, of course). Exploration and experimentation are about fun, and virtual fun is an imperfect replacement. So go forth and get weird with yourself!

Oh, and shop small in these times. We don’t have to lose everyone.

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CHICAGO, IL — Following the news Wednesday morning that Brooks Brothers has filed for bankruptcy, Brian Frazier, 28, says he can’t believe the historic American clothier is now among the many companies that have fallen during the coronavirus pandemic. “I can’t believe Brooks Brothers filed for bankruptcy,” says a man who only shops during the company’s Friends and Family sales.

Frazier, who has bought exactly one thing from Brooks Brothers in the last ten years, says he’s surprised the company no longer caters to his specific interests. “They’ve lost their way,” says a man who kept the heavily discounted shirt from his order but returned the made-in-England shoes. “They used to use Northampton factories for their shoes, but now it’s all Italian-made.”

Brooks Brothers’ filing follows a string of other closings and bankruptcy protections in the fashion industry. In May of this year, preppy-with-a-twist retailer J. Crew filed for Chapter 11 protection at a federal bankruptcy court in the Eastern District of Virginia. “It was a real shock to the system,” says Frazier, who last week stacked sixteen coupon codes on an already-discounted pair of chinos. “That was my favorite place to buy things at discounts upwards of 99.99% off.” 

According to Frazier, the fault lies with globalization, private equity firms, and poor management. “Brooks Brothers has become too reliant on discounting, just like J. Crew” solemnly declared a man who once spent four hours looking for an online coupon code to get free two-day delivery and 10% off an $18 hat. “Being the only person who understands business strategy isn’t an easy cross to bear, but simply put, I have a duty to save American industry.” 

“The thing is, I would be happy to pay full price if these companies were a little bit different in a highly specific way that would appeal slightly to me and nobody else,” says a man who has not paid full price for a single item in his entire life. “To be sure, most fashion prices are a scam anyway, it’s all inflated,” he added while factories, brands, and retailers were closing all around him. 

Earlier this year, Brooks Brothers announced they would close all three of their US factories unless they’re able to find a buyer. This follows a string of other US plant closures. In 2017, the International Textile Group shut the lights on their Cone Mills White Oak plant in Greensboro, North Carolina after 112 years in operation. Gitman Brothers is planning to shutter their shirt manufacturing plant in Ashland, Pennsylvania, and there were once rumors that Brooklyn’s Hertling trouser factory might close. Frazier, who once derided Cone Mills denim as being too “basic,” described these factory closures as “shocking” and “unbelievable.” 

“I just worry about the future of American businesses,” Frazier dolefully added, as he packaged up a 15-year-old soiled flannel shirt, a broken lawn chair, and a half-eaten oatmeal cookie to return to LL Bean, taking advantage of the company’s lifetime satisfaction guarantee. “Makes me wonder if anyone still cares about these American brands.” 

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