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You don’t just buy these. Unless, you do.

Dudes don’t just go and buy bracelets like this, they acquire them. As part of a barter deal from a farmer in Lagos perhaps. Discovered in the footwell of a borrowed kayak. Found amongst the detritus of a long abandoned Venice Beach campsite. This kind of thing works best with a story attached. You don’t just buy them from Goodhood. Unless, you do.


Personally I’d find the in-store purchase of an ethnic bracelet like this a shattering embarrassment. There are, after all, few products that carry such perceived cultural luggage. Are you an artist, a bedouin, a surfer or an explorer? Are you a fucking shaman? Fine. Then you’ll already be weighed down by the bracelets you received for helping that aborigine girl milk her kangaroo.


It might be more accurate to suggest that the market for these are close-shaven GQ business drones –  trying to offset their Reiss suit and entry-level Omega with, “somefink authentic”? After all, the whole ‘sockless milanese businessman thing’ is style-blog-cliche enough for the Barbour Chelsea and pointy-shoe crowd to get onboard. Then again, would they be buying a £100 bangle from Goodhood? Probably not.


So who’s going to buy one of these Mikia, 100% hemp cord bracelets with Japanese cotton bandana material, coconut button fastening and bead detail? Fucked if I know? Someone who never goes kayaking and never goes camping? Someone who’d be too self-conscious to try and milk anything? Someone who prefers to watch other people have cross-continental, cultural adventures via the medium of a BBC documentary and a bottomless bag of Nik Naks? Someone who writes a daily menswear blog which frequently struggles to focus on one clear point or perspective?


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