At first glance this is reasonably unremarkable. We’ve seen this stuff before, patchworking knits, plenty of wooly topography, makes you think of Inverallan and certainly S.N.S Herning. But this is Comme des Garçons Homme. And when Comme tells a story, you take the yarn onboard.
Even in a landscape of numberless Play logos and unworthy Dover Street colabs, Comme, particularly when attached to the main lines, carries an enigmatic cachet.
This miscellany of texture and pattern is more than the sum of it’s parts. It’s Comme, it’s sphinxlike, it’s poker-faced, it belongs to a club you’re not smart enough to enter. You need only toss this over a white tee, chuck on a pair of baggy chinos and a pair of roughed up Converse and you’re Allen Ginsburg, you’re Bertrand Russell, you’re somewhere between David Lynch and Will Self, you’re a fucking genius bro.
Why this is, is arguably much more to do with buying into the inherent cultural superiority of Comme, and little to do with this specific patchwork sweater. Decades of enigmatic leadership, a policy of rarely advertising, runway shows that offer the frequently unwearable… That Comme is inherently superior is the greatest tale the brand has ever managed to tell. Whether your faith in this will be tested by the £474 price tag on this, is another story.