The menswear consumer can comfortably be divided between men who wouldn’t wear dungarees and men who would. The former group comprises virtually everyone, the latter, hidden somewhere within the use of the word virtually.
Divisive, inelegant and yes, there’s fucking Mario, the dungaree is maximum workwear. If you’re wearing them you either work with your hands, or you’re on-staff at an international menswear boutique. There’s no middle ground.
The Bureau are fans of the dungaree, as evidenced by a fresh drop from Nigel Cabourn’s Lybro imprint. And if pockets are your thing, if you’re the kind of dude who requires ready access to things and stuff, then practically, if not stylistically, the dungaree could be for you. Although I’m struggling to imagine what things and stuff you’d need access to so quickly the only option is to strap on a cotton closet.
That said, in the right hands, on the right dude, with the right look dungarees can look amazing. The split denim/sateen ones above are certainly as smart as dungarees get. Hardly appropriate for shovelling out the pigs and miles from Ray Winston’s ‘Daddy’ get-up in Scum. These are dungarees for the aesthete. They’re for wearing while eating an organic egg with sourdough soldiers. Perfect for attending a gallery opening in a Hackney railway arch, or lurking around Pop Brixton with your vintage Leica trying to look profound.
There are a bunch of other colours and styles in the drop too. You can check them all out here. I love the idea of the ‘orange naval’ and the ‘survival yellow’ and full respect to the menswearist who can pull them off, but they’re too much for me. At the price they are (I’m not saying, I don’t want the responsibly of giving you a coronary) I don’t think I’d get sufficient price-to-wear ratio out of them. I love niche menswear. But the men who would wear dungarees niche is going to have to forge on without me.