This is Bode. You know, the NYC design house that dusts off vintage textiles, quilts and other haberdashery and reshapes them into contemporary shapes. The brand’s been popping up more frequently of late, at more and more retailers.
But while its rarity decreases, two elements remain unchanged. Its wallet strangling cost. And its nuclear approach to style. Case in point — this corduroy over-shirt and trouser combination. Seemingly derived from the Book of Genesis via a live-action LEGO movie. This is clothing as an assault weapon.
Assuming you don’t care who’s caught in your splash damage, this combination is locked and loaded for the more courageous dresser. Sure the top features modish pop-over stylings and a pocket just begging for a pair of specs. While the trousers have a pair of bum pockets and arguably entirely superfluous tie-cords at the waist. But the details and even the cut takes a backseat to the overbearing and frankly egotistical fabric. A man with the stomach for this get up is basically saying that your outfit sucks. More than that, he’s saying every other outfit on the planet that contains a man sucks.
Don’t get me wrong. While I could entertain wearing the top, the trousers are, for me at least, ten steps and a short boat ride too far. But I’m thankful we live in a world where someone, somewhere presumably has the stones to take these on.
I mentioned earlier that Bode deal in vintage fabrics, and typically they do. I’m not sure of the provenance of the fabric here though. It’s not explicitly mentioned over at retailer Union, which makes me think that with Bode’s apparent expansion has come a more frequent use of contemporary cloth. I’m not certain as there’s little indication of cheaper fabrics in the price. At $580 for the shirt and $728 for the trousers this represents the kind of expensive that few can stomach. Indeed, while I could imagine picking up the shirt (after massiver sale reduction) the trousers could surely only find a home on the most intolerable of braying Fulham ‘rah’. Perhaps to be worn on the night of Johnson’s inevitable victory, while raising a glass to the continued underpaid servitude of nurses, the police, the fire department and other such bothersome types.