Ohmygod no. Ohmygod totally. Ohmygod I love ahht. I sometimes listen in on my girl’s Zoom calls. They all speak like that in fashion. Ohmygod, Ohmygod… The words bound so tightly — miniature detonations of habitual punctuation, precursing everything. They all do it. I especially enjoy the prenounciation of ‘it’ as ‘ahht’; a sort of mash up of vocal fry and west London posho.
Three girls walk ahead of me. They laugh as the passing cars kick-up roadside puddles. They’re all wearing the same giant fluffy sandals. Black and matted, fake fur dragging on the tarmac. All three of them identical.
It’s interesting what people will do to fit in.
Blue chore jackets. Everyone’s got one and this jacket looks much just like other jackets. But look closer and you’ll see. The sashiko stitching. The variations in texture. The pocket finishing. It’s actually not like other jackets at all. Subtle sure, but this is what happens when you try to eke out your difference in the margins.
It’s interesting what people will do to stand out.
At a frankly terrifying £1,185 such difference doesn’t come cheap. This is Porter Classic, the clothing arm of the nylon rucksack people. Unfortunately, you don’t get Porter Classic in the UK, which makes any prospective purchase of this already exorbitant garment a proxy servicing, import dutying wallet-smasher. Still, there’s no harm in looking.
This particular ‘French Jacket’ is part of Porter Classic’s ‘Kendo’ collection. Cutting and pasting the garment blurb from Digital Mountain into Google Translate reveals little:
“The finish is light and soft and impressed with the comfort.”
“An item that has an outstanding presence and plays an active role as the center (sic) of styling.”
A trip to the brand’s collection page, reveals even less — just a product code and a price. Although you can at least gawp at the full range; beautiful, beautiful examples of menswear standards, any of which a man of clothes would cherish.
While beyond the means of most (myself included) it’s pleasing to recognise such garments exist — out there, somewhere, worn by just the lucky few. Still, £1000 for a chore jacket? When did that start making sense? Maybe it’s just the price of individuality in these absurdly homogenised times?