I’m on a self-imposed spending lock. Every item of clothing I don’t buy, takes me that bit closer to being able to afford a garden office. Yep, I know, first world problems, what a cock, more money than sense etc… Well sorry and all that,… Read More
If you had to pick a shirt that captured the restless and excitable ethos of east London’s Goodhood store, this would be it. Just look at this thing. It’s a wearable Mardi Gras; check, leopard, stripe and plain all tooting their kazoos, elbowing their way… Read More
Sun’s out – guns have no place in the equation. If you want to stick a vest on and lope about in your no socks, your thin-leather loafers and your calf-hugging denim, fake-baked, with your big fucking arms swinging about like a zoo creature, then… Read More
Crossing the streams between 007 villain and Thai restaurant manager, we have this number from Norbit by Hiroshi Nozawa. It’s perfectly reasonable to be afeared of the short-sleeved shirt. It’s a limiting piece. You can roll long-sleeves up. You can’t roll short-sleeves down. And for… Read More
Some dismiss it as diet Junya Watanabe, but for me, the Comme des Garçons Homme line succeeds in regularly offering wearable but interesting garments; the Comme DNA still clear and apparent. By eschewing the (over) reliance of aggressive top-stitching, large coloured panels, fractured logos and… Read More
The Hawaiian shirt is a battleground between beauty and ugly where ugly always wins. In the UK, a sunny day brings out the ‘Hawaiian shirt ironists’. Frequently young and thin, they have short hair, moustaches, some kind of Japanese sandals or (ironic) Crocs and a… Read More
