From the unconsciously drab to the unconscionably lean. For a garment so universal, jeans run a remarkable spectrum. In recent memory alone, the denim pant has cycled from laughable ultra-wides, courtesy of 90’s sidewalk botherers JNCO, to today’s similarly hulking, but rather more straight-faced, Needles… Read More
“You must go for a walk”, says my chiropractor, “every day.” He’s is wearing a hazmat suit, he looks like one of the scientists at the end of ET. “I do go for a walk every day”, I lie, as I squeeze past him to… Read More
Yesterday I realised I don’t wear jeans. I thought I wore jeans. I have jeans. But now I can’t remember the last time I actually put any on. I have never seen my father in a pair of jeans. In my formative years I learned… Read More
Can you capture the dusty riddles of the American west in a trouser? Los Angeles denim evangelists, Dr. Collectors are up for the challenge. Even if the results are straight from a Baz Luhrmann remake of Paris, Texas.
I’ve got a love-hate relationship with Mr Porter. For every pair of Yuketens, they field ten pairs of Louboutin trainers. They stock an enviable selection of carefree Kapital, yet their editorials seem obsessed with rules. Slim-suits with roll-necks. Bajillion quid Jaeger-LeCoultre watches. That incessant Mr… Read More
Famously, you can’t please all of the dudes all of the time. There are heritage denim fanatics — the kind of guys who typically shop at Son of Stag or Clutch Cafe. Then there are guys who certainly appreciate the beauty of 22oz rope-dyed denim, but… Read More
