Think I’m wearing jeans? Step away my man. These are denim trousers. Salvage denim trousers. These barbarians are so jumbo, so fucking spacious, they don’t fit the jeans category – not least because there are so many pounds of denim involved, you could knock-up two… Read More
The menswearist in Manchester is obliged to stop by Oi Polloi. I was there last week; it took me three minutes to hijack a new popover. If any guys in the UK embody the contemporary casual vibe right now, it’s the bros that work in… Read More
I don’t like thinking about men’s feet. I don’t like seeing them. Which at this time of year, with the sun blistering is impossible. There are fucking Velcro-strapped, pale, hairy gibbon feet stomping all over London. I hate men’s feet. I hate being forced to… Read More
It’s easy to draw the wrong conclusion when looking at menswear catwalk shows. Take Junya Watanabe’s collection for AW 14. If you examine the following images, you may conclude a number of things. You may feel that jeans covered in patches (like the flowery Clothkits… Read More
When the sun blazes, personal style falls fallow. It’s hardly surprising. Firstly, with only two months of warmth a year, who wants to drop tonnage on papery, summer garb? Secondly, no matter how gauzy your styles, when shit gets tropical, your body weeps like an… Read More
This post disgraces me. I have always considered Birkenstocks a sartorial abomination. A serpent’s seed, the fetid progeny of a demonic bumming between some danish clogs and a pair of Crocs. They’re for people who call ‘thinking about stuff’, ‘spirituality’. They’re for people who ‘like… Read More
