When a dude is lucky enough to be invited along to a gathering of twenty or so girls, his steez is inevitably going to take back seat. They’re not there to hear the storied history of a Filson Mackinaw Alaska fit vest. The lineage of… Read More
You know when you’re standing in a bar wearing baggy ecru cords? And no one else is wearing baggy ecru cords? Do you feel like a lord or a lord of cocks?
When you’re prowling around in a hat with a big lace on the top, there can be a number of outcomes.
For the serious garbsman, there’s little worse than when some well-meaning soul asks if you got your new kit from H&M. Or Topman. Or Zara. Or, in this regrettable instance, Jack Wills.
Like, doctor’s shoes and shit? I’m pretty sure these are worn by dudes who sweep up all the spilled organs and tummy-pipes in operating rooms. You know, porter dudes, looking all swag, carrying around binbags full of lungs. And probably evil 1970s nurses, who smile… Read More
For a brah like me, the whole world is a beach. In many respects, the last place a beach is, is an actual beach. I don’t need sand, waves, crabs and Cornettos. I simply live in a way that combines reckless spirituality, an unorthodox appreciation… Read More
