What I’ve learned so far.

Ever since I was little, I’ve always, always, always loved clothing. Growing up in Virginia, the weather and climate allowed me to experience all manner of rain, heat, humidity, snow that a boy my age can. Influenced by the movies at the time, coupled with my need to hide away from my peers, made me obsessed with the garments that would be doing that job. I watched anime where a pilot would sit inside a giant robot, protecting him from the reality of the dangers just outside his door. I watched movies of underdog kids playing sports, with the uniforms and the protective gear being my favorite parts. I would watch music videos, not necessarily for the music itself, but watching the artists use clothing to help portray the type of person they would need to be to live the lyrics they wrote. Would Master P be able to make them say Ugh while dressed like Mr. Rogers (RIP)? No.

I went through many, many, phases and styles before finally settling on what I currently believe will be the uniform for the rest of my life. I remember my mom bringing my older brother and I to Burlington Coat factory for everything I wore during my early childhood. My mom was of the belief that the way a person dresses garners the attention they deserve, so it was collared shirts and slacks for us. I wore, what I later found out, some of the most coveted 90’s garb a millennial hipster would kill for today. My mom gave me nothing but Tommy Hilfiger and Ralph Lauren to wear on a daily basis, always a few seasons late and very very discounted. I guess she was influenced by the WASPy, pro-rich, anti-poor, neo liberalism of the 80s. Nevertheless, it made me appreciate dressing better than the other kids. I started to, also, pay attention to the words I found on the tags of the clothes and the embroidered symbols on the upper left part of my chest. BRANDING. I started to find out that a golf polo from Lacoste and Polo were different and albeit better than the ones being sold anywhere else. When my mom asked me if the garment she picked looks good to me, I would always ask, “What does it say on the tag?” It was her fault. My mom created a monster. I refused to wear anything unless I approved of the brand first. The shoes? “Are they nike?” The jeans? “Are they Tommy?” Back then, at the start of the relationship the United States had with China, there was a clear distinction in quality between one brand and the others. Even though most of what I wore back then WAS manufactured in China, legit Ralph Lauren was in a space of their own compared to a knock off or non-branded garment. That was my childhood, informed by the preppy and neoliberal tendencies of the 80’s and 90’s. I watched. I was finally paying attention to the voices around me and not just looking at what they were wearing. I gravitated heavily towards rap, to the chagrin of my parents. I was, at first, attracted to what the artists wore. They were wearing the very same brands I fell in love with. Of course, they were wearing the garments completely different than how I was wearing them. My first encounter with what others would call “style”. How you wear the garments, even if they’re the very same clothes you have, is what differentiates you from other people. If we both wore golf polos, I would probably be tucking mine in while you would double up and pop both collars. Style. It never even occured to me to not follow “the rules” when it came to dressing. Double the size of my polos? Wear my jeans baggier? A tee shirt peeking out from beneath my crewneck sweatshirt? Amazing. In a sea of kids wearing the same brands, even the very same garments, I’m able to stand out. Look at me, my chinos are huge, wearing air force 1’s, double polos AND a tee shirt underneath?, along with a New Era fitted and waterproof military backpack. Fuck yea. Can’t stop me. But now, the door is open. I saw these famous people wearing the same brands as me. But what about the other brands? The ones that I don’t know about. What was Starter? What was Champion? Timberland? Never heard of it. Wu Tang has their own clothing line? What? Was that even legal? It was a hard no from my parents. Disappointing, yes, but I figured that it was for the best. I was more comfortable modifying the stuff I already have. I didn’t want to risk standing out so much that I get hammered by the wrong kind of attention.

Moving forward to the latter part of high school, I was completely lost. I made the mistake of following trends as opposed to sticking with what I know. I was no longer wearing preppy, “proper” clothing, even if I was wearing them “all wrong”, I was no longer in my comfort zone. I was playing around on a piece of wood with wheels screwed on, paying way too much for it, and going through shoes like it was my business to puncture holes into them. I wore plain tee shirts of solid colors. The colors were always muted or military in nature. The same was with my warmer garments. Crewneck sweaters from champion and Russell athletic or Hanes. Jeans by Levi’s, KR3W, or CCS, a skateboard mail order business. I no longer cared about looking presentable. The brands I wore were specifically “core skate brands”. I even gave up nike as a sacrifice to the skate gods. I gave up my blood, sweat, fear. Back then, I was scared of jumping down stairs, me being of smaller stature than the other boys. But now, I was hucking my self down staircases, not by jumping, mind you, but by rolling approach using a wooden board with wheels. No broken bones, thank god. But, during all that time, my early relationship with clothes was always there, lingering, at the forefront of my memories.

Going into college, as a millennial, made me reconsider how I looked, now that I’m “no longer a kid”. I wore tighter Levi’s, I wore University centric hoodies and crewnecks, boat shoes or vans eras. But it wasn’t enough. It felt like I was missing something. This is boring. This can’t be all there is to my new uniform. Slim jeans, boat shoes, no socks, hoodie? No. I refused to believe that this boring shit is the only thing I’ll be wearing for the next decade. I started hitting the internet. I was obsessed. I was looking for anything and everything that would help me in my search for more of….I don’t even know what I was looking for. What was it? Tumblr. I finally reached this weird corner of the internet. Tumblr. If any of you are old enough, you would remember tumblr as a cache of inspiration and references, first foray into porn, or just a place for you to paste your favorite things without the fear of judgement. I saw it as a bastion of style and a rich collection of what I was finally looking for. Menswear. I didn’t know that there was a line between what boys and men wore. I saw the different styles and garments on tumblr. It made me hungry. I was fucking ravenous for more. Not to own or buy, at first, but to just look. The way the models were put together was amazing. I didn’t know most of the brands, and I didn’t care. It was so new, that, just looking at the photos was enough.

Until it wasn’t. Looking and soaking in the styles took its time in my brain. But then, just seeing wasn’t enough any more. I needed to feel. I needed to touch these garments. I wanted to know what it felt like being so put together that other people would stop and consider themselves for a tiny bit. Making others self-conscious about what they’re wearing. I wanted that type of power. I wanted that type of self assurance and self confidence. Maybe that’s what it was. The models I looked at were able to feel confident therefore it made them seem confident. It was no longer a decision to be made, but an action to be taken. I needed these garments. These clothes. These things that, I believed, would make me a better person than I am. I no longer cared about anything else.

My daily uniform now consists of urban utility, gorpcore, techwear, or whatever you want to call it. I just call it being prepared.

Now, I wasn’t that stupid to think that these things were gonna be cheap. I didn’t fool myself into thinking that this transformation would be fast. All I knew was that I needed money, a good job, and a clear vision of what I really wanted. Now, I am, right now, not saying that I’m some jaded old fucker on my last legs of creativity, drinking shit beer and thinking that everything in the past was way better. This isn’t a cry for help or a yearning for the past. I love what the future brings and what else designers have to come up with. I still love clothing and shoes. I still have that same hunger I had 20 years ago. It’s still there. Don’t mistake me for anything else. But my hunger, back then, was insatiable. After college, I took the first job that found me. 25 years old, and the company that hired me thinks I give a shit what they have to offer when it comes to fulfillment, family, friendship, comradery and all the other bullshit corporations vomit out to new hires to make them work harder for free and at a wage level akin to slavery. I wasn’t stupid. My hunger for style kept my focus on the clothing. I need to look and feel better. I truly believe that the way you dress that day will inform how the rest of the day will feel like. Do you feel fresh and clean with that strong ass outfit? Today was gonna be a good day, then.

My adventure into this new territory started. Thom Browne. Engineered Garments. Japanese selvedge. Short trousers. Oxford cloth button downs. Combi and fun shirts. Clarks shoes. New balances. Nike killshot. Jordan 1 lows. Common projects. I saw the value of good quality. Even more so than the experiences that I had as a kid rummaging around Burlington Coat Factory. I saw tags saying Made in the USA. Made in the New York. Made in Japan. Made in Los Angeles. My choices became even more constrained. Not only was I only considering certain brands, but questioning where these garments are made. Tumblr was just feeding me with information. The authors I followed then, people just as hungry as I was, are still active today. The people I met during this time are still there for me. My mentors teaching me the proper etiquette of interacting within the industry. Mentors I still personally text today

Today.

I don’t feel any different. My passion is still as strong as it was 3 decades ago, hence the name of this blog. It took me 3 decades to be able to make, what I believe to be, are good choices. I still have brand loyalty. Over the past 20 years I was wearing Supreme tees and hats; Engineered Garments blazers, pants, shirts; Nike sneakers; Made in USA New Balances: Clarks boots and shoes; and, to me, what I think is the most important part of my wardrobe: Gore tex outerwear. I seem to always find items that have the material in it. Clarks wallabees? Yes. Nike dunks? Yes, Vans? Yes. Jackets. Pants. Hats. You name it. I have gore tex in some form or other.

So what is the point of all this? The story telling. My choice in clothing. My style informed by the internet.

Getting older, for some reason or other, the more prepared it seems I need to be. Like someone once said, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.” I took that to heart. There’s a small chance of rain, even though its nice and sunny with a calm breeze. Gore tex windstopper 2L jacket designed after the miliary made level 5/6 outerwear found within the ECWCS layering system. I never thought it as overkill. Because I never regret what I wear as it rains all of a sudden. 2 hoodies aren’t a jacket, buddy.

Utility is now at the forefront of every garment choice I make. I look good. It’s not an opinion to me. I find being prepared sexy for myself.

I want to end this rant by repeating that I’m not tired, jaded, over this. I am still passionate.

The upcoming articles will be less about me and more about the brands I wear and the people I keep close to me.

I don’t want to unravel who I am today into one or two paragraphs. I know it seems narcissistic, but I feel I deserve more time and space being at the age I am.

Thank you and with much love.