5 years ago, I sat across from Andrew Chen in the back of 3sixteen’s store in Nolita and showed him a hoodie sample I’d been working on; it was a mix of vintage Navy sweaters and something you’d see from Number (N)ine.

He gave me some advice on sizing, production & sampling, and on how to commit to and chase that dream.

I never ended up making any of those sweaters.

Instead, I started writing about menswear and clothes, silly articles about expensive coats, how being a dad was cutting into my #jawnz budget, and how guys are too scared to dress like people did in the 70’s.

Although the dream changed from producing a product to writing about it, the advice Andrew gave me of working hard at whatever I set my mind to stayed the same.

5 years later, almost to the day, I got to sit in that same back office and ask him about his journey as a co-owner of a trusted menswear brand and how they’ve grown it over the last +20 years.

Andrew Chen is not the kind of person who’s going to tell you he always knew 3sixteen would become what it is.

When I sit down with him at the New York store (surrounded by raw selvedge, sample bins, and one particularly beautiful hunting jacket he’s been quietly revisiting), he’s measured, honest, and unbothered by the idea of playing it cool.

He’s a guy who, with co-owner Johan Lam, spent over two decades making things he believed in and ended up building one of the most quietly respected names in American menswear.

I asked him early whether he thought the brand would ever become what it is.

ANDREW

“Of course not. No. I remember every milestone that Johan and I hit. One milestone was his ability to take a salary. The next step was for me to be able to take a salary. After that was hiring our first employee, getting our first office space, and moving stock out of his garage.

Opening our first retail store in LA nine years ago. New York, five and a half years ago. These are all big steps.

But at the beginning, we had no idea.”

He pauses, then adds something that stuck with me.

ANDREW

“Starting the brand, it was just important for it to be seen and appreciated by people we didn’t know. We were waiting for the first web store order to come in from an unfamiliar name.

Anybody who’s made anything knows that feeling… I have no idea who this is. How did they find out about it. That’s so cool that they bought it.”

From t-shirts to selvedge

3sixteen started in 2003 with graphic T-shirts, the easiest entry point for anyone who wants to be creative in apparel.

Andrew was in Chicago working at the edges of what he loosely calls “streetwear 2.0”: a new crop of young brands out of New York and LA, created by designers, musicians, and creatives trying to make something you couldn’t find at the mall. They found footing there.

Then in 2008, they launched a full head-to-toe collection of shirts, jackets, fleece, and raw selvedge denim made in the USA from Japanese fabric.

The denim wasn’t supposed to be the centerpiece. It just turned out that’s where they could make the clearest statement.

A relationship with Self Edge, which became a genuine partnership, gave the jeans legitimacy early and connected 3sixteen to mills and producers in Japan that let them level up in ways they couldn’t have managed alone.

About three years into making jeans, they took the next risk: developing their own fabric from scratch.

ANDREW

“Minimum quantities were high. We were worried about whether we would ever use it all at first; it was a little scary to take that plunge. But that was the only way we could truly say that our product was truly original.

No one else would be able to make those jeans because they wouldn’t be able to make that fabric.”

I push him on the question every emerging brand seems to ask itself: Was there a gap in the market they were trying to fill? He’s pretty direct about it.

ANDREW

“I don’t fault any brand for taking on the perspective of ‘this doesn’t exist, so we should make it.’ But at the end of the day, everything already exists. Unless we’re talking about new technology, like someone inventing Uber.

We didn’t bring anything legitimately new to the conversation. A lot of DTC brands will say ‘we looked at the market and couldn’t find it, so we made it.’ And a lot of times it feels very soulless. Like you’re trying to meet a need, and once the need is met, where do you go from there?

But if you look at it from another direction, we liked it. Then there’s a lot of runway. There is tons of inspiration, tons of room to grow.”

Building a wardrobe

One of the things that draws people to 3sixteen is how cohesive everything feels. You can pick up two pieces from different seasons, and they work together; you can mix them with things you already own, and it all works.

It doesn’t feel like a brand trying to sell you an outfit off a lookbook; it feels like a wardrobe that builds on itself. I tell Andrew this. He appreciates it, then explains how much work it actually takes.

ANDREW

“Everybody wants to show you a lookbook of how that season’s stuff works together. But very few people are coming into the store to buy for the whole season. They’re probably buying two, maybe three pieces.

And it has to go home with them, and it has to not only fit in with the rest of what they own from us, but hopefully fit in with the rest of the stuff that they buy that isn’t from us.”

“I can’t see into your closet. But I can hopefully see that you appreciate a certain design perspective.

If you like that we’re into vintage military, if you like that we have a little bit of workwear and western influence that pops up here and there (that strange mix we have) then the other stuff you buy is probably going to work with it.”

This is their Utility Flannel, a relaxed fit workshirt featuring a heavyweight brown flannel fabric with a textured twill pattern. It almost feels like wearing a blanket.

The technical side of that is real; he mentions the idea of an overshirt that won’t bind at the armhole when layered over a sweater, silhouettes that don’t compete, and color palettes that hold across seasons.

There are a few higher-degree-of-difficulty pieces (Andrew mentions the leopard cargos with a grin), but the baseline is clear, and almost nothing in the line asks you to rethink your whole wardrobe to make it work.

I tell him about a friend of mine, an accountant newer to the menswear space, whose wife has started buying him pieces from here for his birthday without even asking what he wants. She just knows it’ll work. Andrew nods.

ANDREW

“We really try to be a resource to people who are worried about how something fits or how something works with their personal sense of style. There are people who come in with a very distinct perspective on how they dress and have no questions. That’s great.

But we have customers who are like, how would I style this? And we love when people ask. Please ask.

We can show you the whole shop; you don’t have to buy any of it, but you probably have something at home that looks like this shirt. We’ll help you figure out how you can wear it.”

Finding your voice as a brand

The brand’s social presence has quietly become its own kind of entry point. I’ve had multiple people send me their (Jean)uary videos, sometimes people who had no idea what 3sixteen was, or even that they made jeans, who stumbled onto a Reel and watched it start to finish.

One of them thought Andrew was just another well-dressed menswear guy educating the internet about denim care.

Andrew takes that seriously. The output and the communication about that output are both in their control and both have to match.

ANDREW

“If I or any of our team members are talking to you on social, it should be in the exact same voice as if you came into the store. That has to be our guiding principle. It can never be different from that.

If we can give you a little piece of our in-person experience through the videos, we’ve done our job. Because hopefully you’ll make it in one day, and you’ll see that it’s consistent.”

The humor in those videos is real. It might start as a joke in the back office, and sometimes it has legs. What it’s never been is an attempt to go viral or build personal platforms.

ANDREW

“It is serious, because it’s how we make our living. But it’s also not serious. And hopefully people kind of get a little bit of that. A lot of these start as just jokes, like “it’d be funny if ______.”

Sometimes the idea has legs, and we just roll with it.”

In 2003 it was underground hip hop message boards and import car forums. Then Hypebeast forums, Superfuture, Style Forum.

Then Reddit with the raw denim subreddit where they’d host jean-fading contests where a group of people all started a fresh pair at the same time, checked in monthly, and posted progress photos.

Andrew describes what those threads actually looked like.

The store has a drawer of aged denim you can ask to see as a reference point. Every jean tells a story and through the fades and patches, Andrew is able to tell me how the jeans fit the person and how they were worn.

ANDREW

“We would post a monthly check-in, and people would take some pictures of their jeans but they’d also be like, this is what happened to me. I graduated from grad school. I took them on a road trip through Big Sur. Just normal, everyday things. If there’s an avenue for connection, that’s what people want.

They want to feel like what they’re into is something other people also enjoy. Maybe where you live, nobody is into your niche interest— but you can find somebody across the country who is. You can talk with them about it.”

Now it’s short-form video, newsletters, and the occasional discovery through an internet search. Andrew says new customers still name new channels every week when they come in and get asked how they found the brand.

The landscape keeps changing but the voice stays the same.

Building a community

The first pair of shoes 3sixteen ever made was a mule. The brief was simple: something cleaner and more streamlined than a Birkenstock Boston, something you could throw on to run to the bodega but also wear to work without feeling out of place.

A connection through their friend Chris Echeverria of Blackstock & Weber led them to a footwear factory in Portugal. There, they described the leathers they wanted, the factory understood, and they made a first run of 100 pairs of natural veg tan and 100 pairs of black.

ANDREW

“The first release flew. They sold out in like two days, and we were like “there’s something good here.” So we rolled out a restock and started doing some seasonal leathers, some hairy suedes.

We did a slate blue one with Mule Boys, they threw a party here where you weren’t allowed to attend unless you had mules on. Obviously we didn’t enforce it, but some people came in with cooked shoes and let us saw the backs of them off.

At a certain point it wasn’t really about the shoes. It was just people coming together to have a good time.”

The elusive side zips. They come in both black and brown leather, and will be available in the coming week.

The boots came next. Lead designer Wes had carried a clear vision for a particular square-toe silhouette for years, they just didn’t have the right manufacturing partner to execute it properly.

When the Portugal factory proved themselves on the mules, 3sixteen brought them the idea.

These might be the most sought after boots in the current menswear space, so much so that when I went to the sample sale I was getting DM’s from random accounts asking if I could pick up a pair for them.

I ask Andrew if he saw that coming.

ANDREW

“No. It was honestly insane. Wes had a very clear perspective on this boot style for years and years, and we just didn’t have a way to make it.

So when we started working with this manufacturer and they knocked it out of the park with the mules, we were like, listen, we’ve had this idea. And they really, really understood. We made a hundred pairs to start, and I don’t remember how quickly the first run sold out. It was quick from the first draw.”

They’ve scaled deliberately and at their own pace. The boots are Goodyear welted, made at a family-owned factory that’s been at it for generations. Other manufacturers have approached them with cheaper builds and the first suggestion is always to move off the welt construction. 3sixteen keeps passing.

ANDREW

“Margin and output are not of interest to us when we’re making this category. We make it because we love it and because we want customers to have things they’re into. But it’s also not easy.

For brands to be able to wholesale and make a ton of units, you’ve got to make some choices. We’re just not making those choices.”

The next boot drop is coming sometime between the end of June / beginning of July.

Start with one simple thing

We close on value, something Andrew feels clearly, but frames carefully. He doesn’t want to be in the business of convincing anyone their stuff is worth buying.

What he is interested in is the person who’s already decided they want to invest in something and just needs help knowing where to start.

ANDREW

“My advice would be: pick the one thing that really means a lot to you. Something you wear every single day. If you’re obsessed with sneakers and you have no problem spending money on sneakers, then it makes sense to get a nice pair of shoes.

Something versatile that you can wear all the time but is really made well. Not a mall shoe. Something where they make it in house, start to finish — not a footwear designer, but a footwear producer.”

“For some people, it’s gonna be jeans. You wear jeans every single day and you’ve never really thought twice about it, but how come they fall apart every six months and you just go buy another pair?

What would it be like if you just tried on a really nice pair of jeans? And then go to that maker, or that brand, or a retailer that carries that brand, and ask. Just be like — the pair I have cost forty bucks. The pair you’re selling is two-fifty. That’s a big difference. What’s happening here?”

He walks me through what the answer to that question actually looks like.

ANDREW

“Our markups are way lower than luxury brands. We need to produce our goods at a price where we can accommodate wholesale, because we have wholesale partners and they have to be able to buy it and still sell it for profit.

So there’s margin built for that. But if you talk about the luxury brand selling a thousand-dollar pair of jeans…there’s a point where the product cannot get more expensive. After that, it’s markup.

And it’s not disingenuous or wrong for them to have that markup, they need to pay for magazine ads, billboards, celebrity placement, stylists, all of it. We don’t do those things. So the bulk of it goes into the product.”

I tell him about a friend who went to Self Edge to buy his first real pair of jeans. He walked in skeptical, walked out completely converted, having tried on three pairs before landing on the one the staff had already pulled for him before he even asked. Andrew smiles.

Some of the team that makes it happen, from design to social media to in-store consulting.

ANDREW

“There are absolutely no AI chatbots behind our info emails. These are real people guiding you through and trying to decipher, without even being able to see you in person, what’s going on. Because we know the product inside out. We may not know you, but we can try and figure it out.”

“Some people just view jeans as a utility to fill a need. But other people want to buy from a brand that’s into the things they’re into, and espouses similar values, or sees life through a similar lens.

We printed these zines, just to help people understand what’s important to us. That stuff costs money. And no, you don’t have to pay for it, we pay for it. But it goes into helping an end customer understand more about who we are.”

Twenty-plus years in and 3sixteen is still making things they believe in, still talking about those things the same way they always have.

Just before we wrapped up, he said the thing that stuck with me most.

ANDREW

“At the end of the day, it’s just jeans and tees and boots and jackets, and you can get them elsewhere. You come to us, hopefully, because you mess with the way that we do it and not just for a product in a white box.”

Editor’s note

Major thanks to Andrew & the NY team for being so hospitable. Visit them online at 3sixteen.com or in person at their New York and Los Angeles stores.

Also special shout out to Dan Chen for holding it down with the camera shoot that day. You can support his work on his Instagram @feelslikedan or on his site.

A visit to the source

Patagonia continues to fascinate me.

From its early fleece innovations with Polartec to its unimpeachable staples like the Patagonia Baggies, Stand Up Shorts, Retro-X, Synchilla, and Nano Puff series. And while the brand intentionally avoids ballooning its SKU count season after season, it’s constantly trying to shrink something else: its environmental footprint.

Whether through regenerative organic cotton, the Worn Wear program, or simply encouraging customers to buy less altogether (courtesy of its accidentally iconic 2011 “Don’t Buy This Jacket” campaign), Patagonia somehow manages to make restraint feel radical.

Patagonia was kind enough to invite me to their HQ in Ventura. And while I wouldn’t call Patagonia a small company, it still operates with the feel of a lean, family-and-outdoors-first business.

There’s on-site childcare, philosophy classes for employees, and the kind of culture that sounds made up until you hear it firsthand.

One employee told me that during a seminar, they sampled a cheap chocolate bar alongside an expensive one, then had to explain the difference in quality and how that mindset should apply to the brand. Which is incredibly insightful, or the most Patagonia way possible to discuss textiles.

That was just a small taste of the experience. The cafeteria alone felt like it could’ve been outsourced to the Hillstone restaurant group, it’s that good.

During my day at the house Yvon built, I went surfing for the first time to test Patagonia’s upcoming improved wetsuits, combed through archival pieces, visited the material lab, previewed the FW26 collection, and walked through the original Great Pacific Iron Works shop.

Somewhere between all of that, someone finally explained the meaning behind Patagonia’s line, “Earth is our only shareholder.”

Oh, and by pure luck, I also met Yvon Chouinard himself, who casually told me which jacket he’s most excited about right now.

Early one morning

I went surfing, and let me tell you: wetsuits are a motherf**ker to put on. It was my first time getting on a board, learning about swells, and trying to decode all the lingo (like point breaks and choppy versus dumpy). In between eating shit a few times and getting absolutely humbled by the ocean, I learned about one of Patagonia’s more slept-on categories: wetsuits.

The water was around 50 degrees Fahrenheit (about 10 Celsius), and this thing kept me warm. The brand is rolling out new and improved versions this fall, with a reengineered fit for added flexibility and extra thickness for warmth.

There’s also a U-zip entry that makes it way easier to get on and off. It’s made with NetPlus (100% recycled fishing nets) and backed by a lifetime warranty.

I’ve also learned that wetsuits aren’t cheap, but they’re kind of the MTM suit equivalent for surfers. You can tweak the fit, make repairs, and keep them dialed in for years.

Patagonia’s repair program lets you send in wetsuits from any brand to its Wetsuit Repair Forge for tears, fin cuts, holes, cuff replacements, panel repairs, and zipper fixes, with an estimated 8-week turnaround.

More than anything, it’s further proof that Patagonia actually stands behind the idea of making products that last a lifetime.

Subscribe now

Into the archives

Patagonia’s archive is the kind of thing that fascinates people who were wearing the brand back when it was still called Great Pacific Iron Works, and it’s also become a gateway drug for a new generation discovering the label through secondhand dealers and vintage obsessives alike.

Although Patagonia has no shortage of pieces worthy of archival status, the company has only been doing this in a formal way for a little over a decade. It started with former employees digging old jackets, fleeces, and forgotten grails out of their garages and bringing them in to help build a home for the brand’s history.

Now, some of those same employees oversee the entire archival process, deciding what deserves preservation and what becomes part of Patagonia lore.

While I couldn’t get into the full-fledged archive room, they did bring out ten pieces for us to handle and inspect. Seeing the quality up close made it easy to understand how those older garments informed today’s designs.

The Retro-X, for example, originally used wool and a much heavier membrane, whereas the current version has evolved into a recycled wool blend with a lighter, more breathable recycled membrane.

Progress is beautiful, sustainability is great, but Patagonia, if you’re listening: please bring back the Range Coat. That thing is absolute outerwear perfection.

Where the magic happens

On my one-day tour, we briefly stopped at the Forge, where new products and collections are dreamed up, tweaked, and occasionally sent back to the drawing board. Then came the Color Lab, which feels equal parts science experiment and mad-genius workshop, the kind of place where real innovation happens.

Inside, they’re testing everything from waterproofing and abrasion resistance to color matching and how fabrics break down over time, so they don’t break down on the customer. It’s like a stress test for clothing—all to make sure consumers can own, repair, and extend the life of a product for years.

Standouts from FW26

Being a product-obsessed enthusiast, one of my favorite parts of the day was getting a preview of a few standouts from the upcoming FW26 collection. Design Director Carrie Childs walked us through the textiles, while Senior Color Designer Sasha Ritter explained the research trips that inspire the prints, all of which are designed in-house, never outsourced.

At one point, she mentioned that one print was inspired by a group of penguins huddling together. Then Mark Little, Senior Director for Lifestyle Essentials, guided us through the rest of the collection.

The Nano-Air collection is expanding into all kinds of outerwear territory: hooded jackets, button-down overshirts, even vests. The material is absurdly good. It’s lightweight, moisture-wicking, and somehow insulates like crazy without making you feel overheated.

The whole idea is temperature regulation, whether you’re layering up for a summit push, jogging, or hanging around base camp.

They’re also doubling down on down, from Yvon Chouinard’s favorite durable down hoody to ultralight options. Everything uses 100% responsibly sourced down with 800-fill power.

My favorite piece was the Lightweight Down Sweater Cardigan, which reminded me of the Engineered Garments x UNIQLO collab from a few years back, especially with its military-inspired utility details. It’s cool seeing them lean further into more fashion-forward SKUs while still keeping the performance side of the equation intact.

Who owns Patagonia

Back in 2022, you probably saw this quote flooding the news cycle: “Earth is our only shareholder.” People thought, Cool, a billionaire doing something good with his earnings, but what did it actually mean?

This was the last stop on my day-long trip to Patagonia’s HQ, and I appreciated someone from their comms team sitting down with us to explain it.

Before the restructuring, Melinda and Yvon Chouinard were essentially playing Santa Claus each year, writing checks to various environmental causes. But once they declared Earth as the company’s “shareholder,” they were able to completely restructure Patagonia.

The company is now owned by Holdfast Collective and the Patagonia Purpose Trust.

Holdfast Collective is a collection of nonprofit entities that owns 98% of the company and all nonvoting stock, while the Patagonia Purpose Trust owns the remaining 2% and all voting stock.

As a 501(c)(4), Holdfast Collective uses every dollar it receives to fight the environmental crisis and protect nature and biodiversity.

Funding for Holdfast Collective comes directly from Patagonia. Each year, excess profits—the money left after reinvesting in the business are distributed as dividends to Holdfast Collective to fund its work.

So instead of the Chouinards writing a handful of large checks to a few environmental or agricultural causes at the end of the year, this new structure allows Patagonia’s profits to continuously support a wider range of initiatives.

Leave a comment

Picture this.

You’re at your local coffee shop, grabbing a pea milk cortado during the morning rush, and the guy in front of you is wearing a pair of KEEN Jasper Zionics.

Less so in a “just got back from an early hike” way, and more so in a “just grabbing a coffee, mate” kind of way.

Or you’re at a natural wine bar, late, and in the corner of your eye, there’s a girl reading with a glass of wine, cigarette in hand, and approach shoes on her feet.

Meanwhile, the nearest mountain is nowhere in sight.

We call that the “approach shoe effect.”

And that’s the thing about approach shoes right now; they show up everywhere they technically have no business being, but nobody seems bothered by it.

But more importantly, this didn’t happen by accident, and it’s not because of Prada or Loewe.

Gorpcore’s influence in a post-sneaker world

For the last few years, outdoor gear has been on a slow march into everyday dress. Gorpcore gave it a name, and it was all about the irony of dressing like you’re prepared for the elements, when you have no intention of engaging them.

Trail runners like the Salomon XT-6 were part of the first wave, along with Arc’teryx soft shells.

It was about chunky soles, bright, neon colorways, and silhouettes that felt more like objects or collectibles.

But over the last couple of years, gorpcore has gradually become part of people’s daily uniform. The aspiration is less about wearing something as a flex and more about whether it blends into your life.

We’ve seen this with brands like Vancouver-based HAVEN or Tarvas Footwear from Finland, both of which are designing incredible products.

They have this crossover between form and function. Creating items that are built for the elements, indeed, but designing them to feel acceptable in all settings and environments.

Subscribe now

Ultimately, it’s a way of distancing oneself from the irony of it all.

This is where the approach shoe enters the chat.

Functionally, it’s a shoe you traditionally wear to “approach” a cliff before switching into climbing shoes. And it works because it’s stiffer than a trail runner, built with a rubber rand around the toe, has a proper lacing system that runs all the way down for a lockdown fit, and it has good enough grip to handle uneven terrain.

But the broader shift underneath this is that being physical, capable, and hands-on carries a different kind of status now than it did ten years ago. When most of life moved to screens, the people who were visibly doing things in the real world started reading differently.

Climbing, hiking, cycling, these aren’t merely hobbies anymore; they’re identity markers too. The gear that comes with them signals something about how you move through the world, not just what you do on weekends.

The rise of the approach shoe

KEEN has been making the Jasper since 2008. No single campaign launched it into the culture, no singular fashion moment manufactured it into existence.

It was adopted by climbers first, who liked it for functionality’s sake.

Then it was adopted by people who liked how it felt.

Now it’s liked by people for the way it looks. It just sort of stuck around, which in footwear is the hardest thing to do.

It’s important to remember the context because of how everyone wants their own approach to shoes. Village PM has built strong credibility here, and their product is good.

Puma went back to a 2003 archive style and recontextualized it.

Loewe made one in royal purple.

Prada launched one at $1,100. The logic is the same across all of them: borrow the silhouette, apply the branding, and let the cultural moment carry it.

But Bouldering gyms have grown 76% across the US in the last decade, and climbing has become what cycling and running were, a city sport with a social layer, its own aesthetic, its own community.

The people coming out of those gyms aren’t looking for fashion shoes, necessarily, but they’re also not opposed to a shoe that works in the gym and works walking to dinner afterward.

The approach shoe answers that.

A lot of the newer players in this market are overindexing on footwear design by using “creative references.”

But the KEEN Jasper has a purpose and use.

When Prada makes an approach-adjacent shoe, they’re recontextualizing the idea of function. KEEN never had to recontextualize anything, because they are the context.

And the Jasper Zionic operates similarly. It’s cleaner and lighter, but it carries the same DNA, updated for how people actually move now, across cities, into gyms, up crags, and back to the coffee shop.

And while people don’t have to use a shoe for its intended purpose, if it respects the original intention in its design, that’s paying homage. That’s a harder line to walk than it looks, and most brands that chase a trend don’t have the foundation to do it.

While most brands launching into this space right now started with a mood board, KEEN started with a real, practical use, something that compounds over time. They don’t need to chase a trend to keep pace because they’ve already done the work.

And that’s something no other bra nd can simply copy and paste.

When you think of Australia in fashion, you might not be able to rattle off hundreds of brands the way you could with its continental counterparts. Still, there’s a steady buzz from down under.

From heritage heavyweights like Blundstone and R.M. Williams to more seasoned Aussie players like P. Johnson and Song for the Mute. Not a crowded room, but definitely not a quiet one either.

There’s also a Melbourne-based design studio that would like a word: Observe. Founded in 2020 by siblings Massimo and Alessia Acquaro, “When we came together with the idea of designing clothes during COVID, partly because we lived together and just wanted to hang out, it created a strong balance,” Massimo says.

Observe keeps modularity at its core, favoring pared-back designs and silhouettes that actually move with you. Each collection is intentional, with no urge to chase trends just because they’re trending.

The name itself comes from the duo’s university days, where they spent time “observing what people were wearing, who stood out, and, just as importantly, what felt overdone,” Massimo explains.

For a young brand, their cohesion is dialed in. Materials carry across garments, textures that can be lived-in, and pieces from different seasons are interchangeable. They’re also not trying to overwhelm you with a flood of SKUs. As Massimo puts it, “I think there’s a smart way to grow where not everything has to be a hit classic—you want to spread that across seasons.”

Blending a kind of Scandinavian technical sensibility with their Italian roots, Observe is just getting started, but it already feels like they know exactly where they’re going. We caught up with the co-founder to talk about architecture as a through-line in their designs, how they approach each collection, and, of course, the pieces they’re currently obsessed with.

Tell us a bit about what you were both doing before starting the brand? What kind of experiences shaped how you approached it?

My background is in architecture. Around the time we were starting, I was getting my Bachelor of Architecture at Melbourne Uni, and I’m now completing my master’s, so this is my seventh year.

My sister, meanwhile, was in nursing but decided to switch into digital advertising and marketing, specifically in creative production. She found that it gave her more enjoyment. While she did really like nursing, her personality leans toward social interaction.

She loves expressing herself and helping people, so she brought that energy into creative practice.

I’ve always said she’d make a great producer, especially in film and TV. She naturally knows how to handle a room and coordinate people.

For me, coming from architecture meant bringing more technical skills to the creative process. When we came together to design clothes during COVID, partly because we lived together and just wanted to hang out, it created a strong balance.

I was using CAD to approach things more technically, while we both collaborated on creative direction, sharing palettes and ideas.

We were aligned in not wanting to be overly trend-driven. A lot of our inspiration came from university—observing what people were wearing, who stood out, and, just as importantly, what felt overdone.

I’ve always been especially inspired by my friends and the way they each express themselves through clothing. There’s something about that individuality that really stuck with me.

Architects, in particular, tend to dress in a way that stands out subtly—it’s refined, intentional, and usually avoids loud branding or logos. That sensibility definitely influenced how we approached things and how it all started.

With (Massimo’s) your background in architecture, how did that shape or influence your move into fashion?

I’d say it really shapes your taste, especially your personal sense of what feels cool. Going back to friends and peers, you’re often nudged in a certain direction depending on the kind of architecture you’re into, whether that’s brutalist or something more contemporary and minimalist.

Palette plays a big role, too. It feels like a direct extension of architecture when you’re working with materials like steel, glass, and other stark, industrial elements; things tend to skew more subdued.

That carries over into how you dress: blacks, grays, whites—rarely straying far from that base.

Where it starts to shift is with texture. That’s where fashion opens up a bit more, letting you create variation and develop a broader range within an otherwise restrained palette.

What’s it actually like working together as brother and sister? Does that dynamic make it easier to be honest with each other, or does it come with its own challenges?

I’d say when it comes to working with a sibling, it’s all about brutal honesty.

Sometimes it’s like, “No, no—that looks terrible. Don’t do it again.” And that’s kind of it. But the upside is you get things done so much faster without beating around the bush.

The other thing is you’re constantly around each other, so ideas are always flowing. But you don’t want it to become too toxic (like always talking about Observe, always talking about the brand) because at the end of the day, there’s still a relationship there. You have to respect that the other person needs their own life.

I mean, we travel together… we’re pretty much best friends, and we’re super grateful for each other.

When it comes to collections, how do you approach them?

When we approach a range, we usually start with a theme, whatever we’re feeling at that moment. It might be particular music or movies we’re really into at the time. Since we’ve only been developing and designing collections for about four seasons, that process is still evolving.

One of the main things we do is look back through our archive of older brands and study the details. I always start with outerwear; that’s the foundation for me.

Designers like Massimo Osti are a big influence, so I’ll go through his books and pull out color palettes and technical features.

From there, we build a big mood board. We actually used a lecture theater at uni for this, put everything up on a big screen, all our categories and inspiration images. That’s where it really starts to take shape.

We pull our colors and silhouettes from that setup, write everything down, and then over the next few weeks, we start sketching and coming back with different variations on those silhouettes.

Six years in, what are some of the biggest things you’ve learned so far?

It comes back to staying true to our vision. First and foremost, like I was saying earlier, it’s about staying aligned with the brand and actually believing in it, that’s something we’ve really learned.

There are definitely moments where you feel like you have to sway a bit in order to sell more, or become a certain type of brand just to be “successful.” But going to Paris really reinstated this confidence in us—this belief that who we are will eventually, hopefully (fingers crossed), work.

There’s a lot of confidence in that now.

Within the collections, we’ve also learned a lot about the importance of variation—using the same materials across different garments, creating cohesive pairings, and really focusing on texture. That was a big lesson after our first season.

Looking forward, what does the next five years feel like for you both?

We want to expand the collection, but in a way that feels solid and intentional, not like we’re just adding fluff. We’ve spoken to agents in the past who’ve said, “You need 45 SKUs next season,” and we’re still at around 15.

I think there’s a smart way to grow where not everything has to be a hit classic—you want to spread that across seasons.

That said, we’ve never put anything out that we wouldn’t wear ourselves, and we want to keep that standard as we grow into more stores. We’d love to expand retail, especially across Europe.

We’ll keep being super considerate about where we place the brand. We’re lucky enough to be stocked with Baskèts in Amsterdam this season, and a few great stores in the UK have picked us up as well, like Goodhood.

We’re really appreciative of the retailers who took a chance on us.

A big goal for us now is to transition to working on this full-time once we finish uni—being able to dedicate ourselves to it day in, day out and really build a routine around it.

Up until now, our time’s been split between uni, side jobs, and everything else needed to support the brand.

Last year, I was working at an architecture firm while studying and running this, all while training in athletics.

My sister plays AFL, so she’s balancing training three nights a week—five hours at the club—plus games on weekends, along with studying and working on this. It’s been a lot.

So yeah, one of the main goals is simply to get to a point where we can go all in—working on the brand full-time and giving it everything we’ve got.

Give us a few standout pieces from the SS26 collection.

Our favorite piece from that range is probably the vented jacket. It feels like a piece that carries the technicality of an outdoorsy jacket, but reduced and pared back in a way that feels like Observe. It has this minimalist, very clean front, but within that, you’ve got box pleating and what we call vents down the sides—these are pockets that run all the way up, which is where the name comes from.

It’s also the first time we’ve done pleating at the wrists with snap buttons, really dialing in the arm detailing.

Overall, it’s a beautiful jacket. And the neck latch adds something special—it’s that outdoorsy, technical piece with a slightly formal twist, giving it a more refined, almost classic look up top.

Another design cue we brought in this season is the Cambia. “Cambia” means “change” in Italian, and we’ve applied it to both a shirt and a pair of denim pants.

Each piece features a Cambia button on the side that lets you adjust the width of the sleeve or the leg.

It’s a simple idea, but really functional. For example, if you want to wear sandals with your jeans without rolling them, or ride a bike in the summer without tucking your pants into your socks, you can just adjust the opening with that button.

It’s a subtle detail, but one we really love and keep coming back to.

Bonus content

We interviewed them during Paris Men’s Week last summer (2025) in case you want to learn a little more about Observe. Watch from second 0:35 onward.

It’s been a minute since I’ve properly worn a suit. I came up in the #Menswear era, a period we should have boxed up in a time capsule to study later on.

Double monks, floral pocket squares, tie clips, slim fits, and a revolution supported by bloggers with Dwyane Wade as the spokesperson. It was a special time.

Then the suit became obsolete for obvious reasons.

But while an uninformed contingent still beat their chests under the cry that the suit is done (typing from their phones in a pair of Travis Scotts they overpaid for on StockX), the reality is that it never went anywhere; it simply evolved.

Sure, we (the consumers) temporarily traded things for it. But in our disappointment, we returned to it.

Of course, there remains a time and place for some to wear traditional suiting in their day jobs, but for most, wearing a suit is still a rarity, which is completely fine.

People are still investing in suits. And with wedding season upon us, it’s important to show a range of options for you, whether you’re the one getting married, in the bridal party, or simply attending one.

Obviously, everyone’s budget range is different. So, with that, we’ve put together a suit guide in 3 categories, which you can find below.

The goal here is to present you with options from independent (mostly) brands we love.

We hope you find this useful, and let us know if you end up buying anything!

Note: this is part of our paywalled shopping guide series.

We hope you like the free content we share enough to keep supporting us as an independent style publication!

Read more

From January 11th - March 1st, I was locked in every Sunday at 9 p.m., and not for the slow-drip NFL games. I was tuned into the best show on TV: Industry.

The series runs the full financial-spectrum gauntlet: fresh grads clawing for permanent roles at the fictional bank Pierpoint, a buzzy green tech company racing toward an IPO, and a fintech startup that begins as a payment processor for adult content before pivoting into a full-blown fraudulent banking app.

It’s full of ambition, ego, and bad decisions in very expensive suits.

I’ve been an early adopter since it first aired on Monday nights back in 2020, which makes its well-received flowers feel especially satisfying.

From Lena Dunham executive producing and directing the pilot to the show pulling in just ~70,000 viewers early on (one of HBO’s lowest-rated debuts), the “best show on TV” label wasn’t handed out overnight—it was earned the hard way.

“Screenwriting, especially, is not like long-form writing,” says co-creator Konrad Kay. “I love novels and all that, and my favourite novels, like my favourite film and TV shows, are ultimately about voice, but on TV the demand to hold attention is much faster and more unsparing.”

And that he and co-creator Mickey Down have absolutely done.

Whether it’s the “oh shit” moment of a character launching themselves off a building to evade police or the chaos of Stern-Tao, or where you’re bracing for whatever deeply unhinged scenario Whitney Halberstram is about to rope Sir Henry Muck into—the show never really lets you exhale.

The writing and character development are razor-sharp. As Kay puts it: “It won’t be for everyone.” There’s no middle ground. No polite “it’s pretty good.” It’s more like, I hate that shit, or I love that shit. And honestly, that’s the point.

Beyond the acting, there’s the soundtrack—frenetic, moody, and somehow always exactly right, blending British synth-pop with artists like Jimmy Whoo, Beach House, and Okay Kaya.

And Kay is also a low-key menswear guy—often wearing vintage Ralph Lauren on set and stepping out in Giorgio Armani for press.

He’s currently co-writing the show’s fifth and final season, which shoots in August. Kay was kind enough to chat with us about HBO serving as his unofficial film school, his real-life experience in banking, and what he’s planning on copping for the series wrap gift.

When the show first started, it felt like one of TV’s best-kept secrets. Now it’s regularly called “the best show on TV.” What’s it been like watching that shift happen in real time?

It’s been fun, man. I mean, I think one of the best-kept-secret aspects of it was that it was a UK-accented show. We made it in Cardiff, and it aired on Monday nights on HBO. There was a marketing push, but it wasn’t a big one.

The real shift happened in season three, when we moved to Sunday nights at nine. Because it became a Sunday-night show, HBO’s marketing arm really put more muscle behind it. And, obviously, we brought in Kit Harington, who was already a TV star, along wi

th Max Minghella.

When the show started, we had no famous people behind the camera or in front of it. It was a tough sell—super jargon-heavy, very British-accented, really just mine and Mickey’s voice, with a huge amount of slang. To us, that felt like good writing—a well-realized ecosystem with a strong sense of voice, even if that voice was a bit daunting for audiences.

Over time, though, all of those elements evolved. And I think we just got better at writing the show. We were so green when we started. The great thing about TV is that it’s iterative—you can be diagnostic from season to season, figuring out what works and what doesn’t.

It’s almost like DJing: you recalibrate the levels between seasons. You might push emotionality one season, or lean into plot another—like we did in season four. Now, in season five, we can look back and ask: across these four seasons, what’s the best version of this show? What’s the through-line that represents it at its strongest?

People talk about the show in really flattering ways, saying it’s one of the best of the past few years, which is amazing. But Mickey and I came up during a golden age of TV, when shows like The Sopranos and Mad Men completely dominated the culture. Everything existed in their shadow.

Our show isn’t like that. It’s messy. It’s imperfect. Those shows feel almost flawless, even with the occasional lull—they’re incredibly close to perfect works of television.

Ours is more like a high-tone experiment in form and creativity that got to mature into a five-season HBO Sunday night event.

Before television, you spent some time working in investment banking after university. What exactly was your role, and what’s the wildest thing you saw during that time that later made its way into the show?

So I basically sold U.S. equities to Dutch pension funds and hedge funds. I worked at Morgan Stanley. When they published a note on, say, Apple stock, I’d call my Dutch clients and say, “We’ve just put this out on Apple. We’ve upgraded it to a buy. I know you have it in your portfolio—I think you should be buying more.”

That was literally my job.

But I didn’t really do it much, because I was scared of picking up the phone. So I just… didn’t.

In terms of the autobiographical elements of the show, season one is probably the closest to mine and Mickey’s lived experience—being graduates, coming into work hungover.

You know, everyone knows what that’s like: doing too many drugs, enjoying being young, abusing your body because it can take it.

As the seasons went on, it obviously became less autobiographical. But the DNA of a lot of the characters is still drawn from composites of people we’ve met or are friends of ours. It’s a pretty closely observed show, especially in terms of London subcultures and different types of people.

So, Rob from the show wouldn’t get on the phone. What was your real-life experience that kind of tied into his character?

With Rob, it’s tricky, because both Mickey and I are baked into these characters. I’d actually say Yasmin and Harper are a real mishmash of our personalities. It’s not a perfect analogy for our relationship; it’s not that toxic, but there’s a lot of us in them.

As for me personally, the closest comp is probably somewhere between Greg and Rob. Greg was writing his screenplays at work, and getting called out for it; that was me. Rob being scared to pick up the phone, that was me too. And that general, vertiginous terror of going into work, not really knowing your place, having a bit of an identity crisis, that was all me as well.

This most recent season opened with some literal bangs. What were the early conversations like around the strap-on scene in episode one?

They’re always pushing us in that direction. Which is great—they’re very supportive of our vision. Now that we’re five seasons in, there’s a level of trust. They give amazing notes and stay incredibly engaged, but it’s usually framed as: if you want to do this, walk us through the thinking.

Once they understand it, they’re on board. Or they might say, maybe push it 20% more this way or that way. And honestly, they’re often right—what feels clear in your head isn’t always clear on the page.

At the end of the day, all of this is a huge act of faith. No one can see inside my head or Mickey’s, and even realizing what’s in our own mind’s eye is inherently flawed—you’re never going to fully get it there.

So trying to communicate that to executives and actors becomes an act of will: trusting that what ends up on screen is going to work. But at this point, there’s enough proof of concept with the show that they believe we know what works.

Season one, though—that’s brutal. It’s a constant existential crisis about what the fuck you’ve made. No one knows what it’s supposed to feel like. And I’ve realized so much of this is just about communicating emotion.

This season also draws some interesting real-world parallels, especially with Yasmin Kara-Hanani (Marisa Abela) and the comparisons people have made to Ghislaine Maxwell. How did you approach writing around that kind of real-life scandal?

Good question. I mean, to be honest, the Ghislaine thing was never a conscious decision. What we’d do is notice there was some analogy there. For example, the boat storyline in season three, the “Lady Yasmin”, came from wanting Yasmin’s dad to die on a boat.

That’s why there’s a Maxwell echo. It wasn’t like we were trying to tell the Ghislaine Maxwell story; it was more like, “This could be a fun Easter egg.” We’d name it “Lady Yasmin” as a nod, but that was it.

We never set out to write her as a direct parallel. She’s her own character, written by us and embodied by Marisa. There isn’t a clean, biographical one-to-one, like a Wikipedia entry.

She moves through the world because the story requires it, and because the performance shapes it. To say we were always writing her as Ghislaine Maxwell would flatten both the character and the performance.

That said, it would be disingenuous to pretend the connection never crossed our minds. Of course it did, and we made choices that might make that analogy obvious. But it’s too simple to say it’s a one-to-one retelling—because how could it be?

It gets at something more complicated. You could sit down with someone like Ghislaine Maxwell in prison, and she would probably have a compelling narrative about her own victimhood, even though she’s also an abuser. People construct stories about their lives that make sense to them.

It’s not as simple as, “I did something evil, I’m entirely to blame, lock me up.” That’s not how people experience themselves.

It’s nurture, nature, the system someone exists in, and the random events that shape a life. That’s part of the tragedy of it. But there’s still agency. You can’t absolve someone of their choices.

You can’t just say, “My past explains everything, so I get a pass.” That’s something the show wrestles with—like when characters call Yasmin out on it. You can choose how to be in the world.

Your life is the accumulation of those choices, and you can’t always point backward and say, “I was hurt, so now I get to hurt someone else.”

One thing fans always point out is the show’s soundtrack. The song choices feel incredibly specific. Why is music such an important part of storytelling for you?

It comes down to a few things. Mickey is obsessed with that side of it—honestly, more than I am. That’s really him, Ollie White (our music supervisor), and Nathan; they’re the secret sauce behind all of that.

It goes back to my earlier point: emotionality. Music is, ultimately, an emotional cue for what a scene is about.

Sometimes we’ll even think of the music before we write the scene, and it shapes how the scene plays—how much dialogue there is, or how little. It can sort of “lead the witness,” guiding how the audience experiences what they’re watching.

In season one, a lot of the success—even what helped paper over some of the cracks in the filmmaking or storytelling—came down to having a really strong composer who could energize the scenes. For me, it’s really about mood.

You and Mickey have known each other since you were 17 and have been working together on the show for about 10 years. How has your relationship and writing process evolved over that time?

I think it’s been pretty similar to the day we first started writing together. We ideate a lot. We’ll sit there with a Google Doc open and just talk our way through the scenes we need to hit.

When we break an episode, we map out what’s going to happen, then drill into each scene: what the characters actually need to say to each other, and the story points we have to land.

From there, I might write a scene, or he’ll write one, and we’ll overwrite each other’s work. Our writer’s room and its consistently diverse skew of voices and POVs has been invaluable in breaking story, while our team of consultants helps keep the show sounding authentic.

That same collaboration carries through to set, into directing, and into editing. Our process is very aligned.

Honestly, if our taste levels and our gut instincts weren’t 90–99% in sync, it would be a much trickier process. But because what he thinks is good, I usually think is good too, creative differences are pretty rare.

It’s not like he wants to be Michael Bay, and I want to be something completely different—that would probably be an issue. We just want to make good entertainment. I’m not as interested in navel-gazing, overly artistic cinema.

It has a place for me in my overall cultural diet, but it has to be entertaining.

You’re competing with people’s phones now, right? So when people sit down on a Sunday night, I want them to be blown away.

Switching gears a bit—what does your typical on-set fit look like these days? Any brands you’re particularly into at the moment?

I wear pretty utilitarian clothes on set. At the moment, I’m really into vintage Ralph Lauren, especially Polo Sport stuff. I also wear a lot of Arc’teryx and other mountaineering gear on set—just really comfortable, practical pieces.

I’ve been obsessed with these shoes from a brand called Reese Cooper. They’re kind of like hiking trainers, and I wear them all the time. For comfort when I’m writing, I like Palace—their tracksuits are really nice.

Day to day, I mostly keep it pretty simple. The most represented brand in my closet is probably Our Legacy. Also, mfpen and Auralee, if I’m feeling like treating myself. I think their stuff is phenomenally good.

One of my favorite brands right now is Carter Young. Carter and Adam are fucking lovely guys. They make this thing called the Patti T-shirt, which is incredibly nice, along with really strong Western shirts. Just really excellent across the board.

And when you’re doing press, does the tailoring get dialed up, or is it more like an elevated version of your usual go-to style?

I can tell you what I wore when I was in Berlin. I wore Carter Young denim with Reese Cooper boots and Shiro socks.

I also wore Lemaire jeans, which I loved; they were green, along with a Giorgio Armani cashmere jumper and a Stone Island leather jacket.

After you got the call for your first renewal, did you treat yourself to anything? And for the upcoming final season, what are you eyeing?

I bought myself a 1988 Rolex Submariner.

I’ve been in the same flat for 13 years, so maybe I should stop buying clothes and move to a new place. That’s a decent wrap gift.

Become a Sprezza member

A crew of countercultural climbers called the Stonemasters took up residency in Yosemite National Park and effectively reinvented the sport. They ditched the heavy gear and the old methodology in favor of something faster, cleaner, more fluid... free climbing, before anyone was calling it that.

Their reference points weren’t other climbers; they were the likes of Bruce Lee, Jimi Hendrix, and Carlos Castañeda. And the attire became a new kind of uniform: painter pants, army surplus fatigues, and whatever else moved well.

One of them, Mike Graham, decided the clothes still weren’t right. So he built his own, pulling a diamond-shaped gusset from a pair of kung-fu trousers for full range of motion, integrating a nylon webbing belt borrowed from backpack design, finishing the whole thing in hard-wearing canvas.

In 1982, after a few years of selling his handmade wares to friends, Gramicci was born, named after the fake Italian nickname Graham had adopted when the Stonemasters staged a fictitious “all-Italian ascent” of Half Dome. Might’ve been a joke at first, but the name stuck.

By the early 90s, spotting a pair of Gramiccis on the streets of Shinjuku wasn’t unheard of. As with all American brands and products, the Japanese understand how to import and care for those products better than Americans ever could.

It was eventually sold to a Japanese company (its new home there) and has been operating from Japan ever since.

The thing about Gramicci is that it was born out of solving a specific problem. A weird blend of kung-fu, mountaineering, and workwear, baked into a universal solution that appealed to everyone.

Climbers wore it. Skaters wore it. Tokyo wore it. And in 2026, they opened a new popup space tucked inside the Netil House in London Fields’ Hackney neighborhood.

I had the pleasure of visiting recently. There’s a climbing wall, a large LED screen set up for screenings and viewings, and furniture designed to be moved or cleared out entirely, depending on what’s happening that week.

But in general, it’s the kind of space that more brands should center their products around… places that make you feel welcome to dwell, not just transact.

The space was conceived by Stevie Gildea (Gramicci’s UK & EU Brand Manager) and the team behind Wisdom & Effort, who run Gramicci’s UK and EU distribution.

We sat down with both to explore the shop, ask about how you build something you can’t quite describe, and perhaps entice you to pay them a little visit the next time you’re in London.

PS - big thanks to Meara Kallista for the great photos on this shoot!

PPS - their new Hackney space is temporary, so go hit it up and tell them I sent you! They’re open all summer and have some bangin’ pieces from the new collection. Plus, they’re constantly hosting events and community gatherings. Well worth the visit.

Addy here: 2 Netil Ln, London E8 3RL, United Kingdom

You’ve talked about having boxes of climbing magazines from the 70s and 80s, like ads that were fun, an independent vibe, dozens of small brands doing interesting things. Gramicci was born right in the middle of that era. What do you think you guys understood then that most outdoor brands lost along the way?

Erik: Climbing was a bit more of a counterculture back then; it attracted lots of interesting characters. Since the scene was so small, a lot of the technical innovation was DIY-driven, with people running their own small brands, having fun, and trying things.

When the scene grew, lots of companies became big businesses, and big businesses are usually really boring.

I think Gramicci managed to stay intact by growing slowly and staying true to their core products, rather than branching out into other activities or trying to be too innovative.

And most importantly, not taking themselves too seriously.

Gramicci is a California brand with an Italian name that’s been run from Japan for decades and is now opening flagships in London. That’s a strange geography for a brand to hold together. What is the connection between all of this that keeps Gramicci coherent?

Stevie: On paper it sounds strange: California roots, an Italian name, shaped by Japan, now showing up in London. But the connection less geographical and more cultural.

Gramicci has always traveled through people rather than markets. Japan didn’t just “run” the brand – it deeply understood it. It gave Gramicci an appreciation for quality, longevity, and everyday wear that still respects its roots.

London makes sense because it’s a place where subcultures overlap, where climbing, skating, fashion, music and art constantly cross over.

The coherence comes from values rather than aesthetics: freedom of movement and space for interpretation. Those ideas translate anywhere if you don’t force them to look the same.

It’s clear from visiting the Hackney Space that it isn’t your typical retail store designed for selling clothes, so what was the brief for the new Gramicci Space? Was there something Gramicci wanted to do differently?

Erik: Yeah, it was all about “build something we can’t fully describe” and we nailed it… because we still can’t describe it.

It was about how Gramicci can build the brand in London, we want people to interpret Gramicci in their own way and having somewhere that facilitates that is what the Hackney Space is.

The book, the store, the campaigns; those are three very different formats for telling the same brand story. What does each one let you do that the others can’t?

Erik: One you can step inside. One you can read in the bath. One you scroll past really fast. With this in mind one can tailor the message to do different jobs in each format.

Gramicci is a brand that has cultural references to 90s skate & street culture, how has it managed to maintain such relevance long term?

Stevie: Gramicci’s relationship with skate and street culture was never forced. Skaters adopted the clothes because they worked and because they didn’t scream for attention.

That kind of relevance is harder to manufacture but easier to sustain. We haven’t tried to constantly “update” the brand to chase trends. Instead, we’ve focused on staying authentic to the things that made it useful in the first place.

When you leave space for people to reinterpret the product through their own culture, the brand stays alive without you having to shout about it.

“Keep it vague” has become a tagline for Gramicci. How do you apply that to a brand with a defined origin story without flattening it into something predictable?

Stevie: For us, “keep it vague” doesn’t mean being unclear about who Gramicci is. It’s more about not over-explaining it. The brand has a very clear beginning, but we don’t feel the need to keep spelling that out or turning it into a fixed formula.

Once you start telling people exactly what a brand is and how they’re supposed to read it, it kind of stops being interesting. It becomes closed.

With Gramicci, we’d rather let the story sit in the background and let people come to it in their own way. The important part isn’t the details of the origin, it’s the attitude behind it… freedom of movement, usefulness, not trying too hard.

Those things stay consistent, but how they show up can change depending on who’s wearing it and where they’re wearing it. So being vague is really about leaving space.

If someone comes to Gramicci through climbing, that’s valid.

If it’s skateboarding, music, or just how the clothes fit into their everyday life, that’s just as valid. We’re not trying to control the interpretation; we’re trying to give people enough to connect with without telling them exactly what they should be seeing.

What is it about the Hackney Space that makes it feel very Gramicci to you, and why?

Stevie: It feels Gramicci because it isn’t trying too hard to prove that it is. It’s practical first – you can climb, you can watch a film, you can use the space – but it’s also comfortable with contradiction.

There’s a looseness to it, a sense that things could change tomorrow, which feels honest to how the brand has always evolved. It’s not precious, it’s not perfect, and it doesn’t tell you exactly how to behave when you walk in.

That freedom is probably the most Gramicci thing about it!

When I finally pulled the trigger on a Paynter jacket, it was their Batch 19 raglan.

Upon opening the package, I was amazed at how much thought went into the whole presentation. There was the jacket, but also a map of the Isle where fabric was woven, along with photos of the sheep, the mills, and weavers who worked there. The inner patch was gorgeous, and their little care notes were filled with whimsical illustrations.

I proceeded to talk about this coat over and over again to anyone who would listen. A coworker of mine couldn’t understand how (or why) I’d spend $700 on a coat and so I started sending her photos of everything: the coat, the map, the photos they included. I forwarded her the email updates I got from Paynter with videos of the whole process.

I told her about their strategies to minimize waste and only produce what was needed for each batch. And her response at the end was perfect: “I can’t believe you got me to care about a jacket so much.” She even hinted that she would like to own one herself in the future.

In a world where customers are so removed from the stories and people who make their clothing, Paynter has gone all in on making the story as much of the product as the product itself.

I got to talk with Becky and Huw and what was supposed to be a 45 minute call became a 2 hour hangout. I wish I could include all of it, but for the sake of time here’s what stuck.

Back in 2021, Sprezza sat down with Huw and Becky at the drop of their seventh batch. Their first had sold out in 14 minutes.

Their second in 3. They were two people making limited-edition jackets in quarterly drops, building in public, and betting that customers would wait — and care — if the story was worth telling. You can read that original piece here.

When I asked Becky to describe what’s changed since then, her answer was clear:

BECKY

“We’ve always made limited edition jackets in Batches, and we’ve stuck to it. In a way nothing has changed - our jackets are still limited, with a story to tell and a point of view. We always take customers behind the scenes so they see them being made’. But behind the scenes, so much has changed, we’ve grown up as a business, quality gets better with every Batch and the systems we’re built on are like night and day compared to Batch No.1.”

Huw added what I think is the more important context — what it actually takes to operate this way as a company of two:

HUW

“You’re managing production, doing the design, doing the customer service, setting up fulfillment centers in three different countries, managing taxes... compared to other brands, it looks like we’re doing bugger all.”

Up until this point I had no idea it was just the two of them behind every batch, every email, every instagram post. A month before this conversation, they hired their first part-time employee. They also had a son nine months ago.

Their pace is intentional, not lazy.

BECKY

“I think it takes us at least a year, probably, from the very first sketch of an idea until something’s in production. And sometimes it’s longer — which is actually a massive bonus. If we love the idea when we first ask our factory to develop it, and we still love it a year in, then that product has longevity. We’ve got time to keep improving. We don’t want to ever make something and think that the next version will be better.”

These three photos were printed and mailed to me alongside the coat. Seeing where something comes from, and who made it, really solidifies the bond to that thing.

The making-of updates that Paynter sends during production have become one of their most recognizable things, and my favorite part of the process apart from receiving the coat itself. Videos from the factory in Portugal, photos from fabric mills, even voice notes from their contact Sergio on the floor. I asked when the decision was made to make that a core part of the brand.

BECKY

“Batch 1 sold out in fourteen minutes, and it was wild. We never thought that would happen. And I think it was that day that it hit us — we’ve got 300 customers now, and they’re waiting eight to ten weeks. So we went over to Portugal during production and videoed as much as we possibly could. And Sergio from our factory would take a product outside, into the sunlight, take a picture of the latest updates, and WhatsApp them to us. Sometimes he sent voice notes that we’d share with customers.”

One thing Becky & Huw did repeatedly was mention people that they worked with by name, but not the way you would a coworker, more like how you’d call a friend. Shortly after talking about Sergio, they mentioned a videographer they worked with named Vitor who worked 40 minutes from the factory in Porto and would ride over to shoot footage in real time. They mentioned Ian, one of the weavers who helped make my own coat. The relationships and stories they tell bring you in on the journey.

The storytelling has gotten bigger and more complicated, but the spirit is the same as it was at Batch 1.

HUW

“If we had a store and someone came in and picked up a piece — it’s exactly what I’d want to tell them. That’s the starting point.”

The result checks out: return customer rates run around 60 to 70 percent per batch. And occasionally in more unexpected ways. They told me the story of a customer of theirs who had briefly corresponded with them via email who knit and mailed two hats, a jumper and a blanket for their son. She was based out of the US. The Paynter customer feels like they’re a part of the bigger picture because of how intentionally they’re kept up to date with the process of every batch.

I asked how they even find these stories in the first place — the weavers, the mills, the details that end up in those emails. Huw’s answer was clear:

HUW

“You have to visit. The best stories come from visiting. Going to the Isle of Harris and Lewis and actually talking to Ian the weaver, having tours of everywhere, seeing behind the scenes — you learn about what everyone does, how old everyone is, their temperaments, their story. We wouldn’t have known our corduroy was brushed 64 times if we hadn’t gone there and asked.”

You don’t find that detail in a press kit, and I think that’s the whole point.

That kind of obsessive attention to process doesn’t stop at storytelling. It shapes how they think about everything — including the part of the conversation most brands treat as a marketing checkbox.

Sustainability is a buzzword that’s thrown around too loosely nowadays. I asked how Paynter stays credible when the word has been used so much it’s started to mean nothing.

HUW

“We don’t talk about it. We just do it. If you go onto our website, we don’t talk about sustainability much. We’re not making any promises. We think our business model is a potential solution — everything’s made to order, so there’s less waste. You go to some mills and they’ve got 50,000 plus meters of fabric left over. You go to archive sales and it’s just warehouses full of clothes that haven’t sold. That is like a nightmare.”

BECKY

“We make as many as we sell. We order the fabric for that batch. There’s no extra. And we hope that by letting people see how something is made, they’ll take much better care of it. It will last longer in their wardrobe because it matters to them. We don’t say we’re a sustainable brand — that’s not the first thing that should be interesting. The product should be inherently good.”

And then Becky said something that I keep coming back to — a distinction that’s quietly at the center of everything Paynter does:

BECKY

“The word value is so interlinked with price and being a low price, whereas actually value is surely personal. It’s what it means to you. It can be so inflated with meaning. Value doesn’t mean budget. It means sentiment.”

The inner patches are a part of the coat itself, along with the care instructions and small details found with the packaging.

Every Paynter batch has a label designed by a commissioned artist. The brief is always constrained: 76mm × 76mm (the same size as the Post-it note the business was originally sketched on), two colors, a few anchors inspired by the New Yorker masthead. I told them I spent close to twenty minutes with the map illustration that came with my Raglan. Becky explained the thinking:

BECKY

“We never actually told anyone about the limited edition label with Batch 1. That was one thing we kept as a secret surprise when it was delivered, because we always like to hold something back and send a little treat. They now are part of the things we share about the jacket in advance, because they’re a huge part of it for us too. We’ve got a massive folder of artists and designers we’d love to work with and commission artwork for one day. Sometimes we’ve got a story in mind and we look through that folder and wonder who feels like the right person to commission each time.”

For their most recent batch, the brief was about influence, the layers of references that go into a single coat. American hunting jackets, British fishing jackets, workwear, fly fishing. Huw described it as a jazz band riffing: without the drummer, the bassist has nothing to play off.

HUW

“We needed to find an artist who was essentially a musician as well. We found Max Kisman, who’s based in Amsterdam, 72 years old — our most senior label designer. He loves music, plays in bands still. He came back with something really playful, quite abstract. It was perfect.”

BECKY

“It’s a very unusual canvas. Very few projects are 76 by 76 millimeters. You can only work in two colors. Amazingly, most of the time when we reach out to designers, people do want to do something.”

I have the map that came with my batch in my living room now, trying to flatten the edges to get it framed nicely. It’s not just a patch or promotional packaging, it’s genuine, intentional artistry included in every shipment.

Paynter drops roughly four times a year, with micro drops in between. With the growth they’ve seen, I asked what keeps them from ramping it up.

BECKY

“Truthfully, from a conscience perspective, we don’t want to make an unnecessary amount of things. But more to the point — we couldn’t work harder than we do. And we want to do very few things, really well made, that we have a lot of passion about and can communicate that energy to other people. I went into a retail store in central London a few weeks ago and just came back feeling a bit sick. So much stuff. One clothing brand nearby us just came back from Paris and showed a collection of 600 pieces. That’s like 60 years of Paynter.”

HUW

“We’re both runners. We love long distances. We kind of bring that energy into the business — we want this to go for a long time, so we need to keep our tempo really consistent. If we sprint, we’re going to burn out. We’d never sell, because what we’re doing is what we’d want to do. Why jump ship?”

Paynter has two things dropping in the near future that I think you should know about.

First, a quilted vest, but not the kind you’re picturing. Made by the world-class Italian outwear specialists Olmetex, this water repellent twill fabric is lightweight, quick-drying, and easy to care for. It’s inspired by 1960s mountaineering outerwear made from high-quality cotton and nylon with a luxuriously soft showerproof finish and recycled viscose lining. The double zipper is a nice touch. This goes live on May 1st.

Microbatch vest and the original Raglan, soon to be brought back.

Later this year, the Raglan returns with a twist. I can’t give too much away, but this quote should be enough to keep you hooked:

BECKY

“Three raglans of the completely same silhouette and cut, but three completely different stories to tell.”

You’ll have to stay tuned to find out more.

I think as time goes on, there’s this expectation that brands have to scale to grow bigger and bigger. What I find refreshing about Paynter is that instead of making more things and telling you to buy more and more, they’ve found a way to produce jackets and vests and shirts that are so good you don’t need to purchase anything else. Throughout the interview itself, and even once it ended and we just kept rambling, I loved hearing how Becky & Huw genuinely believe that we don’t need more okay things, we just need a few really good things to keep around for a long, long time.

I can’t wait to see what the future holds for Paynter, and I hope when we get to chat again that I’ll hear the same thing about their process: “In a way nothing has changed.”

Thankful to Becky & Huw for making time to chat and explain their process. One important thing to note: For the past year and a half, Paynter orders have only been available to newsletter subscribers. If the fabric sells out during pre-order, there’s no public launch at all — their website is sold out before most people ever see it. If you’re looking to buy one of their batches, subscribe at paynter.co.uk.

Get access to our shopping guides

For most, it’s a relic of the past, a piece of the wardrobe that’s now retired from everyday life. And look, we don’t need to dwell on the tragedy of casual wear taking over offices or how dress codes have dissolved. It’s gotten bleak, to be fair.

But in the depths of an “it’s so over” with suits, some men are finding within themselves the strength to muster a resounding “we’re so back” with respect to suiting. Less out of obligation and more out of genuine curiosity.

There’s a growing appreciation for craft, for clothes that are made rather than just manufactured, and for the kind of dressing that actually requires some thought. It’s the attention to detail that matters most.

Independent establishments like J. Mueser, whose showroom is tucked away in Manhattan’s West Village, are a big reason why this shift is on its way back.

They work with people at every level, from first-timers who’ve never been measured for anything to veterans with dozens of custom suits in their wardobe.

What I like about their team is how they

1. Treat suiting out of genuine love, not like a costume you use to flex on others.

2. Are less concerned with the transactional side of selling more suits, and more about teaching people how to think about them

Because on the second point, they know that when they’re doing their job educating people first, they can easily sell more down the line.

This spring, we wanted to invest more in helping you understanding tailoring, so we the J Mueser team to create a mini playbook that will help you understand the mechanics of finding a suit that works for you, whether or not you visit J Mueser for that.

If you want to get access to our 2026 suiting, dropping next week, tap in!

Get access to the guides

I’ve never done this before. What should I wear when I come in for my first appointment, and what do you need from me to get started?

For your first appointment, we’d recommend something similar to what you may actually wear with a suit or sport jacket.

A button up shirt is a good place to start and give the fitter an idea of how you wear your clothes and where a jacket sleeve should hit. Probably the most important is footwear. But if you plan to wear your suit with loafers, wear a loafer.

If you’re imagining it with a pair of cowboy boots, that’s a very different consideration and one we want to make sure we account for.

What’s the actual difference between bespoke and made-to-measure, and how do I know which one is right for me?

The difference is pretty simple. For made-to-measure an existing block is modified based on your measurements and posture. Bespoke involves a completely unique, drafted pattern, multiple fittings, and a ton of handwork.

Our bread-and-butter Waverly line of tailoring lies somewhere in the middle, a uniquely hand-drafted pattern made on a small production line at our sartoria in Naples, Italy.

For the first commission, we do a basted fitting, which adds a couple of weeks to the initial turnaround but ensures the pattern fits the client as close to perfect as we can get it.

How do I describe what I want if I don’t know the technical terms? Like, can I just show you a picture of something I like and you tell me what’s realistic?

We have plenty of clients come with photos or even entire Pinterest boards, because it’s a uniquely drafted pattern, we can do almost anything, from different button or pocket configurations, to a multitude of shoulder constructions.

With that being said, our house style is a typical Neapolitan construction, which is a lightweight cotton canvas, a very soft natural shoulder, and a high-rise, straight fitting trouser.

We encourage everyone to come with whatever ideas they have, and if it seems unrealistic, we’ll let them know.

I’ve heard terms like lined, unlined, half-lined. What should I actually be asking for, and does it depend on where I live or how I plan to wear the jacket?

It’s all about climate and feel. There’s something very nice about an unlined jacket. There’s a lot of handwork that goes into finishing all those seams, and they do tend to wear a little easier.

We’d definitely recommend it for something like a breathable wool fresco or Irish linen to take full advantage of the cloth. A scratch Harris tweed? Maybe that gets a full lining.

What’s a break in the trousers and how do I decide what looks right on my body versus what’s just trending right now?

There are no right answers with custom clothing; no absolutes or hard rules. Maybe some of your wool trousers you like the drape of a full break, but a cotton or something that doesn’t really drape you want to hit just at the top of your shoe.

It doesn’t have to be the same across your entire wardrobe and your tastes may change over the years.

That being said, we believe the thing people will generally be happy with and feel relatively trend-proof is a slight break to no break.

Walk me through what happens at the first fitting versus the second. What are you looking for each time, and what should I be paying attention to?

The first appointment is the consultation; no garment yet. We take your measurements, walk through the cloth library together, and make all your design decisions: structure, lining, lapels, trouser details. We also just talk. How you live, what you’re building this for, how you carry yourself. All of that shapes the pattern we draft for you.

The second fitting is the basted fitting. The suit arrives loosely assembled with temporary stitches so we can still open and adjust everything. It looks rough, which is intentional.

We’re checking how the pattern translates to your body: shoulder, chest, back, seat. Move around at this fitting. Sit down, reach forward. Tell us what pulls or doesn’t feel right. Every correction here refines the permanent pattern we keep on file for you.

The third fitting is the finished garment. It’s often ready to go right out of the gate, but just as often our in-house tailor handles the final refinements, shortening the sleeve a ¼”, maybe nipping the waist a hair, small adjustments that make the difference between a suit that fits and one that looks like it couldn’t have been made for anyone else.

Once we’re satisfied, it’s yours to take home.

If something doesn’t feel right during a fitting, how do I communicate that without sounding like I’m telling you how to do your job?

We’re communicating constantly as we fit: “how does this feel?”, “does that waist feel tight?” If something isn’t fitting right, it is often pretty visually obvious, but if there’s something we’re not seeing, just mention it. We’re not too sensitive.

How much does my body type actually change what you’d recommend? Like, if two guys walk in wanting the same suit, how different would the end results be?

Two guys walking in wanting “a navy suit” might end up with very different shoulder widths, lapel widths, chest suppression, trouser rises, and silhouettes… all to achieve the same effect on their respective bodies.

Someone with a shorter torso might need a shorter jacket length and higher button stance. Someone with broader shoulders might want softer construction to avoid feeling like a linebacker.

What are the most common mistakes guys make when they come to a tailor for the first time?

A few things; probably the most common is not allowing enough time. A custom suit can’t be made in a week, in fact it probably needs about 8-10 weeks. So make sure you’re not waiting until the last minute.

Another issue we sometimes run into is clients will rely too heavily on novelty, asking for contrast buttonholes, novelty lining, or crazy details. Our goal is you end up with a beautifully fitting suit that you can wear for decades to come, and we want to limit anything that impacts that.

If I’m building a wardrobe from scratch with you, what’s the first piece I should invest in and why?

For a first suit, we almost always recommend navy… ideally in a cloth versatile enough to be broken up and worn as a blazer when the occasion calls for it. A navy high-twist with flap and patch pockets works beautifully here: sharp enough as a suit, relaxed enough as a separate.

If traditional wool feels too formal for your life, or you want something that can move between the office and the weekend, consider a navy cotton twill instead — press it for a wedding, wear it rumpled with jeans on a Saturday.

Give us your feedback if you have any to add!

Leave a comment

Subscribe now

Where I went in Paris last week

I’ve been to Paris many times before, and twice in the last month. But as it turns out, I am often there for work during fashion weeks, which means the city is infiltrated with bi-coastal elites who flood the wine bars, tobacco shops, and vintage stores in search of that je ne sais quoi.

But my last two visits, both 12-24 hours long, were fun moments that let me slow my experience down and visit spots I’d otherwise not have time for, so I’m ungatekeeping a few of them here.

Keep in mind, this is neither a complete guide to Paris nor is it meant to cover the whole city. It is simply my experience spending time in the Marais (mostly).

More tips over time, but this should be good for now!

Shopping

Husbands Paris (tailoring)

If there was a store that could revive the wearing of the suit in public settings (bar, Drake’s of London), these guys would be the ones to do it. The tailoring here operates in a kind of parallel timeline, as if you’ve stepped on the scene of a Wes Anderson film.

Silhouettes are considered, proportions are interesting, and the staff treat you like a person rather than a transaction. I left genuinely reconsidering my relationship with structured clothing.

Distance Athletics (running)

Distance has built something that feels closer to a concept store than a performance retailer. Their own objects and apparel sit alongside collabs and limited-run goods,

They also have outposts in Lyon, Copenhagen, Tokyo, and Iten, which tells you something about the community they’re building and the creative eye they have for being a globally-minded brand.

But they keep it 100 and have an independent spirit to everything they do, no matter how big those ON or Nike bags may be.

Yvon Lambert (books + art)

Walk in for the books, stay for the cocaine and heroine salt+pepper shakers. That’s the move at Yvon Lambert. The selection is vast, ranging from art and romance to photography and color theory, and it’s genuinely one of the better places in Paris to stumble across something you didn’t know you needed.

Ofr. Paris (books + art)

Perhaps an even greater book shop than the one above, Ofr. is the kind of shop that makes you want to read more, make more, and think harder about what you’re putting into the world. The magazine and book selection is obsessively curated, and the gallery component gives it a different weight than your average cultural retail space.

And as one friend told me when we walked out, “the owner is a hardcore socialist who figured out how to make money.”

Sums up the French, I’d say.

Merci (multi-brand retail)

This is an absolute mecca visit to make when in Paris. Merci has been doing the French countryside aesthetic long before it was a reference point for everyone else. The store’s full-range retail format (clothing, objects, home goods, its own linens, and pottery) works because it’s both coherent and comprehensive.

There’s no doubt we’ve lost the art of the department store, but curated retailers like Merci still offer hope in a sea of terrible curation.

Underrated item: the tote program. Slaps. Especially these minis.

Nuovo and Erem Vintage (vintage)

Both shops punch above their weight in terms of selection. If you’re looking for old Prada, Margiela, Calvin Klein, or Céline at a price that doesn’t require a conversation with your accountant, these are the spots.

The edit is tight and the quality holds up… not the kind of vintage rail you have to dig through hoping for luck. Worth budgeting time (and some euros) for both.

Disclaimer: I was here with my partner, so we didn’t quite manage all the menswear shops I’d have liked to hit, but if you’re keen on vintage, a couple that are worth the vist are: BRUT and Rêve de Gosse.

Buttes Snack Bar (wine bar and restaurant)

This is a proper natty wine bar (for those who partake) with a dinner menu that changes often and hits every time. Mussels in harissa bouillon, gochujang wings, and one of the few places that could persuade me to eat asparagus.

The kind of neighborhood spot that makes you wish you lived around the corner. Don’t forget to bike downhill after dinner and you can see the Eiffel Tower twinkling in the distance.

Bambino (listening bar)

I’d heard about Bambino before I went, which sometimes works against a place, but not here. The room is doing Tokyo jazz cafe meets London club, and the food (charcoal-grilled, a little unexpected) holds its own against the atmosphere.

The sound system is serious, and the vinyl wall is immense. By Friday at 11, it turns into a dance bar, and it’s all downhill (in a good way) from there.

Dreamin Man (coffee)

Dreamin’ Man may be one of the more talked-about coffee shops recommended when you go to Paris, but it’s far from performative. The owners are no-nonsense, focus on the craft, and the more I visit Paris, the more it becomes my default spot to anchor a morning around.

Long live Dreamin’ Man.

I’m fully aware that Paris rewards the slow visit. Not the fashion week sprint or the 24 jaunt, but this is a nice little hit list to explore as a baseline if you’re in a time crunch.

Let us know what we missed!

Leave a comment

Note: this was also posted first on another newsletter, Hyper, last week. Link is here.

NOTE: While this piece is in partnership with Birkenstock, the framing in this article, along with the title and POV are mine; nothing was dictated by the brand.

I feel like there’s a version of every person’s style journey where they eventually come around to Birkenstock. Where, at some point, you put on a pair and realize, “oh, this is what a shoe is supposed to feel like.”

It’s one of those brands you discover through wearing, not through marketing. And once you get it, you kind of can’t go back.

They commissioned me to unpack the brand’s history, which is a fun full-circle moment for me, considering I’ve been wearing Birkies for well over a decade now, and the shape of my foot outlined in that cork footbed is a testament to just how loyal I’ve been.

But when I think about what keeps pulling me deeper into the brand, it goes far beyond how the product looks.

The foundation

The Birkenstock family has been making shoes since 1774, which is a flex in its own right.

That’s 250 years of studying how the human foot actually moves, but the real turning point came in 1902, when Konrad Birkenstock invented the first contoured, flexible footbed, essentially the blueprint for how we think about arch support and weight distribution today.

He literally coined the term “Fussbett,” which the rest of the industry adopted. The idea was to replicate walking barefoot on natural ground, sand, grass, and soil in a world increasingly covered in concrete and hard floors.

But what’s wild is that same footbed is still the foundation of the products they sell. They didn’t abandon it, outsource it, or license their brand elsewhere.

Nope. Every footbed is still produced in their own German factories. Over 90% of their products are assembled across six owned facilities in Germany, with each shoe passing through more than 50 pairs of hands. If they can’t find the right machinery for a process, they design and build their own.

In an industry that’s outsourced nearly everything for generations, Birkenstock stayed put.

How culture found them

All of that context makes their rise into the culture more interesting to me.

They began to build a name and brand for themselves by making sandals, and in the late 60s, those sandals arrived in the US in the late 60s through a woman named Margot Fraser, who discovered them in Germany and started selling them through health food stores in California.

The counterculture picked them up immediately. By the 80s, the Boston clog, which turns 50 this year, had become a staple on college campuses across the Midwest.

Kate Moss wearing Birkenstocks in a 1990 editorial for The Face is still one of the most referenced images in fashion.

In ‘92, Marc Jacobs put altered Arizonas in his grunge collection for Perry Ellis, the show that got him fired and launched his career at the same time.

Every subculture that adopted Birkenstock did so on their own terms. Nobody was convinced. The shoe just worked, and people kept finding new ways to make it theirs.

The collaboration blueprint

This is where it gets genuinely impressive.

In 2018, Rick Owens made Birkenstocks a centerpiece of his runway show, a partnership that became the blueprint for what is now 1774, Birkenstock’s high-fashion division.

The 1774 team operates out of a Haussmann apartment in Paris, and since its founding, the collaboration list has become one of the most stacked in fashion: Dior, Valentino, Manolo Blahnik, Fear of God, Kith, BEAMS, Stüssy, Jil Sander, Proenza Schouler.

Last month, Etro debuted a Boston collaboration at Milan Fashion Week to celebrate the clog’s 50th anniversary. Birkenstock went public on the New York Stock Exchange in 2023.

Every single one of those collaborations, from Owens to Dior to the latest Etro drop, is still built on the same cork footbed, still assembled in the same German factories, still passing through the same hands.

The collaborators bring the expression, while Birkenstock provides the foundation, which is (in my view) one of the hallmarks of a truly great partnership when two entities collaborate.

Their chief product officer, Markus Baum, put it simply in a recent interview: “People bring their ideas, we come with our ideas. The final idea has to work in our own factories. It’s very down-to-earth, and we’re not trying too hard.”

What is the secret sauce?

I’m fascinated by this idea that Birkenstock, a publicly traded company that’s been in business for 250+ years, can maintain a balance between quality and quantity at scale.

Most brands in this space operate on trends and hype cycles. New silhouettes, new campaigns, new reasons to pay attention every quarter, whereas a brand like Birkenstock operates on conviction.

For them, the footbed is the thesis, and everything else is an expression of that thesis.

• The collaborations don’t dilute it

• The fashion co-signs don’t change it

• The IPO didn’t redirect it

Because the product has always been the focus. And I think that’s the most honest definition of longevity in fashion: not that you reinvent yourself to stay relevant, but that you never had to in the first place.

We’ve already done guides on:

• jackets in transitional weather

• spring trousers

• one on shirting

• a footwear shopping guide

Outside of the deep dives, editorials, etc., we’re investing a ton into making Spreza a trusted resource for you when it comes to buying products, so thanks for continuing to support us.

Access our shopping guides

A few notes about these guides ❤️

1. As always, if you’re looking for trendy shit on the cheap, this isn’t the best place to look. You need the right stuff, not more stuff.

2. A lot of these recommendations tend to be medium to higher price point (though not always). If you’re looking for quality, affordable options, I always recommend thrifting what you can (like eBay, vinted, etc), or looking at options like Uniqlo.

   1. If you like these guides, share them with a homie, partner, family member, lover, or anyone who would appreciate it!

Access our shopping guides

Read more

Spring is knocking.

You can start easing those parkas and 3M shell jackets into hibernation, but don’t get it twisted: layering season isn’t going anywhere.

This time, we’re running a women’s-only What Our Friends Are Wearing, and it does not disappoint!

We’ve got a solid female following, and it’s only right that we spotlight women with dope, authentic style. Expect more of these throughout the year as we roll out pieces geared toward women, too.

And to be honest, there’s a lot we can learn stylistically here from the ladies.

So take notes.

Dalila Radoncic — New York, NY

NYC Creative

What’s the one item you’re most excited to wear this spring?

Fisherman sandals and a great deck or denim jacket. After such a long, cold winter in New York, I’m beyond ready to shed the heavy coats and endless layers. While I truly love winter styling, there’s something unmatched about stepping into spring pieces that feel lighter and freer.

I’ve especially been loving fisherman sandals lately. I know they can be a bit of a hot take, but I’m fully on board. I have a few pairs that I’m so excited to finally wear and style properly. There’s something about a spring-summer only shoe that makes the season feel official.

At the same time, I’m really looking forward to wearing my deck and denim jackets without needing to pile on layers. I recently picked up two cropped deck jackets from Buck Mason Women’s, and they feel like such an effortless, cool-girl staple.

How would you describe your go-to warm-weather look?

Relaxed, effortless, and classic. I always gravitate toward strong basics—light wash denim or linen pants paired with a crisp white tee or an easy button-down. From there, it’s all about subtle styling!

I like to keep the base classic and introduce a pop of personality through accessories—maybe a scarf tied around the neck or a great hat to pull everything together. My style definitely shifts with the weather, but this spring I’m really leaning into simplicity: clean, relaxed silhouettes that still feel intentional.

What does your footwear rotation look like for the season?

My rotation includes:

• Fisherman sandals: Women’s black leather fisherman sandals | Romane Absolute Black | Bobbies (the leather on this shoe is INSANE! You don’t have to worry about breaking them in - they’re that good!!!)

• Loafers: black leather from Peche + a cool light beige Italian suede from Banana Republic.

• Mule clogs: cool pair from Boden

• Ballet flats: Freda Salvador Cow Haircalf + Bobbies Square Toe Ballet Flat

• A touch of western-inspired boots: Women’s beige taupe suede western-style boots | Vick Antelope | Bobbies & Women’s Black Veronica Flex Harness Booties | The Frye Company

I’ve recently been embracing flats more than ever. In the past, I leaned heavily on sneakers, but lately I’ve been drawn to more elevated, sophisticated footwear. I’m also loving a western-inspired boot moment, it’s so good when done right.

Any must-have lightweight jackets you recommend for layering in the spring?

Absolutely! Lightweight outerwear is essential for spring layering.

• Deck jackets: Buck Mason’s At Ease Deck Jacket is a standout. It’s incredibly versatile and can easily be dressed up or down!

• Denim jackets: I recently picked up a light camel denim coat from Sézane with a leather collar and adjustable waist - it’s such a unique take on a classic piece.

• Oversized blazers: A great menswear-inspired blazer is always in rotation for me. It instantly elevates even the most casual outfit:

Are there any new pieces or trends catching your eye this season?

Definitely, bomber jackets are having a major moment right now, and I’m really drawn to that silhouette. I’ve been especially inspired by Saint Laurent’s take, but there are also great, more accessible options from brands like Ralph Lauren, just like this one.

I’m also loving:

• A strong pop of red into outfits

• Western-inspired details (a longtime influence for me)

• Fringe is making a comeback

I recently thrifted a navy suede fringe jacket from the ’70s, and I can’t wait to wear it now that heavy layering is behind us.

Do you follow any personal style do’s or don’ts for spring dressing?

Do’s:

• Repeat and rewear your outfits

• Lean into light wash plus white denim

• Embrace denim on denim

• Add a pop of color through accessories

• Invest in versatile lightweight jackets

• Keep things easy and comfy

Don’ts:

• Save dark denim for Fall and Winter

• Skip heavy outerwear like puffers once the weather gets nice

• Retire winter-specific footwear (like UGGs) for the season, please

Susan Carroll Cooper — Glasgow, Scotland

Design Practice Manager

What’s the one item you’re most excited to wear this spring?

Definitely my frog skin fatigues. They’re very lightweight, so they don’t get any wear over winter, but they’re perfect when it starts to warm up. They’re vintage; I’ve had them for years.

It’s always a sign of the seasons changing when I can wear them without feeling too cold.

What does your footwear rotation look like for the season?

Dark brown loafers are year-round for me, so I’ll be kicking about in those as per usual. After a long time searching, I’ve landed on some simple, lighter casual footwear options in the form of New Balance Mt10T and Tabi footwear.

I walk everywhere, but don’t always want to be wearing 574s and heavy sneakers, so these feel like a sporty ballerina compromise.

And they add some subtle interest to an otherwise plain outfit. And throw in a pair of Vans or spring courts and the occasional camp moc for fun.

Any must-have lightweight jackets you recommend for layering in the spring?

A trench. Something lighter, but in a ventile or similar fabric that can handle the inevitable showers, and a French work jacket to layer under or wear on its own. I’m not telling anyone anything new here; these are classics. A mountain parka comes in handy, too.

Are there any new pieces or trends catching your eye this season?

Brooches. The girlies have been doing this for a while, so I’m on eBay looking for something cool to add to sweatshirts and work jackets—a little fancy flourish on utilitarian fabrics. I’ve been using a kilt pin as an adornment or to adjust the length of my knitwear over the winter.

Do you follow any personal style do’s or don’ts for spring dressing?

Do check the weather forecast and then prepare for the (inevitable) rain anyway. (Perhaps Scotland-specific)

Don’t overthink it. I like to review my wardrobe ahead of a season change and get really excited to wear my favourites that I haven’t reached for during winter.

Siôbhan Corbin — United Kingdom

Sustainability Manager

What’s the one item you’re most excited to wear this spring?

I am looking forward to wearing bandanas on my head again! Doing so feels out of place in the colder months, so I am excited to bring my bandanas out of hibernation and put them back to work.

How would you describe your go-to warm-weather look?

Easy and breezy! My go-to is a loose-fitting button-down or button-up shirt with a pair of French workwear trousers or a skirt when it starts to warm up.

What does your footwear rotation look like for the season?

I’ve got a pair of leather Tabi heeled ballet shoes on their way to me as we speak. I am looking forward to bringing these into rotation with my Salomon Marie-Jeannes, Hoka Hopara Sandals, and my trusty New Balance 990v5s.

Any must-have lightweight jackets you recommend for layering in the spring?

I’ve got a vintage MA1 that I feel goes with pretty much anything and everything. I can’t recommend getting your hands on one enough. It may sound a tad boring, but I am also going to have to say a denim jacket—or three in my case—vintage, of course. The range in denim jacket fits is something that’s really fun to play with, styling-wise, once the weather warms up.

Are there any new pieces or trends catching your eye this season?

I’m leaning more into the sportier-looking, wrap-around sunglasses this year. I’ve been a devout Ray-Ban wearer since the beginning of time, so it’s an unexpected move from me to be leaning into this. I need to go and try a few pairs on, but they’ll definitely be something I buy in the near future.

Do you follow any personal style do’s or don’ts for spring dressing?

Do bear in mind that it’ll be a lot colder in the morning than in the afternoon, so don’t go out in your thickest knit or heaviest coat, as you’ll be carrying it home later on.

Leave a comment

There’s a photo that lives rent-free in my head.

I wanna say it’s from an old profile that GQ did on Sid Mashburn years ago (circa ‘08) when he first opened his eponymous men’s shop in Atlanta’s up-and-coming Westside neighborhood.

The fits leaned a little slim, but I was enamored by the color pops, the way the suiting draped, and the golden era of sartorial prep we were lucky enough to live through.

This is that photo.

I first stumbled upon Sid and his work as a teenager, where my only outlets for discovering good taste was through Wordpress and Tumblr. He immediately became a beacon for good taste and muse for personal style.

Being from America’s Deep South (I’m a Tennessee boy at heart), and having grown up in rural towns, finding any semblance of creativity, culture, and style was hard to come by.

But if you’ve had the pleasure of meeting someone like Sid, you know what a radiant character he is. And you quickly realize that the way he treats people isn’t some kind of shtick… it’s who he is.

He treats people like he’s got all the time in the world. He shakes your hand, looks you in the eye, and remembers your name like you’re one of his own.

And that’s the kind of hospitality and care we often miss in retail.

I had the chance to sit down with Sid last year and talk shop on all the things. We went deep on everything from his upbringing in Mississipi, his first retail job, a one-way ticket to NYC to work in fashion, landing his first job at J.Crew (when it was a catalog in New Jersey), climbing the menswear ranks at Tommy, Ralph, and Lands’ End, and finally making his way home to ATL where finally opened his first men’s shop.

It’s now expanded into locations across the US, and what’s most impressive about Sid is how he’s stayed the course through many iterations of his brand.

We hope you enjoy this conversation.

PS, huge thanks to the homie Ray Spears for photographing Sid at his flagship spot for us.

Please give Ray a follow and reach out if you want to work with ‘em!

Clayton Chambers: Sid, appreciate you taking the time. I feel like our worlds have kind of orbited around each other for a while, but it’s good to finally sit down properly.

Sid Mashburn: Yeah, man, likewise. I think we met in the store before, right?

CC: We did, years ago. But even before that, I feel like I got to know you through that GQ piece years ago. That one really stuck with me. I was just starting to figure out my own style, and seeing how you built something so personal and intentional really resonated.

SM: That was a fun one. We had no idea what we were doing back then. Still don’t, some days.

CC: That makes two of us. You’ve been in this world for a long time (Ralph, Tommy, J.Crew) but it all started in Mississippi, right? That’s not exactly the first place people associate with menswear.

SM: No, it’s not. But I grew up around clothes. My grandparents were merchants. They had a furniture store, hardware store, even a clothing store at one point. My sisters were older than me, and they were into fashion. There were always magazines around the house. Think Seventeen, Glamour, Mademoiselle. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was absorbing all of it. And I loved shopping. Whether it was the grocery store or a roadside Stuckey’s, I just dug the experience of picking things out.

CC: So when did it shift from interest to obsession?

SM: Probably when I was 15. I had just gotten my driver’s license, and the first place I went wasn’t to a friend’s house or a football game, and I drove straight to a clothing store to ask for a job. I wanted to be around it.

I ended up working at this place in Jackson, Mississippi, called The Rogue, which was one of the best menswear stores in the country at the time. They had all the right brands, all the right people working there.

It was like a little fraternity. One guy could talk about literature, another knew everything about cars, another was obsessed with music. It was this mix of culture and style, and it just clicked for me.

CC: Sounds like a real creative incubator. Was New York always the goal, then?

SM: Yeah, I graduated from Ole Miss and went straight to the city. And let me tell you, they were pulling the straw out of my hair the second I got there. Total country boy. I wanted to be a designer, but I didn’t have the credentials to get into Parsons or FIT.

So I got a job at a menswear store, Frank Stella, and started figuring it out from there. A guy from British Khaki came in one day and asked if I wanted to do sales for him. I said, “Sure, if you teach me how to design.” And that’s how I learned.

Just by doing it.

CC: That’s wild. And that led you to J.Crew?

SM: Indirectly. I met my wife, Ann, in New York. We actually met on the beach. She was working at Vogue at the time, and a friend of hers left to work for this startup catalog company in Jersey. She told me I should go talk to them. Turned out to be J.Crew. I somehow talked my way into being their first menswear designer in 1985.

CC: No big deal. Just the first guy to design J.Crew menswear.

SM: Yeah, man, it was a blast. We were figuring it out as we went. At the time, we were doing these unisex pieces. Men’s chinos and shirts that they’d tweak for women. But we started playing with the idea of a full menswear line, and that’s how we landed on things like the barn jacket.

CC: And Ann was working in the Devil Wears Prada world of Vogue at the time?

SM: Exactly! She was basically Anne Hathaway’s character in real life. That whole high-pressure, high-fashion environment - it was the real deal. We joke about it now, but it was intense.

CC: That barn jacket is legendary.

SM: It was kind of a Frankenstein’s monster—part Barbour, part LL Bean, part old hunting coat I found in a thrift shop. It was oversized, a little preppy-sloppy, and just worked.

Once it hit, we got a little more freedom to push things further, like tailored goods, sport coats, dress shirts. That’s when we really became a proper menswear brand.

CC: Then came Ralph. What was that transition like?

SM: I got recruited from J.Crew to Polo. My interview was with Ralph and his brother Jerry, and at one point, Ralph jokingly goes, “He’s stealing all my ideas.” He was half-kidding, half-not. J.Crew had this younger, cooler thing going on that was really resonating. And he wanted to bring some of that energy back to Polo.

CC: That must’ve been like getting a PhD in style.

SM: Exactly. J.Crew was loose—we could do anything. Madras anoraks, polka dot shorts, fatigue sport coats. There were no rules. But Polo? That was a different beast. Ralph and Jerry were meticulous about every detail—the color of a button, the weight of a fabric, the way a collar rolled. It was a masterclass in branding and consistency. I learned a ton.

CC: And then Tommy. Another massive shift.

SM: Totally different. Tommy was smart, man. He understood scale and marketing in a way that was ahead of its time. I was there in ’97, working on his high-end collection line. Basically his version of Purple Label.

The idea was to elevate the brand in Europe and prove that Tommy wasn’t just about big logos and baggy jeans. It was cool to be part of that.

CC: That’s something people really connect with. You walk into a Sid Mashburn store, and you just feel it. It’s not just racks of clothes, it’s an energy.

SM: That’s the goal, man. It’s all about taking care of people. I tell my team all the time: remember names, remember faces, make people feel like they belong. That’s what makes a great shop.

If someone walks in and you remember their name, what they bought last time, or just what they were wearing, it changes the whole experience. It’s hospitality. The best shops aren’t just about selling clothes, they’re about making people feel at home.

That’s how you build a relationship, by actually caring about the person in front of you.

CC: And you’ve mentored a lot of younger guys along the way, like Mark Anthony Green, Pete, Matt Lambert. That’s something not every business owner prioritizes.

SM: It’s important. My dad was a people person, and I picked that up from him. It’s about inclusion. I want the shop to feel like a fraternity where everyone gets a bid. If you walk through our doors, you’re one of us.

CC: What’s next for you and the brand?

SM: We opened another store, this one in Nashville, with more in the future. But we’re not rushing. It’s about growing the right way, at the right pace. That’s how you keep it special.

CC: Sid, this was great. I could do this all day.

SM: Likewise, man. Let’s do it again sometime.

Get your first month free

Not just making products, but thinking carefully about how people actually live with the things they own.

SLOWE Living is one of those brands. Founded by industrial designer Oliver Murphy, SLOWE makes modular furniture out of a small workshop in London, England. Their whole philosophy centers on simplicity, repairability, and designing things that get better the longer you live with them.

I first came across SLOWE last year, when I was setting up my studio here in Amsterdam. When Oliver and I connected over a shared appreciation for the kinds of objects that earn their place in your life rather than demand attention, I wanted one of his sofas in the space, and he kindly agreed to gift me one.

Oliver’s got a unique approach to design, and his references span Tokyo, Copenhagen, Danish modernism, and 90s Japanese industrial design, but the work itself feels grounded in something more personal than any single influence.

We sat down to talk about how a pandemic side project became a furniture brand, why he’s deliberately resisting the pressure to scale, and what he thinks meaningful sustainability actually looks like when you strip away the marketing.

If you want to follow his work via IG, tap in here.

PS: A huge thanks to Jack Orton, Marcus Brown and Tom Groves for the photos.

The sofa bed that inspired SLOWE Living started as a personal solution to a problem.

How did that experience change the way you think about what design should do?

When the pandemic hit and a lot of my client work disappeared, it unexpectedly gave me the opportunity to make things with my hands again, something I’d really missed since studying industrial design.

I wasn’t trying to start a brand at that point. I just wanted to try and design a sofa for our own home that worked well in a small London apartment and didn’t feel like a compromise.

I couldn’t find anything on the market that felt both versatile and genuinely well considered, so I started drawing on influences from places I’d lived and travelled, particularly Japan and Copenhagen, and thought what can I make, myself, with the simplest materials available during the locdown?

That constraint shaped everything. I didn’t want complex or hidden mechanisms. I wanted something simple, easy to use, and well-engineered, something you understand immediately, but appreciate more the longer I’d live with it.

Designing for myself shifted my mindset away from hype and over-engineering, and towards longevity. I wasn’t thinking about trends or scale, I was thinking, would I be happy owning this for a long time?

That experience really cemented my belief that good design doesn’t always need to be fussy. It can be super simple, made from good materials, easy to use, and built to last, and that philosophy has stayed with SLOWE ever since.

You’ve spoken about influences from Tokyo, Copenhagen, Danish modernism and 1990s Japanese industrial design.

How do you reconcile these global references with the idea of place-based, slow craft in Cornwall?

Global references and place-based making don’t feel contradictory to me, everything has to be made somewhere, but inspiration can come from anywhere.

I don’t try to be overly precious about the references. There’s a clear lineage in the work I’m drawn to, whether that’s 90s Japanese Industrial design, Danish hey-day furniture, certain parts of the Bauhaus, or even minimalism associated with figures like Judd. None of it is about originality in isolation, but about respecting a common design language and set of values.

Making in Cornwall was important because the place gives work some identity and brand synergy I suppose. Many of the products I admire are inseparable from where they’re made, the processes, the pace, the people involved, it’s all so fascinating to me and I wanted to share that with my customers.

I wanted SLOWE to be built in a similar way, where manufacturing isn’t hidden, but part of the story and the value of the object.

Cornwall also offered a practical and philosophical fit. It allowed us to work with small, skilled workshops at the right scale, and it embodies a slower rhythm of life that feels aligned with the brand and the kind of work/life I want to live, a counterpoint to the constant urgency of London (which I still need in my life).

How do you see meaningful sustainability (something you pride yourself in promoting) versus sustainability that’s mostly marketing?

If you’re producing endless stock, chasing constant novelty, and relying on people replacing things prematurely, no amount of recycled packaging really changes that equation.

We’re not perfect, but no brand is and I can live with that imperfection, and not trying to improve absolutely everything. Brands like to project this outwardly polished somewhat virtuous way of looking at life, and I prefer to be a bit more daoist about it haha.

Our approach is deliberately slower: made-to-order, limited runs, perpetually repairable components, and products designed to evolve with people’s lives rather than be discarded.

If something breaks or needs replacing, we’re at the end of the phone to fix it. Or if you simply feel like a change in colour of your sofa, we can make up a new colourway with replaceable and washable cushion jackets.

I think sustainability credentials become marketing when it’s treated as an aesthetic or a badge, not backed up by real service or a good lasting product.

It becomes meaningful when it affects margins, lead times, and decision-making when you’re willing to say “no” to growth that compromises the integrity of what you’re making.

SLOWE seems to intentionally resist scaling at all costs. How do you reconcile slower scaling with the ambition to have an impact on culture and design?

I’ve come to believe that scale and impact aren’t the same thing. Fast growth often rewards volume over values. Slower growth gives you that space to build trust, relationship, friendships depth, and cultural meaning, things that compound nicely over time.

I also don’t like being hurried in life, it stresses me out. We’re a bit more Mediterranean in that mindset). What really is the rush, good things take time and if we do have a message it’s that. Run the bath and play one of our playlists.

That’s where I think it can have an impact on culture.

My ambition has never been to flood the market. It’s to contribute something considered to the conversation around how we live, what we keep, and what we value. If that resonates deeply with fewer people, rather than superficially with many, I’m very comfortable with that.

There’s a growing cultural conversation about living with less, valuing craftsmanship and resisting fast trends.
How do you see SLOWE Living fitting into that broader shift, and what do you hope it teaches people about how they live with objects?

I’d never want to tell people how to live or what they should buy. But personally, as I’ve got older, I’ve found a lot of freedom in owning fewer, better things, objects that don’t feel disposable or emotionally heavy.

That mindset is really at the heart of SLOWE. We design products to last, to be repairable, and to be supported over time, because life happens, things wear, spillages occur, pets get added into the mix.

There’s reassurance in knowing that when you invest in something, you’re not left on your own if something goes wrong.

Rather than chasing trends, we focus on making pieces that feel timeless and adaptable, furniture that can move with you through different homes and phases of life. Comfort, clarity, and longevity matter more to us than novelty.

If SLOWE teaches anything, I hope it’s simply that buying with intention can feel lighter, and that living with well-made, thoughtfully supported objects can quietly improve everyday life.

You’ve mentioned wanting to give space to other designers under the SLOWE umbrella.

How do you think a collective of slow-thinking creators might change the furniture/design ecosystem?

Running a business can be quite isolating at times, and I’m increasingly interested in creating space for designers who have strong ideas but lack the platform or infrastructure to bring them to life.

Large furniture brands tend to work with established names, which makes sense, but there’s also an opportunity to support emerging designers who are thinking more slowly and thoughtfully about how things are made and used.

I’d love to see the opportunity for this to grow as the business does.

Because our products are modular and adaptable, they naturally lend themselves to collaboration. Different materials, finishes, and interpretations can sit within the same framework.

I like the idea of SLOWE acting as a kind of canvas, where designers, artists, and creators can contribute their own perspective and create meaningful conversations through design.

Leave a comment

We’ve already done a guide to jackets in transitional weather, one on shirting, and a footwear shopping guide.

Outside of the deep dives, editorials, etc., we’re investing a ton into making Spreza a trusted resource for you when it comes to buying products, so thanks for continuing to support us.

Access our shopping guides

A few notes about these guides ❤️

1. As always, if you’re looking for trendy shit on the cheap, this isn’t the best place to look. You need the right stuff, not more stuff.

2. A lot of these recommendations tend to be medium to higher price point (though not always). If you’re looking for quality, affordable options, I always recommend thrifting what you can (like eBay, vinted, etc), or looking at options like Uniqlo.

   1. If you like these guides, share them with a homie, partner, family member, lover, or anyone who would appreciate it!

Read more

Outside of the deep dives, editorials, etc., we’re investing a ton into making Spreza a trusted resource for you when it comes to buying products, so thanks for continuing to support us.

As a paid Spreza subscriber, you’re getting access to these guides more frequently. We’re committed to providing you with consistently great style tips and guidance around how to invest in your wardrobe.

Beyond the seasonal guides, we’re also working on building out more evergreen content - like the best basics to buy year-round. And we have some really cool giveaways and brand discounts in the works exclusively for our paid community.

Get access to all that stuff

A few notes about these guides ❤️

1. As always, if you’re looking for trendy shit on the cheap, this isn’t the best place to look. You need the right stuff, not more stuff.

2. A lot of these recommendations tend to be medium to higher price point (though not always). If you’re looking for quality, affordable options, I always recommend thrifting what you can (like eBay, vinted, etc), or looking at options like Uniqlo.

   1. If you like these guides, share them with a homie, partner, family member, lover, or anyone who would appreciate it!

Read more

This might be your favorite brand’s favorite brand

When it comes to clothing, attention to detail is everything. And one of the brands absolutely nailing that right now is Seoul-based label Khakis.

We’re talking asymmetrical chambray shirts, freaky garment-dyed HBT pants, thick waffle-knit zip hoodies; the kind of pieces that feel considered without trying too hard.

It’s all designed to mix into whatever obscure, seed-to-sewn labels you’re already rocking, without making you feel like you need to buy the entire collection to get the look.

Khakis technically operates as a multi-brand retailer, but their in-house line is going toe-to-toe with the third-party labels they carry.

Both the shop and the private label launched about six years ago, and since then, they’ve become a key player in Korea’s new wave of independent brands, alongside names like Document, Cayl, and Frizmworks.

They’re also part of the JKND Co., Ltd. umbrella, which includes a roster of heavy hitters like thisisneverthat, YESEYESEE, Sunlove, and Tune. So, you know the vibes.

We’ve been fans of Khakis for a minute over here, and honestly, this spotlight is overdue. Consider this an introduction to one of the best brands on the market right now as we dive into their well-curated shops, explore how they’ve leveraged smart, intentional collaborations, and check out some of our favorite pieces from their SS26 collection.

Khakis’ retail

Khakis, a first multi-brand shop, opened in 2020 on Yeonhi-ro 11-ra-gil, with a second location arriving four years later in Seongdong-gu.

Both spaces are intentionally stripped-down and minimal, letting the brands do the talking.

At Sprezza, we pride ourselves on the art of discovery, and Khakis absolutely delivers on that front.

From a ceramic label like Mt. Washington Pottery to Montbell, and even an independent magazine like Lightning, it’s the kind of place where you walk in to browse and somehow emerge three hours later, caffeinated, culturally enriched, and lightly considering a new hobby in ceramics.

Select brands they carry: Actual Source, Adsum, District Vision, Goldwin, Klattermusen, Last Resort, norda, Western Mountaineering.

Khakis’ collabs

One of Khakis’ brightest spots, and honestly, how a lot of people first got hip to the brand, is its run of meticulously executed collaborations. In an era where collabs can feel like little more than a logo slap and a press release, Khakis’ approach is a welcome palate cleanser.

At their best, collaborations should do two things: introduce the brand to a new audience (in this case, North America) and produce dope pieces both parties can stand behind.

From their take on New Balance’s 2010 silhouette, to a duffle coat with British stalwart Gloverall, Adsum team-up, and their most recent nine-piece collection with Japanese label nonnative, there’s always an element of surprise.

More importantly, the results actually deliver: wearable, considered pieces that don’t get lost in the usual collaborative-muddied waters.

Khakis’ in-house label

As we mentioned, Khakis’ in-house line launched in 2020, rooted in military gear and American staples—firmly sidestepping trends in favor of pieces that actually stick around longer than your latest style phase. While the brand is based in South Korea, most of the garments are made or sourced in Japan.

From dirty-washed painter jeans to striped, Kurt Cobain–inspired long-sleeve tees, plus slightly off-kilter denim shirts and outerwear, Khakis doesn’t pledge allegiance to any one lane.

Instead, it feels like the ideal amalgamation of skate subcultures, punk scenes, various military eras, and the no-nonsense utility of mountaineering gear.

Here are a few pieces we’re currently keeping an eye on.

Leave a comment

Get access to our shopping guides

If you’re on the hunt for a new sofa

Before I get into all this, a quick note: and this isn’t sponsored either.

BUT, Vetsak gifted me a sofa recently and I’d be remiss if I didn’t share with you that they gave me a code you can use if you’re on the hunt for a new sofa. You get 10% off their outlet collections, which is solid.

If you’re on the hunt for a sofa, I’d highly recommend using this. You see what it looks like below, but when the couch arrived I wanted to have a friend photograph me in it so you can get a sense for how it looks IRL.

Code’s here: VETSAK-CLAYTON-2026

Annnd we’re back.

If you’ve been following along, you know I moved into a new apartment, and finding the right stuff has been a slow build. When we moved from the US, we didn’t bring much. Most of what we had in the states didn’t make the trip, and TBH I’ve kind of enjoyed the blank slate.

But there’s a difference between “intentionally minimal” and “we don’t have a couch.”

But back in January, I mentioned on my personal IG that the team at Vetsak kindly offered to gift me a sofa, and I asked for help picking the fabric and color. Not many people chose the khaki x corduroy combo, but that was my top pick, and I’m super happy with how it turned out.

The modular sofa arrived last month and it looks even better in person.

One thing I’ve noticed most since it arrived is how much it changed the room without dominating it. Our apartment here isn’t huge (~900sq ft); Amsterdam apartments rarely are. And a lot of furniture can be bulky in a tight space, overpowering it.

But this piece just settled in. It fills the room out without forcing anything, which is harder to find than you’d think, especially when you’re working with European dimensions.

And that’s kind of the whole philosophy I’ve been leaning into with this spot. Start with pieces that are quiet, well-made, and built to last, and don’t rush to fill every corner. Eventually, the space shows you what you’re missing and what to fill it with.

So, I like that the sofa gives me a nice foundation to build on, and now the walls are next. I’m looking for independent artists to build out a small collection around, nothing precious, just work that feels right in the space. If you have someone in mind, send them my way!

Leave a comment

Thanks to the homie Connor Houtman for taking photos.

And THANK YOU again to Vetsak for the sofa!

Discord memberships are now open

Hello friends, we are now re-opening the Sprezza Leisure Club, our invite-only discord group. It’s been a while since I opened invites to this, but with spring around the corner, it’s time.

If you want to join, you’ll need to fill out the link below, and we’ll get you locked and so you can start yapping away with the Sprezza fam, and other members alike. Warning: they might talk your ear off about some obscure Japanese brand they’re obsessed with, but they’re harmless!

Join the Sprezza Leisure Club

LL Bean Japan is back in the US

Back by popular demand, L.L.Bean Japan is running it back stateside this weekend only. Early access to the collection will be available through a special pop-up in NYC, then via cop online and select L.L.Bean retail stores.

Spanning 20+ styles and colorways, the collection introduces new silhouettes alongside refreshed core styles, blending oversized fits, rich textures and a bright, summer-forward color palette.

If you’re not privy, LL Bean launched a Japanese division in 1992, when it opened its first store in Tokyo, and as the Japanese tend to do with anything rooted in American heritage, they do it better than we ever could.

Buying in person

If you want to hit the popup, you’ll need to be in Brooklyn this weekend (Friday, March 20, through Sunday, March 22).

Address is right here: 106 North 6th Street, Brooklyn, NY 11249.

Buying online

If you can’t make it but want to be online, you can purchase on their website from next Tuesday, March 24th.

Products available exclusively online and in-store include four colorways of the Prospect Harbor Field Coat, two colorways of the Japan Edition Roxbury Jacket, and two additional colorways of the Milo Anorak.

Our editor, Leon, has already been road-testing some of the collection they sent him and has nothing but rave reviews so far.

Shit I’ve been roadtesting lately

The Vibram coaster

This Vibram coaster (c/o my guy Chris, who gave me one when I was in NYC last month). It’s honestly a genius move by Vibram and doubles as a phenomenal gift idea. It’s quirky and weird, playful, and genuinely useful.

These kitchen knives

The homie Ryan from Fields Outfitting sent me a set of these delightfully sharp kitchen knives recently and they are the real deal.

It’s the Essential Trio: a chef knife, a nakiri, and a utility knife. Between those three, you’re covering basically every situation in the kitchen. The olive wood is what I keep coming back to visually; every handle has its own grain, which is cool. It’s like something you’d actually want on your counter, except they are also really useful.

The blades are 420HC stainless steel, hold an edge well, and are easy to maintain. Full tang through the handle, so the balance is right. Nothing precious about them; they just do what a good knife should.

Ryan knows his stuff. Worth looking into if you’re due for an upgrade.

Check them out here.

Next up, this… well, the whole fit actually.

Hat and shoes are from Cafe Mountain. Gotta love the nod to listening and DJs with the “no requests please” cap, along with these lowtop boots that Lewis from CM collab’d with Padmore & Barnes on last year.

The maroon heavyweight fleece hoodie is from Adsum, and it’s genuinely one of the best sweats I’ve ever owned. S

lightly cropped, nice thick drawstring, double zip, and lined with fleece on the inside. Absolutely a banger. Here’s the link if you’re interested.

Comes in this color, olive, and light / heather grey.

Navy fatigue trousers are from Khakis2020, a Korean brand that is becoming one of my favorite brands to wear, hands down.

And the tote bag in the background is from Alex Mill. It’s a Canvas carry-all tote that’s available in multiple sizes, can be monogrammed with your initials, but what I love most is that I can throw whatever the hell I want in it, and it somehow manages to fit.

Here’s where you can find it.

Loopwheel t-shirt

The loopwheel tee from Merz b. Schwanen (i.e. the famous shirt brand Carmy wears in The Bear) is 100% worth the money. They sent me a pair of thick a$$ socks, but their shirting program is truly incredible (albeit not cheap, but neither is the quality).

They have a nice little t-shirt guide you can check out here.

Subscribe now

Alas, we are not quite there… yet. And before we get there, we need to discuss the cursed dilemma we all face as the seasons (sort of) change: transitional weather.

The period where it’s kind of hot, but sometimes cold. Or a little steamy outside, and then windy (for those in the South). Or if you live in northern Europe, rainy… season.

We still want to put that sh*t on, but it’s tough without the right pieces in place. So in addition to today's guide on transitional spring jackets for you to consider, we’ll soon share a Guide to Dressing for Transitional Weather. We’ll share tips on what works and what to avoid.

If you are a free subscriber, you’ll still get some free stuff, but not our shopping guides.

A few notes about these guides ❤️

1. As always, if you’re looking for trendy shit on the cheap, this isn’t the best place to look. You need the right stuff, not more stuff.

2. A lot of these recommendations tend to be medium to higher price point (though not always). If you’re looking for quality, affordable options, I always recommend thrifting what you can (like eBay, vinted, etc), or looking at options like Uniqlo.

   1. If you like these guides, share them with a homie, partner, family member, lover, or anyone who would appreciate it!

Get our shopping guides here

Read more