HUSBANDS is making us want to dress like we're in a French film
A few thoughts on why I love HUSBANDS brand so much, with an editorial look at their team, office, and shop on Rue de Richelieu
Loafer SZN is upon us
Explore Marc Nolan’s extensive spring loafer collection in the meantime.
Quick editorial note
Huge thanks to Pauline and the entire HUSBANDS team for letting us step into their office & flagship store on Rue de Richelieu to photograph. And a huge shout to my guy Valentin Russo for crushing these photos on film. Give the homie a follow; brilliant work.
Earlier this year, I wrote about how—amidst our return to wearing tailored clothing—Drake’s is making it fun to dress up again. And they’re doing so with an emphasis on Neapolitan shapes, preppy sensibilities, and subtle injections of color.
Another brand that deserves credit in a different way is HUSBANDS PARIS.
I’ve been following the brand for a few years now, and they’ve easily become one of my favorites. There’s a youthful energy to the HUSBANDS brand, and it feels fun in a way that few other brands can inject into their products.
As a brand that draws sartorial guidance from British and Italian tailoring, HUSBANDS merges the best of both to create silhouettes and shapes that are funky and chic.
But to Nicolas Gabard (HUSBANDS’ founder) and his team, this isn’t simply a costume; it’s a reflection and appreciation for time and place, and how one weaves stylistic and cultural references into their clothes.
If you look closely, you can notice subtle references from the 70s, where Gabard and the team often lean into creatively.
That time and place is groovy. It’s The Smiths on repeat, black-and-white Truffaut, trench coats on a gloomy day, Chelsea boots with flared trousers.
It’s brown and olive and sand and beige.
And it’s a reminder that so much of what we wear is an amalgamation of everything we consume, no matter how niche it may be.
HUSBANDS reminds us that tailored clothing can be beautiful and chic, integrating the tradition of suiting with contemporary sensibilities. The proportions are right, the tones are inviting, and it’s aspirational without feeling high-brow or elite.
They do it in a way that only the French could do.