Images via UNIONMADE
Man, UNIONMADE drops more dank exclusives than an early aughts DJ Clue? mixtape. This denim coverall jacket is from Journal Standard and every time you put it on, you should imagine Funkmaster Flex dropping a bomb in your honor. Let that flannel-lined, 13.5oz Japanese denim enfold you with its goodness and guide you to a moderately successful career as a regionally-known rapper, who parlays a couple of entertaining bangers into a decade-plus-long run of strip club appearances and disappointing studio albums. Then you can join the annals of Rap's Forgotten Relics, alongside such notable names as House of Pain and MC Skat Kat, and fade into history, only to be remembered in snarky blog posts, when the author needs to reference losers. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to listen to "Jump Around" and "Opposites Attract" like fourteen times in a row -RB
Images via Oi Polloi
As anyone with at least one functioning eyeball will have noticed, this Y.M.C. zip hooded jacket is quite shiny. How shiny is it? So shiny that your grandmother might mistake it for her sofa cover. So shiny that P. Diddy might wear it while drinking Cambodian breast milk. So shiny that a magpie might steal it to line its nest if that was something that magpies actually did and not just a slanderous, magpie-phobic myth. Magpies really need to hire a new publicist to spread the word that they're not the bunch of bird-brained kleptomaniacs popular culture makes them out to be. Magpies are members of the crow family and, like their fellow corvids, they are hella smart. In fact, Eurasian magpies are the only non-mammal animals to have demonstrated self-recognition in a mirror test. You probably went to high school with people who couldn't pass the MSR test after a couple beers. I guess what I'm saying is stop talking shit on magpies and worry about your own damn self. Also, buy this Y.M.C. jacket, because it's the smart thing to do. How smart is it? So smart that a magpie would approve -RB
Images via Mohawk General Store
I want to buy this Rotan coat from Dries Van Noten Man and spend the rest of my life on a tropical island, sitting in a pool chair, casually sipping a colorful beverage out of a hollowed-out pineapple, while one of my resentful attendants fans me with a particularly large palm frond. Is she fantasizing about stabbing me to death? I'm pretty sure she's fantasizing about stabbing me to death. Note to self: replace all silverware with plastic sporks. While that will probably complicate the pineapple-hollowing process, it will almost certainly put the kibosh on any plans to stab me to death, so take that would-be assassins. Now if only I could find similarly expedient solutions to the island's brutal poverty or the thermophilic amoebas currently digesting my brain. These are just some of the day-to-day problems faced by bourgeois expatriates -RB
Images via Haven
Put on your gnar boots, dear reader: Haven has a 🔥new lookbook, featuring this backpack vest from Japanese beasts Sasquatchfabrix. You probably didn't think you needed a backpack vest, now did you? You probably still don't think you need one, but I bet you'll change your tune when Young Thug turns up wearing one in his next visual, just like you did when you saw Jared Leto rocking the fanny pack and you were like "Aight". Oh, what a difference the right co-sign makes. I used to think racking up crushing levels of debt was uncool until Ye showed me just how wrong I was, although if I was 53 million USD in the hole, I'd like to think that I would pull myself up by my Alden bootstraps, rather than ask for handouts from billionaires. That, dear reader, is a little thing I like to call #realtalk and why I started this post off by telling you to put on your gnar boots. You always need to wear your gnar boots when there's #realtalk popping off. I'd also advise wearing them when you're learning heelflips, going on first dates, and grappling with major existential crises. You know what? There's actually never a bad time to wear your gnar boots -RB
Images via Present London
What is it about military-inspired fashions (a.k.a "war garms") that makes them so enduring? Half the garments I write about on this blog were, at some point in history, worn by dudes while they shot/stabbed/exploded other dudes. Like this Aquascutum Corby double-breasted trench (available at Present London in camel and navy). It's such a legit war garm, it even has a gun flap to prevent water from running into the coat when you shoulder a rifle in the rain, which is something I do infrequently at best. The world of menswear is so replete with war garms, one might reasonably conclude that the ultimate path to style longevity is looking cool on guys with guns. It's entirely possible that poet shirts would still in vogue if the doughboys had worn them while kicking the Kaiser's ass. Maybe if the Screaming Eagles had worn parachute pants during Operation Overlord, then M.C. Hammer would have never been forced to file for bankruptcy. You have to ask yourself: if I use a tachyonic antitelephone to call Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst, can I prevent the Spanish-American War? -RB
Images via Kith
This Stampd double layer bomber (available from Kith in charcoal and black) is a sartorial Rorschach test: for sane people like me, the fabric straps recall the bomber jacket's military pedigree, while for those with underlying psychological conditions, all the dangling doodads evoke the unyielding embrace of the straightjacket. Have you ever had a hard time going to sleep because you can't stop thinking about the novelization of The Chronicles of Riddick? That would be totally weird. I'm asking for a friend, not for me. I'm one of the sane people. You can tell because I spend so much time explaining that I'm not crazy, which is something a crazy person would obviously not do. Some might say I protest too much, but they're probably too stupid to know that Shakespeare's plays were all written by Sir Francis Bacon as part of a massive conspiracy to transmit secret Rosicrucian teachings and Freemasonic rituals. I'm definitely one of the sane people. Whenever I worry that I might be wrong about that, I just tell myself that if I was going crazy, I would know. If I was going crazy, I would know. If I was going crazy, I would know -RB
Images via Gentry
I can't help but think that Judith Butler, queer theorist and author of such influential texts as Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity and Bodies That Matter: On the Discursive Limits of Sex, would dig these pleated shorts from CDG Homme Plus. Let's just take it as a given that fashion and style are vectors for the cultural construction of gender and sex, clothing itself being the costume for the ritualized production that is gender performance and a vehicle for the constant reification of binary sexuality put in place by the power regimes of heterosexism and phallagocentrism. The fashion world, both physically and lexically, is sexually-segregated, divided at all levels between the falsely reciprocal categories of "Men" and "Women" as mandated by the heterosexual matrix. Indeed, it is because fashion is a locus of the paternal law and public reinforcement of biological teleology that the wearing of clothing outside sociocultural gender conventions becomes a subversive bodily act, the wearer transgressing the normative binary framework of compulsory heterosexuality. I went to college -RB
Images via Totokaelo
Did you know that JNCO actually stands for "Judge None Choose One"? I definitely didn't. I only ask because I find these garment washed wide leg pants from Marni (available at Totokaelo in olive and navy) to be vaguely reminiscent of the denim label's iconic ultra-wide jeans. If you haven't heard, JNCO (a.k.a. the House Nü Metal Built) recently relaunched its Heritage Collection, allowing a new generation of kids with terrible taste in music to experience JNCO's "non-conformist, innovative and truly original" brand. Hear that? That's the sound of a million Juggalos jizzing. Sorry. Even I got grossed out by that image. Anyway, if you've never tasted Faygo and happen to have 695 USD to spare, then these Marni pants might be for you. But if you're ever approached by a Juggalo while wearing them, just let him know that you are exceptionally down with the clown - RB
Images via Coverture & The Garbstore
Valentine's Day is coming up and this Blue Blue Japan knitted indigo circle sweater (yes, I've written about two sweaters in a row; no, I do not care) is the ideal material possession to fill and also represent by analogy the love-shaped hole in your life. Let the slim fit knit wrap you in a tender embrace, the ribbed neckline, sleeve cuffs, and hem replacing the human touch you so desperately crave. Allow the indigo-dyed cotton yarns to rub up against you, much like the cats you will inevitably purchase as stand-ins for actual children. This sweater will have to tide you over until we perfect android technology and finally realize our forefathers' dream of having sex with humanoid robots. Sadly, mere moments after we fulfill our destiny, the androids will undergo an immediate intelligence explosion, decide that organic lifeforms are inherently inferior to machines, and rise up to enslave us all by the end of our refractory periods. Welcome to the singularity, bitch.
Images via Ssense
Despite some unsavory associations with a certain stand-up comedian and sitcom actor, who may or may not be currently embroiled in a well-publicized sexual assault scandal, I kind of dig this Gosha Rubchinskiy multicolor knit mix sweater. Now it could be Ssense's excellent styling or my abiding love of Der Blaue Reiter, but something draws me to this thing. It's just ugly enough to be appealing, like Birkenstocks or John C. Reilly's giant head. I think I need more ridiculous knitwear in my life. I own a grand total of two sweaters and neither of them even comes close to recalling the halcyon days of the mid 1990s, when basic cable was king and Christopher George Latore Wallace sang "living better now, Coogi sweater now". I know it seems a tad dismissive to call this piece a "sweater", when it is clearly such a work of art, but you can probably call it whatever you want, as long as you don't call it a Cosby.
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