Sombreros

EDITOR’S NOTE: SAM AND JOHN DISCUSS “HOT TRENDZ” FOR LATE THIS SUMMER OVER EMAIL.

SF: I’ve been doin alot of reserch about cool clothes for summer what do you think r cool clothes

JL: I don’t know. Like a t-shirt, I guess.

SF: what tshirts arent cool at all u know what is cool? 

JL: This is a rhetorical question. I’m not answering this.

SF: somberos

JL: What? That’s idiotic.

SF: nop i did reserch and i know what is the coolest

cool clothes are somberos

thes photos are from the Sartorialist

JL: That’s not real.

SF: no its real i know because i asked schuman and schuman said that every1 is wering somberos on the streets i even asked bill cuninghamm and i asked jackjillblogguy and i asked tommy aton and gurrism even thugh i didnt no what he was saying becuse he has funny assent

JL: You don’t know those people.

SF: schuman knows everybody he will tell you cuse he is so smart

hes the smartest man in menwear he is even smurter than wooster ask him

JL: Whatever.

SF: John.

SF: Jon i did a product rund upt of all the best somberos you can wear in public

JL: It’s “sombrero”.

SF:

“loook at this sombero it is soo cool 

it is fur peple with lots of $

look at this sombero is soo cool

it is fur people with some $

look at this sombero is soooooo cooooollll!!!!!

is if fur ppl with very little $”

SF: see i did diffnt $ points arent you glad

TSB does ddiffnt $ points i am bes blogger along with them

SF: Was tat a good prodct rite up

JL: Sure, I’ll post it right away.

You heard it here first. Sombreros are fucking huge.

Book Review: Lost Cat

GTBT isn’t a clothing blog. It’s a terrible clothing blog. And terrible clothing blogs also happen to think they influence your lifestyle.

I’m going to tell you what to read.

You don’t like to read?

Well, I did some reading of clothing blogs that also happen to make lifestyle suggestions and guess what?

They tell me reading makes you cooler or something.

They tell you to read things like The Economist, Jonathan Franzen, Junot Diaz, and, I dunno, Ann Coulter. 

And magazines. Read a buttload of magazines.

These are all relevant things.

I think you should read comic books because they’re awesome.

Specifically, I picked up Jason’s (he apparently needs no last name) latest work, Lost Cat.

I’ve been following Jason and his work for about 8 years now. Stripping story-telling bare, he relies on no impressionism that some artists rely on. He’s almost Herge in his pacing and paneling. However, where Herge is a borderline travel novel comic book (no character development, lots of regional/issue development), who the hell knows where Jason’s stories take place. 

Jason’s stories are always black, black, horrible, hilarious jokes. Existential crisis are farces as Jason plays his minimalist art in on itself. He embraces Hemingway’s zero-ending stories and lets you fill in the blanks. 

Lost Cat is a return for Jason to the clean palette. For his past few volumes, he has used color. The color sits in his books, not doing much of anything. Whereas when he uses black and white, he simplifies the story around his characters and allows your imagination to fill in the blank -- sort of like Eisner does with his impressionism but assuming a lot more capability within the reader’s mind. I like this as it allows more assumption to take place. His anthropomorphic, and apparently clavicless, characters blank expressions convey more than you or I could get out of a couple drawings. Lost Cat, by utilizing dabs of melancholy yellow, allows Jason access to visual depth that he did not have with just a black and white palette. 

Lost Cat tells the story of an idealistic detective, sort of like whatever Owen Wilson’s character in Midnight In Paris, but less curmudgeony and backward looking. The detective gets caught up in a number different storylines which are hilarious yet probably commonplace. Jason is pretty obviously influenced by old films in this work, as always but it’s more obvious here, as he picks out old film lines and names to use for his characters. Like in an old film, a cigarette is a useful tooling for skipping words but conveying meaning.

Jason claims that he intends no hidden meaning in each story. Which is probably true but I think there are certain inexplicable things he tries to get at in each story he tells.

Lost Cat won’t make you cooler. When you’re sitting in a living room and somebody asks you what you’ve been reading and you say, “I just read Lost Cat by Jason,” they will look at you and say, “Oh.” Awkward silence will be cued and then someone will hopefully get you both a drink. "Have you listened to the new Mumford and Sons albums?" you ask. She, regretting saying "no" the first time, says "yes" and then you'll both talk about shitty music that you both hate for the next 30 minutes.

Books in general won’t make you cooler. I don’t know where people got that idea. But neither will dicking around on the internet.

What will make you “EFFORTLESSLY COOL”?

I dunno, keep doing stuff and get back to me.

Cat-Piss

Sartorial rules tend to be subjective things that one creates for oneself to make things easier in the morning when a big pile of clothes lie in front of you. They also tend to be pretty useless when espoused to others.

For example, he's a rule question.

Should you always wear clothes?

The Traditionalist: Yes. Button-downs, blazers, and chinos, please.

The Part-Time Nudist: Not when you're at the nudist beach.

The Full-Time Nudist: Clothes are an abomination and should never be touched.

These are all rules.

Take what you will from them.

But here's a rule I like: "Don't wear lots of exciting things because too much excitement causes stress for everyone. And stress isn't fun or happy."

So, I generally limit myself to one exciting thing.

Here's an amendment I made a while back.

"Don't wear exciting things on your feet because exciting things on your feet will stress everyone out including your cat and nobody likes a stressed out cat because they piss on your carpet."

Want your cat to piss on your carpet?

Here's a collaboration between Clarks and Woolrich.

Here was the marketing rule that somebody laid out during the meeting between Clarks and Woolrich:

"Let's do exciting things because we don't know what we're doing."

They're sticking to it.

And I think that's brave.

But just a little smelly.

SuitSuppy

Some Amsterdam(n) corporate show has made it to the states. You could say that it made it a while back, but NYC is an incubator for corporate retail sales as brands test the fickle (ha, that’s a joke) American preference. 

No, I’m not talking about medical marijuana, although this may encourage many of my readers to stop immediately.

I’m talking about Suit Supply (from here on out, I’ll be calling it SuitSuppy, because I can and I because I think it’s hilarious; and no, you’re not expected to laugh). Originally from Amsterdam, the company has decided that sales in the US are apparently large enough that it will expand even more into middle America. If you want to look like you stepped out of a Sartorialist photo (or whatever knockoff blog kids are following these days) but happen to live in Texarkana, you can drive down the road to Dallas and pick up your gear. 

Already set up in Chicago, Atlanta, Washington, NYC, and Philly, SuitSuppy will sell you that sprezzy look for, like a paycheck or something. Cheap, right? They’re moving into Dallas, Denver, Seattle, and Houston so middle America can get theirs for cheap as well.

I suppose hipper men will dole out the cash for a sport jacket that doesn’t quite fit and is generally kinda’ shitty but will SuitSuppy’s sales translate into middle America? Lets look at what they’re selling to Americans.

Don’t mind that this suit is slightly tugging at the model, it’s denim. Americans fucking love denim. Americans get their couches upholstered with denim. They get their cars upholstered with denim. They wear denim hats. Whatever green eggs and ham was to Sam (pre-conversion -- like Saul but maybe not as extreme), denim is the antithesis of that to Americans. By posting cruddy denim suits on tumblr, I know that people will reblog the shit out of that (it’s science). I don’t know if this translates to sales but I’ll run with it.

Americans run a lot so that explains why we are so fat. 

Have you even noticed that you can’t tell if the suit fits well when the model is pseudo running? SuitSuppy has employed some sly dogs.

This jacket doesn’t fit. At all.

But most Americans don’t know that so they’ll just see a cloudy, but grand and shiny, ideal that they can purchase. Some shit about “‘bout that life” and a T.I. music video. People dreaming of being something else. SuitSuppy is selling something. 

Good product? From what I’ve heard, it’s not the best. Good ideals? Yeah, I guess.

If I’ve learned anything from looking through clothing marketing ads for 20 odd years, I’d say that good ideals are the best way to sell your product; quality product be damned.

SuitSuppy also puts sunglasses on everything. They like circular frames which is eerily like...

It’s what I take away from SuitSuppy. This stuff is Willie Wonka. All loony and mod and quirky but still wealthy because being poor is only cool when you’re in really good shape and someone who is 30 years old doesn’t have time for sit-ups and 6am runs. SuitSuppy is for the middle American man who wants to stay ahead of the curve but awkwardly so because wearing a 3-piece suit in Dallas is definitively gross. (I heard bitches love butt-sweat stains?) 

But do Americans want to buy Willie Wonka? That remains yet to be seen. 

Will the Willie Wonka collection go live in the spring?

Will you be able to buy it in Pittsburgh?

Will Cincinnati stop smelling like roast beef?

Will you stop buying Long John Silver’s to fit into those slim wool trousers?

Will you buy Willie Wonka?

Will a SuitSuppy suit last longer than a Gobstobber?

Trick question, it won’t.*

Frankenstein shoes aren’t for rhetorical questions. They’re for leaving on the shelf.

Will cheapened Neapolitan sell in middle America? Yes, because we love bad things.

*heard from multiple sources on the street. I don't own any SuitSuppy so don't look at me.

Unionfaded

Do you remember this article?

It’s Stepford Wives for men. 

And the author applauds. Or at least appears to. She might be in on a joke that we can only suspect. 

She applauds an amassment of taste, which tends to value things other than personal choice and “value” and other bullshit that I talk too much about.

Anyway, I would like to pull a quote from the article:

“This compels me to bring up the importance of proper cuffing, which, according to Kirby, is done as a one-inch two-fold. Caillouette’s wife chimes in, concerned about a friend who needs a cuffing intervention. “He thinks he’s cuffing his jeans. But he’s not cuffing them--he’s rolling them up!” she exclaims. “You’ve got to tell him,” she implores her husband. Sure, it may seem like no big deal. But in this perfectly casual fashion movement, what may seem like an insignificant detail to some might just be what separates the boys from the men.”

I think the author is laughing at this moment, but I cannot tell.

Either way, Unionmade is ruggedly precious.

And I warned you, previously, that I may just write about the Unionmade new arrivals.

Well, sorry, but I’m going to show you the new arrivals so you too can be ruggedly precious. 

Just remember to cuff your jeans right or somebody who drinks 3-too-many-iced-coffees everyday may just intervene. 

Kapital

That’s $371 for a street urchin’s shirt.

Kapital

Somebody call Jack Dawkins, I’ve got a great scam.

Birkenstock Boston

This model of clogs were not this price 12 months ago. This is not a joke. This is a fact. You can wear them with your $70 socks. That’s not a joke either. They’re there.

Laid-back surfer vibes respond to market demands, as it were.

Gitman

Unionmade bought these at the Jack Horkheimer estate sale. He had hundreds of them stored away, just waiting for humanity to take them to new frontiers. Like a fucking coffee shop.

Carhartt

This is a sweatshirt. I always get bacon grease on my sweatshirts. I really put the "work" in workwear.

Makr

We had these stools in middle school science class. Half of the stools were broken.  They weren't made by the same company but, hey, potato, tomato, some other stuff that doesn't really make sense and might be a vegetable. 

Makr

BAGS ARE FOR CARRYING IMPORTANT THINGS IN LIKE SMALLER BAGS.

Postalco

 Ok, rain ponchos are cool. I give up just tearing down everything I see. This is the sort of thing that would seem useless until it’s terrible outside and you don’t care that you look ridiculous. That, in my self-venerated opinion, is cool.

Postalco

You’ve got a lot of ideas. I get it, you’re creative. You’ve got a twitter that you’re active on. Every friendship you have is a collaboration. I collaborated with my dog when we killed a raccoon the other day. Nobody bought it.

Baxter (also happens to be the name of Ron Burgundy's dog)

Unionmade shop is about being rugged. Yeah, yeah I typed that.

Cuff your pants just so or you might freeze to death, or something whatever.

But probably you’ll just be judged by your friends wives. 

Which I suppose is the social equivalent.

Damn.

The Sartorial Relevance of Rob Zombie

I hope that most are familiar with Dragula to some extent. It's rougly 15 years old now and shows it's age. However, perhaps there are some current sartorial cues for us to take a look at in this video that may "cement" their timelessness.

Eh, probably not. But would you rather have me write about Unionmade's new arrivals?



Black leather trench coats...

Well, this is going swimmingly already. How many "timeless" people wear black leather trench coats?

*the crowd goes silent*

It looks like a current Varvatos design. I'll have to look further into this. Or you can.



Rob wears a hat for a total of 1.5 seconds in this video. Perhaps it shows a level of uncertainty and self-conciousness when he puts outdated hats on his head.

Perhaps it also shows how dumb some of you guys look wearing hats. Perhaps.

Rob has a dope car. Would he outstunt RL in a vehicle like this? Not sure if Ralph Lauren has a car like this. Maybe.



Well if Rob doesn't wear Varvatos then his bandmates certainly do.



Except for his robots. They just wear metal.



Zombie crossfades video of children in BoO over bombs blowing up. People who wear BoO aren't hard at all. They eat OJ and Nilla Wafers and still think they're in high school; a private institution where everyone wears repp ties, too short jackets, and twee collars. I concur with Rob.



Is that Sternberg though? Looks like he's jammin'.

Come over to the dark side Sternberg. BoO collab with Zombie in the spring. Please?



RL may have a car like this but RL doesn't have a buncha' demon homies to roll deep with.

Even if he does, they don't jam out like Rob Zombie and company.



Rob Zombie guest post on Ivy-Style.



This is European minimalist. Slimane.

ROB ZOMBIE WAS ALREADY THERE. Y'ALL THINK YOU'RE HILLARY AND NORGAY. DESIGNERS ARE JUST SELLING YOU NOSTALGIA.



Does RL have a buncha' witches to roll around with?

Well, he does have a wife and daughter.

So count Rob Zombie and RL even.



CONCLUSION:

Rob Zombie is just Varvatos.

Gilt always seems to have a buncha' Varvatos on the extra sale rack.

If they have Rob Zombie curate a Varvatos sale I bet they move a lot more Varvatos than they are currently. It's a one time cash-in but I figure it could be worth it. Enough kids grew up with Twisted Metal that I'm sure they could sell Varvatos on a nostalgia byline.

Gilt, get Rob Zombie to curate a sale. Do it. Do it now.

Non-Iron Shirts

He was months out from the election but the party was working hard for him early. They had brought in Portman to stump for him. Portman is a fiery guy with lots of zest and was great at getting crowds into a fervor. He’ll jump up to the stage, push the men’s and women’s buttons, get everyone going in the direction of a singular opinion. When he leaves the stage the mobocratic mothers in L. Pulitzer are always left slobbering, waiting for anyone with a semblance of diction to take the stage, telling them what cause they should support and how they should support it. Portman could really soften a crowd up. 

In the local community college gymnasium, Portman bounced up and down on the stage. The seat candidate wiped his forehead. It was hot. A geriatric complained about the current seat holder.

“Fuckin’ goddamn sonevahbitch is gonna cut everything and spend all my taxes and turn this nation into goddamn Saddy Araybia or goddamn Chaina. We gotta get that sonevahbitch outta there if it’s my last vote. Won’t leave my grandchildren that fuckin’--”

The candidate was swept away by his aide. Portman had finished.

It was now his turn to talk. To talk about what he was going to do.

As he mounted the stage, the stageboards creaked and swayed. Perhaps he should get down so some one could tighten things up. He pushed the thought from his mind and walked to the microphone. His sweat was cold and his legs felt old. This shirt he was wearing, it really didn’t breathe, did it? It locked all his body heat up which made him woozy. Well, at least he didn’t need it to be ironed.

“Fellow Americans of....”

He stopped. Coughed. Something went up and then down in his throat. Then, “Fellow residents of the great state of...”

He stopped again. Coughed again and then went to cough again. Instead of coughing, he yakked. Just a little baby yak. Yellow and milky and soupy and not too gross. It fell out of his mouth and onto his shirt. Just a dollop, really.

He looked out to the crowd.

He looked to his aide, stage left. 

He looked back out to the crowd 

And then everything went red.

And then everything went white.

And then everything went blue.

And then everything went black.

He woke up laying on the floor in the lobby. Some random woman was dabbing his forehead. She was morbidly obese, about his age, and smiling at him. The candidate’s red tie was covering up his yak stain. The yak had soaked through his undershirt and he could feel the warmth on his skin. His aide walked up to him with a washcloth full of ice cubes and pressed it to his head.

“We’ll have to get you a new shirt before you meet those contractors,” the aide told the candidate. The candidate looked at his aide, not quite able to comprehend what had just happened.

The room was silent but was next to the gym, so you could hear the noises happening within. It sounded like Portman was back on stage. Removed from the mob, the silence was awkward.

“They make non-iron shirts. They should make non-stain shirts too. We sure could use something like that,” the aide told the fat woman. Or maybe the candidate. “Heh, we could probably use something like that in one of your entrepreneurial speeches. Y’know, fostering new ideas and stuff. That’d be great. The garment industry in the southern part of the district would be all over that. God, what would the world do without us?” The aide smiled as his phone began to vibrate. The aide stood up and took the phone call.