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My support of the cycler-swank look hasn’t halted after all these months. Brooklyn-based outfitter OUTLIER is back on my radar with their lean, all-season Merino Hoodie.
According to the OUTLIER aces, “Straight up, merino is the best hoodie material around. It’s got a beautiful soft handfeel and keeps you snug and warm when you are hanging out. But when you get active it wicks sweat away from your body keeping you cool and dry.”
I’m beginning to amass a considerable collection of shoes, but not one pair is white.
This spring I’ve sought after a pair of earthy white canvas shoes, and then a pair of bright white bucks, but if I’m gonna roll with white way down-down, leather would be the sharpest and safest step, I’ve decided.
With that caveat, only these Common Projects court shoes have called to me clearly and dearly enough.
The other boy-blogs claim there’s much to revere about this brand’s output. For me though, the attraction centers squarely around the gilded little numbers gliding across the rear of every Common Projects shoe.
I’m uncertain how long I can rationalize my fantasizing when the price of these shoes breaks down to be nearly $35 per each of the 10 golden digits.
Golden or not, they’re certainly spendy little numbers.
I had been considering some crazy Kid ‘n Play-like printed shorts from NewHighMart recently.
And I’ve experimented not too successfully with royal blue denim before setting my eyes on a pair in Life Aquatic yellow instead.
But both the tribal print shorts and the technicolor trousers seemed a bit bombastic and brazen for me. Until UNIS posted their new lookbook-looks.
Their pieces provide the punchy oddity I’ve been after, but are presented with a subdued, sleepy slant.
The trick, as performed by UNIS, is making the audience believe you’ve been housing these eye-catching items in the back of your closet since 1991 and you wear them blindly because they secretly remind you of House of Style, history homework, and your crush on Denise Huxtable.
“I don’t like this groove.
Try and give me somethin’ I can croon to.
Catch my drift?”
My favorite album of the past year (and practically ever) is a mix cd I mastered myself using all 8 songs off Vanity 6’s only release, paired with the 4 best songs off Apollonia 6’s only release.
The two different bands share everything – sonic puppeteer-ing courtesy of early 80s Prince, lack of slacks or skirts in any and all marketing materials, Brenda’s bitching and Susan’s sex-pot-iness, and lyrics so louche it’s odd they were legal.
What the two bands do not share is lead singers, but the unique identities of their rosters’ main members matters little since the pair of trios were served up as little more than lingerie mannequins grinding around in dry and dirty dancehalls.
At surface level it sounds like the soundtrack to a feminist’s nightmare perhaps, but behind the tinted glass of the girls’ baby blue limousine, its clear Prince knew which gender really pulled the strings.
The ditz ‘n glitz disguised gritty male-baiting/bashing set to simple, slinky synth-pop. Perfect Prince-ish coulda-been hits the man himself was too backed-up to dish out on his own discs.
It’s the sound of snakeskin pumps but twice as tart.
It should be evident by now, based on earlier entries, that when foreshadowing my future outfits, the visions I’m after have little to do with actual events on my life’s actual itinerary. Admittedly, I’m prone to projecting myself into pretend productions of stage and screen which world premiere nowhere but inside my own mind.
In that same spirit, I introduce today an ongoing Treasury series in which a single fashion find is fleshed-out through its pairing with other items of interest into a full-fledged, fictional figure, complete with a Treasury-issued name, age, and fatal character flaw.
These sage-y Sperry shoes set the stage for our first fictional figure.
The clinical, nurse’s shoe slant was what first drew me to this footwear. I initially envisioned pairing them with synthetic-minimalist pieces for an asian-modernist laboratory look, but it’d take me a decade to amass pieces in that aesthetic and an additional decade to actually wear any of it.
In the end, I spun the shoes into something (someone) saltier and less sterile. Enter, stage left, Mr. Fredolph “Dolph” Felix.