Despite the countless noteworthy cities scattered across the United States, a relatively small one in southeastern Louisiana garnered a unique eminence that stands distinctly from the others. New Orleans’ inherent weirdness and nonchalant demeanor top the list of its bizarre characteristics. It fosters sin and in the summer especially, it’s pretty close to hell. However sinister the description, the city is remarkable and undisputedly fun. New Orleans’ deep, eccentric past embodies an absurdly large amount of renowned art, music, architecture and food. The city cemented its place in history several times over. But, absolutely none of that affects the merchandise sold by tourist traps and street vendors. No historically significant events or treasured cultural moments funnel into the products. That’s not a rare practice, and the exclusions really act as the standard for any items marketed toward out-of-state visitors or other potential consumers. Finding a wearable souvenir in Las Vegas without dice, playing cards, or a roulette wheel remains an admirable accomplishment. Similar to Sin City, New Orleans houses amazing gambling establishments, but most of the merchandise focus on other areas. Alligators, jazz musicians, Mardi Gras masks, voodoo dolls and Bourbon Street signage splatter across every product imaginable. No shirt, apron, coffee mug or snow globe escapes the city’s played out, stereotypical imagery, but the products fulfill their purpose. Although predictable, what else would New Hampshire tourists want to document their trip to one of the most ludicrous places on the planet? A ceramic mug with an intoxicated man straddling a street sign while drinking sums up most experiences accurately. Sweatshirts detailing French colonization doesn't really have the same effect. Per usual, the vintage iterations retain the same ethos but cross even further into absurdity. Fluorescent carnival imagery, personified animals and significant bars span across various products in slightly different variations. (The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles rip is a localized, pop-culture referencing gem!) However tacky and kitsch the subject matter, the items are staples in every big city. New Orleans can’t claim iconic graphics like “I Love New York”, but in typical form we produce outlandish iterations with unmistakable origins.
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Animated figures tend to stick with a strict uniform, never straying from a selected outfit despite the outlandish circumstances defining their creation. People across the globe immediately recognize Mickey Mouse’s gloves, Buzz Lightyear’s spacesuit and Mr. Incredible’s Edna Mode costume. Although not real, these characters and items embody emotional characteristics inseparable from the owner. John Lasseter, Pixar co-founder and former CCO of Disney Animation/Pixar is intimately connected to these figures and countless others across the Disney-Pixar universe. Similar to his creations, Lasseter dons an unmistakable uniform deeply embedded in his ethos – Hawaiian shirts. His floral regalia may not be as high tech as Buzz’s suit or indestructible like Edna Mode’s tailoring marvel, but it acts as Lasseter’s distinct trademark. Since his unrivaled success in the animation industry, he ensures a brightly-patterned shirt accompanies him in every facet of life. Lasseter comes equipped for every possible scenario including sporting events, holidays, red carpet premieres or upper-echelon award ceremonies. (The one for the Venice Film Festival is ungodly.) With over 1,000 options and an active rotation nearing 400 shirts, the man rivals any archive collector or celebrity clothing enthusiast. Yes, he keeps some in storage units. A 2011 YouTube video provides an extremely in depth look inside Lasseter’s obsession. As anyone would logically assume, the man’s massive walk-in closet is a sight itself. It’s not quite Kardashian level, but he wood-covered beast puts middle-aged executive to shame in terms of quantity and taste. Lasseter seems ecstatic while guiding viewers through the subject-specific compartments. His collection didn’t grow accidentally and he is acutely aware of every shirt in rotation and its role. For his birthday, he received a custom shirt adorned with personal motifs related to major life events from his wife. That’s a whole different level. Custom one-offs approach haute couture ideology. I appreciate that a grown man favors personalized florals over a traditional suit or tuxedo. Lasseter’s heightened love affair with rare, customized pieces began in 1999 surrounding Toy Story 2’s release. According to a Disney fandom blog, Lasseter worked with Reyn Spooner for the initial creation and the subsequent iterations for each Pixar film. The series spans across all Pixar and Disney-Pixar movies with unreal corresponding collaborations for the award-winning projects. Beyond the eye-catching patterns, Disney-Pixar and Reyn Spooner both maintain a symbiotic relationship that mixes cool and nerdy. The abrasive clothing can easily transform from silk iterations in Scarface to overweight fathers relaxing on a coastal vacation. Disney-Pixar maintains an incalculable fan base ranging from average moviegoer to overly obsessed, awkwardly-aged fanatic. Both companies do a certain thing extremely well and produce legendary products. The collaborative cross-pollination between two premier brands makes sense. Lasseter’s collection was displayed during the 2015 D23 expo, giving fans an unprecedented look at the collaborative efforts and an option to purchase related products. Disney freaks crave the shirts. I found countless blogs and forums discussing potential stockists and similar alternatives to Lasseter’s pieces. In accordance with other desirable memorabilia, the co-branded Reyn Spooner shirts fetch hundreds of dollars on eBay, and most have active bidders jockeying for the highest price. During Steve Jobs’ world-altering relationship with Pixar, he was wearing his iconic uniform – jeans, gray New Balances and a black Issey Miyake turtleneck. His pared-down outfit aligned seamlessly blended with Apple’s sleek, simplistic products and branding. Although slightly more erratic than Jobs’ choices, Lasseter’s Hawaiian shirts match his bright, playful, bold creations perfectly. When selecting sneakers for the ensuing day, a quick scan of my closet provides me a variety of options with most designs dating before my birth. I have jackets, shirts, and pant with modern styling and recent release dates, but my footwear could be transported into 1999 with no pair misplaced. Although the theoretical time travel wouldn’t lack accuracy, very few models were actually produced before the mid 2000s despite the attached moniker. Upon internal tag inspection, my Air Max 95s entered this planet a decade ago, and the 1997 Talarias entered my closet in 2015. The Air Woven, immensely popular in the early 2000s, were introduced in a new multi-colored version and acquired last summer. Everyone knows all these shoes, including my 60-year-old mother, fall into the retro sneaker category. The items originate in the past, but re-release on a daily basis. I can’t accurately describe the category as an obsession or fascination. For years vintage shoes models in new and original colorways constantly float into stores and fly off shelves. It would be nearly impossible to find a sneaker fan without a retro pair in rotation. Every brand, from Jordan to Mizuno consistently releases models from decades ago to a consumer base eagerly awaiting consumption. Personally after years of acquiring these historic shoes, my interest is finally starting to fade. I still harbor a vibrant passion for interesting footwear options, but the never-ending influx of 90’s runners causes me to seek my thrills elsewhere. But, I hold no grudge toward Nike-the vast majority of my collection-and the other companies for the practice. It makes too much sense businesswise and despite the enormous cultural phenomenon, these are companies seeking profits and satisfied stakeholders. Although Nike reissues runners like the Air Max 180 and 97 countless times pre-2015, the past few years have resulted in an absolute onslaught. The recent extortion undoubtedly links to the dad shoe-embarrassed to type that term out-and the cultural obsession with models featuring technical materials and overtly athletic capabilities. The floodgates opened for chunky runners with no foreseeable end date. The lust for vintage clothing extends far past footwear and the mash up of clothing from distant decades is a now a standard style identity. Initially, old items appear fresh, exciting and foreign, but my wide-eyed outlook toward these items lessened as certain pairs get beat to death with 50 colorways over a two-month span. (Everyone knows what happened to the Huarache.) A person could strictly wear shoes from the past 30 years and the word “outdated” couldn’t be accurately applied. This sentiment is not unique to me, and numerous fans despise the inevitable overkill. Personally, I think the “retro” phrase evolved into a misleading category type. Countless models receive more colorways and reworks within a two-year period than the decade surrounding the original release. The “silver bullet” Air Max 97 is now compromised of corduroy, suede and other bizarre combinations miles from the original. Not a negative, but definitely interesting. Despite my seemingly dismal outlook, I wholeheartedly love when companies reintroduce certain pairs. I tend to gravitate toward the obscure shoes buried beneath some of the popular options, because they tend to be more exciting with justifiable purchase rationale-a cringe worthy sentence but the truth. Reebok’s Beatnik and Nike’s Chalapuka (not technically the original Chapuka) provide prime opportunities to capture elusive models with originals being unwearable or impossible to locate. The “fashion” sneaker collaboration can easily veer into tacky Instagram influencer territory, but the Comme des Garçons x Nike Presto Foot Tent featured in the Spring/Summer 2019 showcaused my heart to jump despite the nearly $300 price tag. It’s such an odd, perfectly hideous object that could only enter my closet through a re-release or intense, yearlong eBay adventure. (I secured an immaculate pair of 2002 Presto Gyms a few years back.) My hypocrisy toward retros is evident from the long list of models I hope to see that goes far beyond the CdG monstrosities. But, I’m not losing sleep over another 90’s Air Max runner. My hope and wishes go toward some real weird possibilities. The Storm Beacon, Air Max Willy (not a runner), Air Visi Mazy (In men’s sizes), and Silverfish-the shoes worn by Morgan Freeman’s interpretation of God-vie for my top position. Although not prime candidates due to the current style climate and consumer interests, I would never dismiss a future release as trends evolve. Hopefully the trail shoe trend eventually pushes brands to pull some real nonsense out. (Salomon regularly collaborates with a Parisian boutique/café, what limits are truly left?) Upon deep self-reflection and meaningful internal analysis, I feel my retro exodus stems from boredom and a feeling of missing out. Recently, new models have really impressed me. It’s exciting and refreshing witnessing shoe technology expand and leading to crazy executions. Naturally, these recent successes interest me more than an Air Max introduced over 20 years ago. Eliud Kipchoge is insanely close to completing a marathon in less than two hours, and I currently have the ability to purchase shoes featuring similar technology and aesthetics. (All the ZoomX work is top notch and continues to get better.) I would much rather purchase that than another lame, overreaching story packaged into a Jordan 1 colorway.
The retro landscape morphed into a necessary evil. It’s not a dark, sinister plot; companies make shoes people want to purchase. But, it’s an unforgiving system with the ability to suffocate select models. New technology brings refreshing energy and renewed interest that retros rarely achieve, but I can rattle off 50 exceptions. If it’s a good shoe, make it. High school conjures various images, thoughts and emotions depending on the person reminiscing. The initial rush of aggravating classes, odd teachers and disgusting lunches are all common denominators when recanting those four pivotal teenage years. However, another interesting facet often lurks in the background undetected until closer inspection. Attire is unquestionably a vital element embedded in the academic process for those wearing uniforms or other school board-approved garments. Everyone remembers what they wore in high school just like they can recant whatever music, films, or cars filled his or her free time. The countless cultural aspects surrounding one’s tenure directly impacted the brands and styles one gravitated toward, regardless of decade. But outside the well-known manufacturers attached to different generations, schools actually produced admirable designs on their own accord. Although it may seem odd upon initial thought, pieces, especially those produced pre-2000, boast enviable graphic design work that all levels of fashion have imitated. Countless brands flip the classic P.E. shirt with the blank space for the student’s name. Physical education class produced an iconic American garment despite the lackluster memories associated with sweaty outings and foul-smelling locker rooms (the occasional fist fights were amazing). Athletics always account for interesting merchandise, and most schools have an abundance of programs with corresponding gear. All activities considered, track and field reigns as a personal favorite. The winged foot representing the magical sandals worn by Hermes and Mercury descended from the mythological beings and became synonymous with track sports. (In terms of modern brands, Noah consistently utilizes the winged foot and other related imagery with connections to high school athletics.) The vast majority of this school-created clothing has that loveable quality innate to hand-drawn graphics. There’s a slightly crude and amateurish feel stemming from the human error that can’t be replicated through computer-assisted renderings. Kapital undoubtedly plays off this sentiment by creating products with thoughtful irregularities and flaws people now associate with high-quality Japanese craftsmanship–countless Japanese brands reference vintage styles from American high schools and colleges. But, it feels completely natural because a 15-year-old kid is wearing it while daydreaming in English class instead of a fashion house attempting to recontextualize something deemed mundane and unspectacular. The human element makes the imagery interesting. (The slightly offset letters and number on the Cannelton hoodie are perfect mistakes.) Chances are students, faculty, or parent volunteers played some role in creating these pieces, definitely adding a heightened element of care and pride. Graphics aside, schools started off on a great note by selecting blanks that are now treasured by aficionados for the fit, style and colors. Russell and Champion seemed extremely viable options because of the admirable quality, low price point and historical connection to sports. Those square tags boasting Russell’s falcon head or Champion’s emblem are the perfect subtle additions that peak collectors’ interest. It’s refreshing to see these companies’ products in an original context. The retro sports trend plastering oversized logos on every imaginable product dilutes how interesting these school renditions are. (How many “fashion” collaborations has Champion done in the last decade?) Similar to military or outdoor garb, it’s always more intriguing to envision these items utilized in the intended setting and capacity. I think a dangerous line can be crossed when discussing an item’s “essence” or “soul, but these garments embody a unique culmination of cultural practices far removed from the modern fashion world. No high school football coach or equipment manager is personally heat transferring graphics to the team’s sweatshirts in 2019. Amateurish graphics, recognizable subject matter and vibrant blanks combined to form things far more interesting than the “R15E UP” sold during my 2015 commencement. Most horrific, grotesque, frightening acts leave vivid imprints in people’s memory. Every September, America pauses for a brief moment to memorialize the losses on 9/11. Memorial Day is a national holiday. Besides the immense pride instilled in these events, a never-ending array of corresponding apparel, bumper stickers, aprons, and decorations is sold. However, several sinister events led to an opportunistic cash grab in the 90’s. Instead of t-shirts honoring a national tragedy or deceased celebrity, certain incidents evolved into absurd historical tokens. The two episodes with the most online evidence are Ted Bundy’s execution and the 1993 Waco siege involving David Koresh’s Branch Davidians. Both situations had the nation in a chokehold, and bystanders seized the occasion by selling graphic t-shirts. Eager opportunists swarmed outside the Branch Davidian’s compound selling a variety of themed merchandise. The 51-day siege allowed vendors to get extremely creative, offering countless variations for customers to try out. I guess the items aren’t bootlegs because there is no original basis for the designs, but the lo-fi 90’s graphics play heavily into the vintage parking lot merch craze in recent years. The lines of booths and salesmen resemble a music festival far more than a horrific event resulting in 82 casualties. In a similar vein, Ted Bundy’s 1989 execution evolved into a fashion runway showcasing homemade creations. Bundy’s actions disgusted the country, and the crowd surrounding his death looked eerily excited. The Bundy bystanders favored custom shirts instead of the vendor-made goods from Waco, but that “Burn Bundy, Burn” caricature shirt is just too ridiculous not to mention. Some favored classic white crewnecks with simple references to his inevitable fate in the electric chair, while some went the extra step and tie-dyed their creation for a vibrant but laid-back effect. Although it seems odd to design a shirt glorifying a man’s death via electric shock or purchase a garment representing a cult leader, tantalizing situations usually trickle across all mediums, including fashion. Both events are embedded in American history and will continue to be explored through film, literature and of course - t-shirts. The best style on earth doesn’t technically reside on land. The massive blue abyss spanning the globe demands its visitors dress in an extremely specific manner tethered to the liquid environment. A 700 fill down jacket, wide wale corduroys, and Jordan 11s would prove a massive disadvantage for anyone facing the high seas. Naturally, the strict dress code created adventurers who unintentionally exemplified sartorial prowess. There’s definitely different categories of sea explorers, ranging from Land Rover-driving yacht club members to thousands of Navy members scrambling aboard an obscenely large vessel, regardless water spawns innate style from necessity and tradition. Ocean voyages always disseminate a feeling related to the elusive sense of luxury and adventure that never transfers to reality. Jacques Cousteau and sea exploration remain a synonymous pairing 22 years after his death. His adventures, mechanical creations, films, and conservation efforts continue to cement him as a legendary figure. Similar to Abraham Lincoln, Cousteau personifies a certain hat style, and the red knit beanie is inseparable from his crew and their adventures aboard Calypso. Wes Anderson’s “The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou” definitely brought his signature hat and accompanying blue ensemble into the spotlight again, but the look shouldn’t be confined to the 2004 film. (Props to Adidas for actually manufacturing the Team Zissou shoe.) Cousteau and his marine counterparts’ pristine style blends heritage and functionality with personality. The red hat stems from British Navy divers, but Cousteau’s popularity introduced the item to a much broader audience, largely unaware of its deep-sea origins. Although the cap is clearly the signature piece, his blue uniform remains magnificent. I don’t know the exact color to describe his chambray shirt and turtleneck, but it’s perfect. A vessel filled with divers, operators, captains and researchers may not seem like the prototypical space to explore personal style preferences, but I doubt his wardrobe carried notable importance for him. A deep-sea adventurer sprinting across the deck in coordinated ensemble seems designed for a Wes Anderson story. Cousteau’s technical savvy extends beyond oceanic research and his contributions to device like the Aqua-Lung, which transformed diving from a military and commercial endeavor to one enjoyed for personal use. His interest in highly functional mechanics extends to personal accessories. The red hat is no technological marvel, but upon meaningful inspection countless photographs capture the wonderful timepieces through his career. His Rolex Submariner and the DOXA SUB 300 were common choices. In this context, tool is much more appropriate than describing these items as jewelry. Cousteau and his Rolex may appear on a million mood boards, but seeing such a historic item used for its intended function in extreme environments reiterates Cousteau’s unknowing coolness-he’s like an elderly, ocean-obsessed James Dean. The watch stayed on his wrist as he floated through coral reefs documenting a world people never saw in clear definition. That’s far more interesting than a Sky-Dweller dangling off someone’s wrist at a Vegas pool party. However, other members aboard Calypso retained immense personal style at sea. Albert Falco, Cousteau’s chief diver, hailed from France and spent his career exploring aquatic ecosystems. Besides their shared interest in the underwater world, Falco also adopted signature pieces. Falco typically opted for a Breton shirt and navy smock, both inherently French and riddled with tradition. A French Navy decree from 1858 stated the striped shirt as an official uniform requirement for sailors, and its been reinterpreted by a plethora of designers including Coco Chanel and Jean Paul Gaultier. Another sailing maverick with legendary outfits is Bernard Moitessier. Moitessier was a French national whose wardrobe-or lack of-echoes his sailing style and attitude. He’s often shown shirtless with no footwear, and the only coverage coming from a pair of faded red shorts. Although his lack of clothing may seem questionable, the sparse choice is rooted in function and performance. Vibrant shorts and no top make logical sense when sailing through the tropics. Why would anyone choose to be hunkered down by useless zippers and buttons during a battle with a sudden wind shift? Moitessier’s personality and outlooks seem obvious when judging his bare-chested appearance-only the necessities. The man potentially earned the fastest circumnavigation during the 1968 Sunday Times Golden Globe Race but refused to end the event at the appropriate location to reject the ongoing commercialization of performance sailing. Moitessier inevitably turned down endorsement deals and worldwide acclaim. The man in the tiny shorts made his point clear, he just wanted to sail. Although far away from the Parisian Haute Couture runways, women found a way to showcase interesting ensembles while using a boat deck as a catwalk. Naomi James was a phenomenal sailor and accomplished astonishing feats during the 1970s, but retired from serious sailing endeavors after her husband died. She wrote several books detailing her experiences and historic career. Her 1979 book, “At One with the Sea,” exemplifies her unbeknownst sartorial expertise. The 29-year-old New Zealander strikes a statuesque pose in yellow bib overalls while peering off into the water. Opting for more technically advanced options than Moitessier, James displayed style sided by textile innovations. (But, the Lady Kritter sweater is just too good.) Despite James' accomplishment and excellent book cover, the best sailing gear in history belongs to Krystyna Chojnowska-Liskiewicz. The polish athlete was the first women in history to circumnavigate the globe by herself. Her red Henry Lloyd suit proudly displayed The White Eagle, Poland’s national coat of arms and a matching hat. Mazurek, the 32-foot long sloop she traveled on, proudly decorates the garment along with slant pockets across the chest and legs. The outfit outshines any sports jersey, military uniform or spacesuit. Jordan's jersey doesn't come close. Semi-aquatic fashion responds to nothing but function and any accompanying technicalities derive from necessity. Moitessier didn’t need any garment besides his shorts for the majority of his voyages, so that’s all he wore. Prada and Louis Vuitton’s involvement in the America’s Cup resulted in amazing pieces in the early to mid-2000s, but some of the inherent coolness evaporates when unnecessary luxury branding appears. It’s cool to see the logos in such a foreign arena, and Prada utilized textile improvements in their renditions, but it still seems invasive. The natural world couldn’t evade high-profile branding efforts.
The ‘70s spawned legendary style choices, and the revered fashion sense seeped into the oceans. Although no sailors wore platform heels and fringe jackets while racing across the Pacific, their wardrobe decisions blended personal taste and function during a very interesting era. A red Henri Lloyd suit, tiny shorts, and yellow bib overalls wouldn’t logically transfer to any landlocked areas-the coolest outfits on Earth never make it to land. What does it mean to be a “nerd” in 2019? The historically antagonized social class and accompanying moniker underwent dynamic changes over time as the line blurs. Everyone, regardless of race, gender or income interacts with things once considered geeky or uncool to the socially conscious majority. Obsessions with technology, video games and various other entities deemed worthy of social exile at some point are commonplace. Society considers computer programmers as geniuses, and coders gain immense respect for rendering the digital backend people never see. As this marginalized group claws its way to social grace, the negative stigma associated with certain segments of nerd culture dissipated. Besides the tech-savvy abilities and video game skills, their wardrobes have been raided and assimilated into the fashion world through Vogue and other publications. I think its necessary to distinguish what in my mind is true nerd merch due to the term’s looseness. I’m not referencing any cyber-chic Prada ensembles or purposely wearing notorious fashion faux pas like socks and sandals. The intentionally geeky attempts usually come off as exceedingly corny. I’m talking about my guys in the comic shops playing Warhammer wearing some t-shirt they received as a preorder bonus for a PS-2 exclusive. However, these garments are slowly moving from LAN parties to the fashion limelight. Finally, people are starting to get sick of the vintage band and rap shirt phase, and shirts referencing video games or comic books seem like a viable new option. Vintage comic book, sci-fi, and video game pieces appear at an incessant rate on my timeline, but I love every single one. The absurdly colorful subject matter depicts scenes far more peculiar than the super faded Tupac shirt I’ve seen over 10,000 times. I never jumped into the vintage band shirt phase because it seemed so cutesy and overplayed. T-shirts shouldn’t require a checklist for ownership, but I definitely align more with those promoting other things. Magic: The Gathering, HeroClix, and fantasy RPGs dominated my time as a middle school student so I feel validated rocking a shirt with some disfigured, scythe-wielding parasite. The subject matter portrayed is no longer reserved for the lanky, pale, shy caricature playing World of Warcraft in a musty basement. An absurd amount of people play video games, which undoubtedly lessens the negative social connotation associated with related clothing. Baker Mayfield tweeted about Halo 3. Ninja streams games with global celebrities like Drake and Travis Scott while millions watch - Fortnite eradicated any argument suggesting video games aren’t loved by the masses. In regards to video games, the collaboration between Japanese watchmaker Seiko and the Final Fantasy franchise resulted in my favorite crossover to date. (Louis Vuitton x Final Fantasy is equally absurd.) The duo initially crafted a special edition Air Pro for Final Fantasy VIII’s 1999 release. Seiko’s Air Pro is an insane timepiece by itself with an inflatable band similar to Reebok’s pump technology and Gameboy-like colors, but the addition of Squall’s armor detailing creates an unbelievably precious late 90s tech gem. “Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within” hit theatres in 2001, leading to the partnership’s second project. Seiko created a piece modeled after the main character’s watch, crafting a real world version of the futuristic, bizarre, vertical device. It almost looks like a mix between a FitBit and a kid’s meal toy, but it truly is an insanely creative collaboration stemming from two Japanese companies with mastery in the respective fields. It wouldn’t be fair to continue without mentioning another Japanese behemoth, Bape. Avoiding a deep dive into the brand’s history, the iconic imprint referenced sci-fi films like Planet of the Apes, obviously, and Star Wars since its inception. Nigo’s obsession with nerdy classics led to extremely famous creations. But, the Bape x Marvel partnership reigns supreme. The recent superhero movie explosion and the insane popularity surrounding films like “Deadpool” and “The Avengers” helped destigmatize the notion these fictional characters only entertain children and comic book collectors. Before this recent boom and subsequent Marvel collaborations following Nigo’s 2013 departure from Bape, the brand worked with Marvel on an extremely colorful Bapesta group. The shoes are bright, childish, unapologetic and absolutely hideous in a likeable way. Bapestas tend to resemble candy painted Monte Carlos or a Mondrian painting due to the distinct patent leather color blocking, but I enjoy these renditions. No limit exited to restrain this project as the sneakers attached to a corresponding comic book that doubled as packaging. Thor, Iron Man, Cyclops, The Hulk, and several others lent their color schemes and imagery, creating a plethora of wearable Jolly Ranchers. Superheroes, villains, and their associate corporate entities exist inside a weird space. Everyone knows about them, but being too knowledgeable is a universal sign of someone’s obsession with fictional beings and a comic stash tucked away in a parent’s garage. You can easily identify the fantastical creations, but openly endorsing the crime-fighting celebrities has been the basis for potential ridicule. Comic book nerds are a historically acknowledged stereotype like band geeks and jocks. But, superhero imagery on t-shirts has been popular for years across various fashion levels. A guy in a Superman shirt in the grocery store remains a common sight, and the horrendous, pre-distressed, retro-inspired comic graphics stocked at retailers like Wal-Mart are permanently etched into my brain. Despite the overwhelmingly weak attempts, good executions exist. “The world’s greatest collaboration” tagline still greets visitors to the April 2011 Stussy x Marvel information page. Although some may consider it a hyperbole, it’s another personal favorite, combining classic Stussy designs with Marvel icons. A cooperative effort pairing two gigantic companies from different areas to create dual branded products makes perfect sense and a notable move by both corporations. The shirts released in two collections, Stussy x Marvel Series 1 (The Ultimate Teamup) and Series 2 (Special Edition Artists Series). Series 1 combines characters like Doctor Doom and The Silver Surfer with Sean Stussy’s classic signature and the circular logo with interlinked S’s. The artist series is undoubtedly better, featuring custom character interpretations by Mister Cartoon, Gary Panter, David Shrigley and several other renowned artists. Bill Plympton’s distinct take on Mystique, the blue-skinned shape-shifter from X-Men, remains the collection’s crown jewel. His rendering’s exaggerated head and body remind me of a theme park caricature – in a positive and unexpected way. The colossal mash-up could have easily resulted in a bland corporate blunder, but it produced fairly interesting takes, showcasing semi-niche figures in a fashionable way alongside streetwear beacons. In recent years, Julien Consuerga’s Stray Rats plays off nerdy, lo-fi, niche content perfectly. The brand doesn’t attempt to hide this-the brains behind it are clearly extremely knowledgeable and appreciative of every reference utilized. Consuerga’s Instagram contains countless images of potential inspiration, including an enviable assortment of collectibles spanning different eras and cultures. The Cloud Strife poster, Donkey Kong plush toys, and Eliza Thornberry figurine exemplify the mastermind’s taste. Stray Rats’ latest endeavors include a New Balance collaboration featuring The Joker’s infamous purple and green color coordination and a series of custom, horror-themed Barbie dolls. (Also, much respect to New Balance for the Neon Genesis Evangelion-a mech-inspired Fresh Foam Cruz is too perfect.) I’m sure Stray Rats will remain the last brand creating unique items with references so deeply rooted in niche cultural hideouts that I will spend hours scouring the internet for more information without succeeding. One of the greatest indicators of perceived cultural normality is movie taste. Are you a 35 year old watching “American Sniper,” “Ponyo,” or “Enter the Dragon?” The answer casually hints at some character traits. Although the perception may vary between judges, some of the most defining cultural moments in nerd history appeared in film form. Attempting to find a person who isn’t vaguely familiar with “Star Wars,” “Lord of the Rings,” “Ghost Busters,” or “Alien” remains a difficult task. As these franchise age and nostalgia enters overdrive, related promotional merchandise pieces continue to rise in price and popularity. Similar to the band shirt counterpart, originals are increasingly hard to acquire for a respectable price. But, I feel $550 for a 1982 “Blade Runner” shirt with Schlitz branding is more justifiable than spending a comparable amount on a Nirvana piece. I can almost guarantee you will not see a replica in Urban Outfitters or Pac Sun in the near future. Raf Simons’ 2018 S/S show referenced the sci-fi cornerstone, but a branded shirt may be easier for people to digest than knee-high rubber boots. Regardless, promotional merch for geek classics are eons beyond modern day renditions, and a "Guardians of the Galaxy" shirt falls flat in comparison to a 3-D alien exploding through someone's chest cavity-such an absurdly perfect design. Nerds gave the world technological innovations, entertainment franchises and a plethora of other beneficial byproducts related to their enviable intelligence. So, it’s only right we raid their closets also. As more gear boasting supervillains and fantasy heroes floods the scene, the act of wearing historically ridiculed imagery becomes substantially less daring. I can’t recall anybody getting stuffed inside a locker for wearing a “Resident Evil” shirt, but the assimilation makes perfect sense. Nerd merch is the ultimate hyper-niche category filled with obscure graphics and references that provide the perfect “in the know” appearance people crave. Currently, if I spot someone in a “World of Warcraft: The Burning Crusade” shirt, I’m assuming the wearer acquired it naturally without the aid of internet style guides,and the owner is a legitimate fan with an immense knowledge of Azeroth. But, the inclusion of baggy, purposely distressed Dickies and Balenciaga sneakers would force me to reinterpret the outfit in a different context. It’s lame to act extremely protective over graphic t-shirts and behave like a moral gatekeeper, but it seems wrong for a dude in a $10,000 outfit posing in one of those “sick” street style photos to rock a “Dungeons and Dragons” shirt. I feel like some dues should be paid. You need to roll a 20-sided die and slay a dragon with a fire bolt to wear the shirt without guilt.
The Buri Khalifa skyscraper is the world’s tallest building, rising over 2,700 feet in the Dubai skyline. Although the man-made wonder is beyond impressive, it is easily dwarfed by natural occurrences. The Denali National Park and Preserve in Alaska contains 6 million acres of wilderness and houses the highest mountain peak in North America. The 20,310 feet high Denali peak embodies natural beauty and demands sheer astonishment from onlookers. Denali also functions as a monumental figure in the bizarre realm of extreme sports and endurance trials with athletes converging on the site challenging their physical limits on the ultimate stage. Denali may be viewed in sacred terms by outdoor enthusiasts and its existence considered common knowledge by outdoor enthusiasts, but many non-mountain buffs can contribute their knowledge of the site to The North Face. The brand introduced its Denali Fleece Jacket in 1985–Patagonia created its Snap-T Fleece Pullover the same year. The history of its development is difficult to pinpoint, but thankfully Patagonia published the Snap Fleece’s origins, and some manufacturing justifications have to overlap. Both flagship items boast a fleece body, aiming to replace the wool outerwear outdoor enthusiasts routinely utilized. Fleece is lighter, provides greater insulation and dries quicker than its protein-based counterpart. Technological innovations like this were monumental in the mid 1980s, but the Denali jacket remains an extremely popular item. Although its received several makeovers aimed at reducing its environmental impact during production, it remains mostly intact. Minor aesthetic tweaks and color variations are evident with every version, but the silhouette is almost identical. (Gary Warnett wrote a brilliant piece chronicling the history of fleece for Arena Catalog) No one would wear the Denali to attempt an activity of any kind near the jacket’s namesake. The outdoor gear market explodes constantly with new items boasting improved technology and materials. This makes the 37-year-old fleece obsolete for hardcore adventurers in extreme conditions. A climber strictly wearing a Denali couldn’t start a mountain ascent without risking serious health issues. The North Face’s product may be obsolete in the intense outdoors, but the jacket officially eclipsed the narrow category it originated from. For a wide variety of cultural reasons, the fleece reached outerwear fame. Similar to the Levi’s Trucker, Barbour’s wax cotton creations, and Carhartt’s chore jacket, the Denali is iconic. The half dome logo could be plucked out stitch by stitch, but a 10 year old could still shout out the brand name in 2 seconds. Denali jackets are much more popular in malls, campuses and grocery stores than any subzero mountain face. This transition from technical tool to fashionable object is far from rare, Rolex comes to mind, but product longevity is always admirable. I can’t produce any concrete evidence for this, but I imagine the long lifespan inevitably connects its impervious popularity. I vividly remember seeing countless classmates from middle school to college don the infamous fleece. It definitely garnered respect in the pre-teen years, especially the all black rendition. From counter-culture mountain climbers risking their lives to kids in a cafeteria discussing test scores, the product surpassed whatever boundaries it was intended to exist in. Due to the Denali’s popularity, it has naturally run its course through the streetwear reappropriation circuit. In 2008, Supreme partnered with The North Face and created a trio of two-toned options with dual branding. Regardless of whatever convoluted state Supreme currently exists in, I honestly like the bright, candy-colored renditions from 11 years ago. Like most old Supreme collaborations, the jackets are beyond rare and regularly sell for over $1,000. A decade later The North Face Purple Label worked with Beauty & Youth, a brand and retailer under the UNITED ARROWS umbrella. It resulted in a pair of tan and black Denali jackets for a more cultish menswear pairing. Over the past few years, the blog world created countless articles and trend reports focusing on the explosion of fleece and techwear in the influencer-laden fashion realm. Even an untrained eye can see the unmistakable Denali in the never ending stream of related content. People, “fashionable” or not, still enjoy the piece whether they bought a hip streetwear version or a classic rendition.
A quick glance over the item’s description on The North Face’s site and one learns about the Denali’s abrasion-resistant elbows, armpit zipper vents, waist cinch cords, vertical napoleon pocket, and its zip-in compatibility. 34 years later and the item unintentionally has all the overly technical buzz words people love to glare over and recite to any friends, curious or not. These components aren’t necessary for a trip to the coffee shop, but they all contribute to the piece and have some technical reasoning far removed from today’s world. I purchased a used Denali off eBay a few years ago for $8.95 – a significant difference from the $100 retail price. To my knowledge, its from the 90s and features some slight differences from newer versions including branded pull tabs. Although I am far removed from middle school recess, I always wanted one. My curiosity finally overcame me, and I wear it a decent amount. It has some holes near the elastic cuffs and some missing tabs, but that doesn’t bother me at all. I don’t plan on climbing Denali in the foreseeable future. Nike and Wieden + Kennedy create amazing advertisements. It’s no secret the global behemoths put out exceptional work and captivating content regularly. But, Nike’s “Nothing Beats a Londoner” video from early February is my favorite piece of brand content in months.
In typical Nike fashion, the video features countless sports stars including Harry Kane and Alex Iwobi. The video also focuses on Skepta, a U.K. rap artist. The video’s pace and ambiance sets it apart from Nike’s traditional material. It’s over three minutes long, but the shots, composition and dialogue make it seem like a rapid-fire mixture of brilliant ideas. New Nike products are shown, but the focus is more on the distinct nature of Londoners and their athletic activities. The ad attempts to communicate that Londoners are a tough breed and their collective attitude is exemplified in sports by a businesslike, determined nature. The video proposes the average person doesn’t have what it takes to make it in London. It follows people outdoing each other and proving his or her athletic feat is far more difficult. Similar to most Nike advertisements, the feature targets everyone with a body and minor athletic prowess. A wide array of different ages and ethnicities are featured with a miniscule focus on the products. I think the ad is extremely effective in communicating its message. Serious competitors wear Nike, professional or not. London is filled with hardcore, passionate athletes and they choose to support Nike. The ad’s creativity is insurmountable, and it’s a pleasure to watch. The fast cuts and varying camera angles would fit better in a 90s action movie, but the cinematography is perfectly executed. Unexpected transformations and events unfold, but it’s all relevant to a no-frills sportswear company. A skeleton biker gang chases a woman as she jogs through a dark neighborhood. The next moment a soccer manager sits in the clouds like a mythological god and strikes a player with a lightning bolt. Afterward,a skinny adolescent fights back against his bullies and transforms into a giant monster made from clay. Overall, the ad was a brilliant culmination of interesting camera angles and captivating dialogue. I wish more brands would take a risk and create fun, unique content like Nike and Wieden + Kennedy. |
AuthorMax Theriot Archives
November 2019
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