Despite the endless barrage of sounds and smells faced walking through an LSU tailgate, none seem out of place. 40-ft. RVs bursting at the seams with with flat screen TVs, decorations, alcohol, barbecue pits, sound systems, games and food options of any variety are all normal occurrences. Any home football game in Baton Rouge results in the same sight and for a roughly 24 hour window, it’s considered sane. Tiger Stadium goes by many aliases, including a personal favorite I feel summarizes it more accurately than even Death Valley - The Cathedral of College Football. Similar to the “Sunday’s Best” outfits associated with early morning church visits, LSU supporters descend on campus to attend mass in their own delightfully colorful version of worship attire. Nobody bats an eye at 65 year old men in perfectly color coordinated outfits restricted to two colors. Fans have their own individual takes with varying levels of extremity, but purple and gold are the inarguable constants. I don’t know another event where the clothes mimic the atmosphere so perfectly. Everybody on the campus is having pure, unfiltered fun and the outfits perfectly reflect the lighthearted buffoonery on full display. The undeniably Mardi Gras-like colors serve as an amazing excuse to day drink and barbecue. People roam around with clip-on tiger tails, cat ears and facepaint despite the 90-degree weather - it’s superfandom on full display with absolutely no apologies. Most grown men with “normal” careers don’t strut around in purple or gold chinos, but for 24 hours it’s a football fueled party with costumes welcomed. Yes, you could cook 20 slabs of ribs in a suit and tie, but I think they’ll taste better if prepared with a novelty visor with fake yellow hair attached. The heavily devoted venture beyond readily available merch and opt for custom shirts, hats and jerseys embellished with nicknames, tailgating crews, graduate years and anything else deemed worthy of significance. With NikeiD’s limitless options, Shox are a fan favorite I’ve been fortunate enough to see in person on a few devotees. (I’m required to mention Jerry Seinfeld’s slew of custom fan Shox with New York color themes.) Paired with the ability to completely decorate the shoe in purple and gold and “Geaux Tigers” taglines while appearing an inch taller - what’s not to love? As the sky brightens on Sunday morning, many fans make the transition into the ceremonious oxford and khakis for the weekly church visit. It’s a respectable decision the delegation appreciates as most cathedrals across planet earth aren’t accustomed to tigerstripe shirts, harlequin pants and stained championships jerseys, but there is a rather large one in Baton Rouge that livingly accepts the madness. Amen.
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Since mankind spread across the planet, regional differences demanded varying garment types. A Native American hunting buffalo didn’t require the thick fur mantles favored by Nordic clans and African tribes found minimal clothing produced the most benefit in a sun-drenched climate. Despite the distinct variations present for generations, “western wear”, not 10-gallon hats and cowboy boots, infected the earth with Levi’s and sneakers available for purchase on every continent. But long before Saucony partnered with Dunkin' Donuts, footwear fulfilled the vital role of protecting wearers from environmental dangers. When traveling thousands of miles in freezing conditions, deerskins moccasins make the journey slightly more bearable. Besides the obvious technological leaps made since primitive leather shoes, access to a plethora of footwear options has completely altered longstanding norms. Regional limitations continue to decrease as communities gain access to the same products. Italians may love the Air Max 97, but it’s currently available at every mall across the United States, and nothing prohibits a Swedish girl from purchasing a pair of New York’s beloved Air Force 1. For a bevy of reasons beyond sneaker blogs, tastes are constantly intermixing and migrating to lands far away from their alleged origins. But, Asian countries still operate with some sense of individualism when purchasing footwear, with Japan standing out, of course. The country is inseparably linked to legendary collectors, revered brands, regional exclusives and an incomparable taste level that everyone seems to acknowledge as top tier. Japanese fans undoubtedly purchase styles popular in other nations, as Air Max and Boost leave no person untouched. However, their affinity for laceless models always intrigued me. Their stylistic choice are usually respected, but not always replicated, and the love for shoes without laces exemplifies the notion. I’ve always had an affinity for Air Wovens and Instapumps, but very rarely do I see similar models in the United States, and every other country fails in comparison to Japan. When searching for images on Instagram or other online sources, those living on the relatively small island nation dominate the results. Although it may seem trivial or coincidental, the interest stems beyond digital outfit pictures. When thinking of “traditional” Japanese dress, I feel most people reference silk kimonos followed by sandals with tabi socks. Geta, the elevated wooden platform sandals, prevented kimonos from dragging on the ground, and the split-toe design extends across several different traditional models with no laces. Margiela's Tabi Boot definitely brought the form an immense amount of worldwide attention since its 1988 debut, but Nike's own interpretation found success in the tabi's homeland. Nike released the Air Rift, a split-toe sneaker modeled after barefoot Kenyan runners, in 1996. Although the shoe stems from an Africa, Japanese enthusiasts fully embraced the seemingly modern take on tabi. The highly influential, moodboard-appropriate Harajuku scene in the early 2000s consistently featured stylish fans decked out in era-appropriate outfits finished with the unmistakable sneaker. It’s not a shocking revelation, but it’s extremely interesting how the culture wholeheartedly adopted a modern rendition of a style introduced centuries ago. Iridescent mesh and swoosh branding were lacking from historical pairs, but the dominant feature remained untouched. Hypebeast briefly explored Japan’s fondness for laceless options with a 2016 article examining the Instapump’s success in Asian markets. Steven Smith's design bears no resemblance to any traditional model and seems better suited for a universe-hopping astronaut. Nevertheless, the community fostered a deep attachment to the model after Jackie Chan lent his name to a neon green and grey rendition. (A pair released in 1997 commemorating China gaining sovereignty over Hong Kong from Great Britain – which I guess is a respectable move by a British brand.) I’m not 100 percent sure if Jackie Chan’s name is still important enough to credit all sales to him, but modern stars like South Korean actor Kim Soo-hyun wear the model and are extremely influential style sources throughout Asia. In conjunction with popular Asian brands like Beams, Bape, Atmos, X-Girl and Gundam , the shoe reached heights unmatched by other countries. (The Instapump looks incredibly like a mech’s foot) And if any further validation for the shoe’s importance is needed, Hiroshi Fujiwara says it’s the only Reebok shoe he has worn. With its multi-colored hues and deceptively simple construction, the Nike Air Woven remains in my top five favorites. The colorways alone warrant a gold medal, and even recent retros haven’t been butchered. Since the shoe’s initial Japan-only, release with Hiroshi Fujiwara-designed colors in 2000, the sneaker skyrocketed to stardom. In my mind, the shoe epitomizes hardcore, early 2000s Japanese shoe collecting. When I think obscure, lo-fi, early HTML sneaker websites, rainbow HTM Air Wovens fly through my peripherals. At this point, every indie movie “aficionado” and Nike fan notes Bill Murray wears a HTM pair in “Lost in Translation”, which takes place in 2003 Tokyo. Perfect. (Hiroshi makes a brief cameo in the film and I’ve always assumed he was somehow connected to Murray’s pair.) Japan’s interest in laceless options still alters releases years later and terrorizes nonresidents like myself. Reebok’s Beatnik aligns more with a sandal than a sneaker, but the country’s fondness resulted in a Japan-only release for a slew of new colorways and a Nepenthes-specific release for the brands’ collaboration. Searches for pairs result in foreign web addresses with intimidating strings of unrecognizable text filling the page followed by a defeated sigh and a closed laptop. We’re still paying for nation’s good taste. The Beatnik definitely coincides with the Japanese outdoor style obsession – which continues to explode across the globe - and its bizarrely jagged, shark tooth outsole still excites fans. I imagine a wider release will ensue, but until that destined time vintage Japanese magazine photos with massive text overlays and oddly cheerful designs fuel my desire. As Suicoke consistently insults themselves with absurd collaborations - Palm Angels? Really? - and my older ACG sandals face inevitable deterioration, I gladly welcome a suede hiking sandal with a center-seam construction hijacked from a burlap feed sack. The Japanese have impeccable sartorial prowess and although affected somewhat by outside sources, retain an aspirational level of individualism. “They’re popular in Japan,” still causes people to envision fashion-forward, slightly avant-garde items that still retain high desirability. Laces, a fundamental component of shoe design in the western world, were never deemed essential in Japan, and the country’s interest in models continues past the time of feudalism and samurai.
When tallying the general population for the most fashionable decade ever, the 1970s finishes near the top for most popular answer. Discos, afros, fringe jackets, headbands, bell-bottoms and everyone’s favorite style icons, Hippies, have some traces and origins in the time frame. Even if people don’t actually love all of this, they love talking about it. I definitely respect the seemingly endless cascade of noteworthy items and buzzwords and tip my hat to men in polyester suits, but my admiration for the decade stems from shirtless dudes rocketing out of swimming pools on small wooden boards. Although skateboarders now seem to be the poster boys for “cool, hip, young, rebellious fashion icons”, things got seriously lost in translation stylistically over 40 years. Board shapes and in-vogue tricks change - totally understandable. But, Nike SBs, baggy Dickies and Supreme shirts just don’t give off the same feeling. (Just to be clear, I would much rather be wearing these items when jumping down staircases.) When I was 14 I was completely enthralled/borderline obsessed with the ethereal Z-Boys and all the eventual Dogtown affiliates. Being Lebron or Kobe seemed great, but switching places with Jay Adams or Tony Alva was infinitely more appealing. Essentially inventing a globally-accepted sport and the burgeoning industry/culture that accompanied it with 1970s California serving as the backdrop sounds more like a 2005 movie plot (Obviously, Lords of Dogtown was a childhood favorite.) than a historical event. Regardless, it was something I wished I was a part of. They could surf, skate, had super long hair AND a problem with authority figures - I saw absolutely no downside. Besides the setting and notoriously innovative skills, the decade’s list of legendary skaters fostered an enviable style that lives on through photographs, films, movie remakes, and the occasional Halloween costume. The 70s notorious fashion choices are well documented and admired, but Vans, tube socks and shorts - scared of any skin remotely near the knee - are directly linked to the era’s skateboarding stars. In this case, I assume form followed function, and the outfit is a result of the decade’s logical choices and available items. Vans are an unapologetically California-based label with a waffle sole appropriate for skateboards. In that same vein, it’s the West Coast, why would you wear anything besides shorts (Corduroy was an extremely popular fabric at the time, and these photos prove even shorts fell victim.) and a t-shirt? If it’s hot, lose the shirt and look even slicker. I’m sure there are some stylistic roots in surf culture crossing over, but wetsuits will never look cool, and they can’t be worn in the streets. I also definitely consider disco a 70s sport, but platform heels and polyester suits don’t translate into proper athletic attire. As skating grew up and money poured in, the inevitable flood of sponsors and companies arrived. Bare chests quickly got replaced with Logan, G&S and eventually Alva logos. (None quite as cool as the original navy Zephyr Competition Team shirts.) I’m sure it’s considered a sad moment by many, but I’m a fiend for some well-branded commercialization, and none of the vintage team merch disappoints. Of all the popular subcultural groups with colorful histories and stereotypes – car fanatics always near the top of my mind. For a distinct subset of people, it’s an extremely varied group. 80-year-olds cruising the coast in big body Chevrolets occupy the same space as teenage boys drifting in kitted-out Mustangs. Being from the South it’s my duty/right to mention the men with monster truck-esque personal vehicles disfigured to a point far beyond showroom quality. Despite the changing nuances and flavors, cars are not a trend. These metal beasts have fulfilled a vital role for people since their inception. But, every time I open Instagram or venture onto the internet I’m subject to seeing more and more fashion brands utilize and straight up hijack car-related imagery. Far from the “distressed” Ford shirts sold at Wal-Mart, companies across the fashion gamut are playing off of vehicles for the purpose of desirable apparel. Nascar jackets had a brief stint a few decades back, but this is different - and features far less embroidery. A lot of brands I would describe as “cutesy” are pirating references and logos from things once reserved for guys drag racing Camaros behind shopping centers late night. One particular vehicle stands out far above the rest in terms of popularity and consistent moodboard appearances. 90s Land Rover are everywhere. You may be shocked at just how many photos showcasing 30-year-old SUVs appear on a daily basis. From barraging through jungles and pushing through earth-spanning excursions, these have become the undisputed vehicular mascot of fashion/lifestyle moodboards. No retro, adventurous, outdoorsy, 90s-centric profile is complete without at least one Land Rover Discovery. But, I get it. The big square, rugged frames exude that retro, sporty aesthetic that has its clamps firmly tightened on the fashion world. And to be completely fair and honest, a lot of the vintage photographs and advertisements are pretty sick. For some reason, safari shots with a 2004 Honda Civic lack the same effect. But as things often go now, the original interest and genuine fandom gets muddled with nonstop reposts because the vehicle has now become and Instagram ~ thingthrough certain channels. I highly doubt anyone who actually owns the car is aware of his or her vehicle’s rapidly expanding online presence, but I feel it’s been crawling toward an apex for the past few years. If I had to trace the car’s bubbling popularity back, I think its big bang started within the vintage community. Which as Procell’s expanding hit list of vintage-turned-modern fashion obsession shows - this isn’t very shocking. My earliest internet memories regarding the vehicle don’t even involve the actual car now, but instead Land Rover embellished sweatshirts and hats. (@black_zuckerberg’s Instagram is definitely the best collection of these vintage items paired with accurate time frames for reference.) Everyone goes ballistic for a grey Champion blank and some simple green screen-printing with an undeniably cool, aspirational brand symbolizing wealth and adventure. It combines for an object people want. But nothing gold can stay, and I’m witnessing similar items appear nonstop. Some took their newfound infatuation outside the digital sandbox and brought new items to life with vintage Land Rover sensibility. For vehicles with notoriously bad reliability, these beasts won’t die. New York label Aimé Leon Dore literally plastered the Range Rover’s unmistakable outline across shirts, key chains and polos. In a similar gesture, moodboard queen Emily Oberg opted for a straight logo riff for her appropriately named “Sporty & Rich” line. (Land Rovers are seen countless times on the brand’s corresponding moodboard/inspiration page – yes, these things exist.) Tribute or travesty? Appropriating logos and luxury brands for apparel isn’t a new phenomenon, but the Land Rover imagery seems a little played out and too internet friendly. It’s starting to remind me of the unreal spike in Grateful Dead “merch”/tie-dye and the subsequent landslide of brands rushing to capitalize off it – MAYBE the first 10 attempts were okay. Outside the realm of English-made sporting vehicles, I think an uptick in car-related clothing can still be argued. Gazing back a few years I can’t recall any brands 100 percent dedicated to car clothing like L'Art de L'automobile. Arthur Kar’s automobile collection and garments have both become internet candy for fashion kids and gearheads since the brand’s inception. Hordes of people who definitely don’t have driver’s licenses can be found lurking in packs around fashion week in shirts boasting a Volkswagen Golf GTI. What a world. Determined to make everyone look like a F1 driver, the trend also invaded the footwear category. Of all the bizarre crossover collaborations that exist for some unjust reason, quite a few reside in this realm. Cars fulfill the same role as shoes in the most basic sense of comfortably getting from Point A to Point B, but most of the projects lack any real purpose. Ferrari and Puma have an ongoing fling and every outcome leaves me pretty stumped. Porsche’s relationship with Adidas makes a little more sense, and the outcomes are interesting to look at. (Land Rover has also kept recent collaborations limited to fellow countrymen through projects with Paul Smith and Barbour.) Obviously Porsche fanatics would never be seen leaving the brokers’ office wearing Vans. Yuck. Shame on me for thinking German engineering can’t venture beyond fancy engines and oversized spoilers to a pair of $500 Adidas Bounce. Despite the waterfall of new brands with a renewed sense of automotive prowess, nothing really beats the originals. But, why buy a logo referencing Land Rover when various pieces from the brand’s original Land Rover Gear line are still available? (They made excellent pants!) A French car/fashion brand collaborating with DSM sounds great to some, but I’m too easily swooned by the shirts commemorating cross-country rallies and meet ups designed by car fanatics with absolutely no interest in securing a European fashion co-sign. Over 25 years ago, Fuct flipped Ford’s logo and the result was an extremely important and recognizable moment in fashion history. In a rather bizarre, head-scratching moment, Versace collaborated (legally) with the same American vehicle titan on an insanely poor collection of garments with the iconic blue oval plastered over them an ungodly amount of times. Things definitelychange over time, but fashion’s soirée with car brands is nothing new. As the world grows more sympathetic to public transit and other energy-efficient options, maybe clothing with vehicular graphics will be last remaining pillar of car culture in a few generations. It’s hard to call. But if moodboards still exist when we have flying cars, I guarantee some 900-year-old Land Rover photos will still pop up. When configuring the list of “Most Impressive Feats”, resurrection stands near the top. The literal death-defying act made famous by religious figures, mythological beings and underachieving sport franchises is often completed in a more cyclical method by clothing brands. Occasionally less glorious than its religious counterparts, most companies are in a never-ending balancing act for relevancy. With countless brands fighting in the same space for the same crowd at the same time, it has never been easy. Some manage to adapt and survive while others thrive on consistent offerings and never stray too far in the red. (I don’t know if Polo hasn’t been somewhat cool/relevant/acceptable in the past 30 years.) Many will plummet off the tightrope and exist in a state of semi-struggle until the casket eventually closes. Abercrombie & Fitch wasn’t meant to exist past 2008. It’s always fun to watch the bad ones teeter into oblivion, and the incessant death is a fundamental part of any capitalist cycle - Darwin’s theories apply shockingly well to Balmain and JNCO. Although I love the carnage associated with big brand demise, happy endings usually provide more to talk about. If one brand had to embody the entire “streetwear scene” from inception to modern age, most would throw Stussy in as the ringleader. As expected from any company with a near 40-year history spanning different cultures, consumers, owners and technology – ups ands downs are pretty common. Shawn Stussy’s hip California surf brand exists far beyond the original Stussy tribes dotted around the globe. His symbolic scrawling signature still lives as an instantly recognizable emblem packed with incomparable history. People would claim I’m idiotic for even hinting that Stussy ever fumbled during its ongoing tenure, but I see an evident decline from roughly 2007 to 2013. (Honestly, I’m not even a fan of the Nike collaborations released during this period.) Once again, the spotlight isn’t the most comfortable location for brands to live in, and Stussy’s misstep aligns with a rough era for a lot of clothing companies. Karmaloop took a lot of hostages and very few crawled out alive. Despite Shawn Stussy, the living, breathing embodiment of Stussy cool, departing from the brand in 1996, the train steadily rolled into the new millennium backed by celebrities, skater dudes and fashion fanatics. (I don’t think referring to the brand as Polo-esque should be deterred. Mass appeal, and global brand power usually result in inarguable, objective success.) Thanks to the internet’s ongoing love affair with anything from the late 1990s and early 2000s, Juergen Teller’s slice of life/indie/tastefully bland/surprisingly natural campaigns have received notable attention in the moodboard era. Paul Mittleman entered his role as Creative Director around the same time and the resulting collections and imagery were super clean with no shortage of early Y2K trends that people still champion. The clothes were quite distinct from the letterman jackets donning Stussy’s scribbled signature and significantly toned down from the 80s and 90s – which I view as an immense positive. The clothing aligned with the time frame, and Teller provided fantastic photos to reinforce the brand’s image. It’s obvious Stussy understood the immense importance of good marketing – whether cool skate guys want to admit it or not – it has always been a major focus for the brand. As the newly-minted decade wore on and Teller’s ads ceased, the brand entered an interesting patch filled with scarves, ugly prints, massive logos and awful beanies. Streetwear companies in the mid 2000s were crazy. For a brand with such an insane track record, you hate to see collections so closely resemble Mishka. But, it’s still kind of awesome. It could be the nostalgia-tinged respect for brands like BAPE and Billionaire Boys Club who absolutely dominated the era, but it’s just funny – and noteworthy – to see such a historically good brand lose its step. I can’t blame Stussy for falling in line with industry trends and consumer demands, and context is everything, but the era favored some absurd, objectively bad items. (So many insane hats!) For whatever reason, fedoras, flannels, mustaches and some weird military scarf/ascot dominate the Spring 2007 lookbook. A lot of the looks remind me of those awful J.C. Penny catalogs with dads playing backyard football and families jumping up together in joyous unison. I don’t want the catalog in my mailbox, and I really don’t want you short sleeve plaids. I just can’t get over the model with the mustache. He’s too close to some youth minister that’s overly excited to tell you about his work AND he’s been thinking about moving to Santa Cruz. His hats make everything worse. This year’s Spring collection featured some t-shirts flipping popular candy logos, which considering the time and everything, I think some are pretty cool in a guilty pleasure kind of way. But, any ounce of surmounting respect is instantly blown away by the Fall drop. Again, the weird novelty fedoras and chauffer caps come to play. The all brown and pink look is INSANE. Wow! If this image was shown to people, I cant imagine they would ever associate it with a Stussy campaign. This eleven-year old comment on the Hypebeast article sums it up pretty well, “aye real talk these outfits kinda whack” – mzfresh. The lookbook also featured some women’s options. I’m not sure how popular this practice was in 2008, but it’s definitely a positive. I love the attempt at gender equality, and Stussy provided equally bad options for females. The beanie, leggings and Keds form an immaculate, unholy trinity. In comparison to how good the brand’s current women offerings are, it’s a shocker. But, you have to crawl before you can walk. Although this year did see a collaborative t-shirt range with legendary cartoonist Peter Bagge, it’s not enough to forgive the sins committed by the Fall collection. I can try to make excuses, but I’m not sure any will suffice for the barrage of 3D campaign pictures. I guess the graphic design capabilities rose too fast, and the team got a little carried away. Honestly, I’m at a complete loss of words for this one. As bad as the imagery is, the clothes aren’t helping at all. Fast forward a few years, and I think we land at the darkest spot in Stussy’s history. By this point, I was fully engaged with online shopping and all the relevant blogs and websites. These collections fully embody all the things that went wrong then. The looks are complete mash-ups, pulling from every Karmalopp-esque trend imaginable. The unsightly floral print, beanies and Charlie Brown hoodies encapsulate a certain time, and Stussy made the perfect photo album if we ever want to revisit. As the era cooled off in terms of ridiculousness, Stussy shifted alongside it and landed on solid ground again. The clothes start regaining some character and recognizable Stussy flair. Tyronne Lebon deserves a lot of credit helping the brand resemble something of its former self. Similar to Teller, his campaigns push me to engage with the brand and pay more attention. Lebon’s work is extremely imaginative and exudes some weird, energetic creativity – unlike brown fedoras ands striped scarves - that pairs well with Stussy’s recent collections. The Lebon-shot campaigns are some of my favorite fashion photographs.
Image is crucial for Stussy. But, due to the company’s size and popularity it exists in a weird little space. It’s hard to be sold in every Urban Outfitters store across America while also trying to convince people the brand still maintains an exciting creative direction. I don’t think Stussy is trying to trick people into believing its still some west coast surf/skate brand, but being in Urban Outfitters can make it seem like the opposite is true. It’s harsh for me to say the brand died during this period, but the offerings ventured a little too close to Crooks & Castles and 10.Deep for my liking. These collections are truly victims of circumstance and a rough patch for trends, but for some reason I refuse to say I hate them. The clothing just isn’t good, and I feel absolutely no inclination to wear anything, but it’s an interesting little slice of history – just unbelievably ugly. Of all the musical gods who have transcended their initial expertise and crossed into the halls of fashion stardom, I strongly feel Rick Nielsen and his otherworldly contributions fail to get the necessary acknowledgment. The Cheap Trick guitarist’s lack of Bowie’s genderfluid spacesuit, Hendrix’s exaggerated lace and Cobain’s mohair cardigans immediately dispel him from the pointless conversation of “best dressed musician”, but the man’s wardrobe reached icon status without a doubt. The upturned cycling cap, detailed knitwear and checkerboard obsession will never be mistaken for anyone besides Nielsen, but my interest peaked for reasons outside his most popular possessions. I’m not sure what spurned my Cheap Trick Google image search, but I vividly remember the glittering footwear on Nielsen that made me freeze mid-scroll and eek out a disbelieving “No fucking way.” The man had multicolor HTM Air Wovens. A shoe completely irrelevant to some and far from a rockstar’s typical arsenal of snakeskin boots and scuffed Converse, but they’re an undeniable monument of early 2000s sneaker fandom and a huge personal favorite. Celebrity shoe choices are rarely shocking as people with unlimited money and access can essentially obtain piece desired. But, Nielsen didn’t choose a rare, hype-tinged sneaker, designer loafers or any type of remotely popular silhouette. A shoe like the Air Woven signals an informed decision; it doesn’t just happen into a wardrobe. Enthralled by the interesting choice, I dived deeper into Google’s pages and was continually met with snapshots of Nielsen performing with a five-neck guitar and strutting down the red carpet in an absurdly cool variety of Air Wovens and similarly offbeat Nike models. (Bonus points for the checkered Sock Racers, I had no clue those existed.) His fashion sense is well documented, and I grew comfortably accustomed to the checked sweater and cycling cap combo. But unbeknownst to me, his style progressed past Cheap Trick’s heyday. Although his high-top, black Asics are a historic finish to his onstage outfits, his preference seemingly switched to “weird” Nike models during the early to mid-2000s. Once again, fantastic shoes but far from an obvious choice. Nielsen is clearly a fashionable guy, and I’m not attempting to discredit his ability to pick a good pair – the man has several iconic looks attached to his name – but I’m interested in how his fondness developed. Nielsen may have simply just seen the shoes, liked them and purchased. But, that ‘s a bit boring, and I can’t help but imagine a bigger, more entertaining story behind his affinity. Japan loved Cheap Trick, and the band saw immense success in the country. The Japanese also adore the Air Woven with countless special releases and colorways blessing the country (The model itself was a Japan exclusive for a period of time.) I don’t think it’s too much of an unfounded leap for Nielsen to have seen the shoes during an overseas stay and grew attached. I hope there’s some shreds of truth in my hypothetical Japanese love story, but after discovering an an article discussing Nielsen’s style, I stumbled on to some possible evidence for his sartorial decision. According to Cheap Trick’s photographer and Nielsen’s childhood friend, his obsession for monochrome checkerboard print objects stems back from watching static dance across a television. The man is absolutely enthralled with the pattern – it even covers his John Deere tractor. Bizarre. In a rather anticlimactic fashion, I realized a blatantly obvious fact. Most Air Woven colorways form a checked print. Nielsen’s footwear nepotism may be driven less by historic Japanese tours and more on a continued fixation for clothing with alternating color blocks. (Sneaker Freaker highlighted a Steven Smith-designed Footscape 2 made especially for Nielsen– utilizing black and white checks of course.) Thankfully he chose Air Wovens over Vans’ infamous checked Slip-Ons favored by eight graders and 35-year-old men with gauges.
Even if the Japan connection is a far-flung, self-serving conspiracy theory, he still radiate cool, and I view his choices as the ultimate in zany celebrity sneaker collecting. Nielsen’s unwavering checkerboard allegiance resulted in him wearing one of the coolest, historically important shoes. For a 70-year-old rockstar, I’m thoroughly impressed. Although he doesn’t break out his signature ensembles anymore, the shoes remain a subtle little nod to some of music’s best outfits. Every season sneakers are allegedly dying, dead or far from the ‘’it” footwear item. The never-ending barrage of retros, collaborations, and trendy releases can lead to many seeking alternatives from anything with laces or hints of athletic prowess. Despite the morbid claims, I don’t think athletic trainers are going to lose any popularity as the world’s dress code continues to drop, but I’ve been fervently searching substitutes for my standard loafers, sandals and sneakers repertoire. I wasn’t quite sure how my Shrangi-La would materialize, but I wanted no trace of any typical footwear products. Safe bets were not what I was looking for. The idea of some type of mule or clog intrigued me as the silhouette becomes increasingly accepted as male-appropriate. Society’s green light doesn’t means much, but it’s encouraging to see popular brands readily producing similar items for men. Personally, comfortable footwear reigns undefeated and backless footwear stands as a qualified candidate worthy to pursue. With a basic blueprint swirling through my conscience, I was on 24/7 high alert for the loosely-defined yet sought-after item I knew I needed but failed to pinpoint. My desperate dream started to fade into frustrated lust as another pair of retro trainers tempted me from my path to footwear enlightenment, but a saving grace appeared on the runway during London Fashion Week. Along with translucent serial killer masks, paisley suiting and another Converse rendition, Paria Farzaneh’s SS20 show included the item I was unknowingly hoping to find. The glorious reward for my suffering – cowhide clogs. I never imagined the spotted combination would intrigue me to such a high degree, but I couldn’t shake the feeling and the immediate need to purchase. Despite the relief of finally locating my footwear solution, the victory lap abruptly ended. When I see appealing items skip down the catwalk, I’m automatically assuming the inevitable obliteration of my bank account. My emotional investment in the animal skin beasts was high, but after some rationalization I figured the clogs might be an unfair tease and my doomed odyssey would continue. My worst fear was the item potentially being a preview of an upcoming collaboration or some in-house creation with a price point serving as an insurmountable obstacle blocking my purchase. It’s a common, difficult-to-accept situation, but I was shown salvation then immediately forced to look away. However, I refused to continue onward without indisputable, soul-crushing evidence the shoes were 100 percent out of my league. After some online digging I was found the culprit responsible for the furry creations and landed on the website of a traditional Austrian shoemaking company with production dating back to the 1920s. Checkpoint reached. Much to my delight, the shoes weren’t a result of some avant-garde partnership or designer fever dream, – they cost about $170 – they’re handcrafted by Woody, a small, playful operation with a serious product lineup. Although there’s a variety of colors, models and textures, the company’s clear, unrivaled focus is wood-sole clogs. Despite the dizzying array of options attempting to lure me away, my eyes were locked onto the cowhide makeup featured in Farzaneh’s show. My holy grail was revealed to be a furry, backless clog perched upon a thick wooden sole – exactly what I hoped for. You would think with Woody’s high fashion cosign, European heritage, admirable craftsmanship, approachable pricing and trend-friendly colors, the company would have accumulated a decent sized global following in its 97 year history. But, I was pleasantly shocked to see less than 4,000 people follow the brand’s Instagram, and I can’t find any mention of it on the usual blogs or websites. Woody doesn’t produce the most conventional items, but to escape fashion’s vast-reaching grip in the 21stcentury is an unheard of accomplishment. The lack of recognition caused me to ask myself, are they that weird? Not a chance, that rule doesn’t exist in footwear currently. Perhaps a bit too hairy? Unlikely, deep-pile fleeces and wispy mohair sweaters are running wild on the internet. I don’t think either of the previous rationale are necessarily true, but besides the lack of empathy for PETA supporters, an underground Austrian footwear company won’t stay unknown forever in today’s clog-friendly environment. Besides the Mogwai-like hide Woody utilizes, the standard clog silhouette is eerily similar to other options soaring in the menswear dimension. It’s essentially a Birkenstock Boston with a beefed up sole and bigger, pilgrim-hat style buckle. Although on the opposite end of the materials spectrum, Crocs share various strands of DNA with Woody’s creations, and the brightly-colored clogs are still a popular fashion plaything, ironic or not.
Regardless of potential comparisons, an eyebrow will be raised when Woody’s Lukas Fell – fell is German for fur – are worn. At first glace an onlooker may assume the shoes belong to some European shepherd guiding his flock across some oft-forgotten mountain trail or an overly eclectic art dealer doing his best to move some B-grade impressionist works. With a shoe like this, imaginations can run wild when devising logical backstories. (After racking my brain, I can’t think of anything excessively creative for a twenty something in Yeezys.) It was a weird, drifting journey, but I landed directly on the bullseye I wasn’t sure existed. I don’t know what my excitement says about my current footwear interests, but a pair of spotted, comically furry, wood-sole clogs brought me refuge from the influx of trainers infiltrating my timeline. Athletic shoes certainly aren’t fading away, but a world where people wear shoes like Woody’s seems a lot more fun. New Orleans may pop up on national news coverage for select occasions, but the city is typically left to its own southern devices, for better or worse. When the city does make headlines, the usual culprits are often sports, crime, hurricanes, festivities, political corruption or some comically absurd combination of the six. Per usual, the city’s extended media debut coincided with one of the worst natural disasters in history, Hurricane Katrina. In typical New Orleans fashion, the absurdity stretched far beyond the mythical flood levels that literally turned a major American city into Atlantis. The lack of government response, poor city planning, and shady political dealings in the storm’s aftermath are well documented. Countless media reports, books, and eyewitness accounts expose the mélange of emotions citizens experienced, but one oft-overlooked medium perfectly summarizes the population’s general consensus in a sharp, lively, fashionable way – t-shirts. Cotton blanks always evolve into a viable form of commentary and protest following a major event. (How many pro or anti-Trump shirts have you seen since his inaguration?) The items typically boast crude, outlandish graphics exaggerating or making light of the occurrence in a childish but admirably clever way. The shirts made in response to Katrina definitely follow that vague outline, but I honestly find them even more amusing and over the top. It could be my bias as a lifelong Louisiana resident, but I wholeheartedly admire the shirts’ eccentric, unpolished graphics and all-encompassing reach – fingers were pointed at FEMA, looters, police officers and government officials. It has to be the most tongue-in-cheek/mock serious form of protest. After losing their homes, loved ones and careers, residents are still eager to wear a giant middle finger across their chests. (Another perfect example being the "Free Sean Payton" shirts created as a response to his Bounty Gate suspension.) It’s the quintessential New Orleans attitude, it’s beautiful. There’s has to be a million different iterations of shirts assaulting NOPD, FEMA, the federal government and Ray Nagin – the Chocolate City incident spawned insane “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” rip-offs – but, due to the recency of Katrina’s 2005 landfall a large number were documented on the internet. (Much love to the mid-2000s blog scene for snapping countless photos of Bourbon Street’s hilarious products.) Of all the ludicrous themes, the Katrina Blue Roof Christmas reigns as the clear winner. In a pretty eloquent approach the shirt encapsulates a reference to the lack of government aid after the storm – damaged homes sat with blue tarps serving as improvised roofing as a result of FEMA’s hilariously inept Blue Roof initiative – coupled with a classic Elvis Presley holiday song and prominent officials displayed as "The Three Stooges" for their administration’s collective failure surrounding the event. Katrina was a cataclysmic event that logistically could have only hit a select number of locations, New Orleans obviously being one. A catastrophe unique enough to be famously labeled as a “100-year” storm struck one of the most bizarre, unorthodox cities on the globe. And in typical New Orleanian fashion, the response to the unparalleled destruction, government shortcomings and mental anguish was fashionably delivered with a slight grin and a not-so-sly “Fuck You. “ Adidas or Nike? The divisive, hot-button debate topic spawning insults, comparisons, questionable smirks, and the occasional comradery continues to lose steam every season. Although the two giants dominate the footwear spectrum, brands traditionally less popular in the United States continue rising to cultural relevancy instead of a bronze third place trophy. Brands constantly float through brief popularity spurs while reacting to current industry interests. I don’t think K-Swiss' recent push in the sneaker world will ever thoroughly intrigue me, but I can't stop thinking about Asics’ advancements over the past decade encompassing interesting collaborations, innovations and sways in public opinion. The brand’s athletic roots and semi-popularity aren’t exceedingly rare, countless brands dwell in the mediocrity doldrums for varying periods of sneaker purgatory. But, the company’s actions over the past decade repositioned it as one of the quintessential, in-the-know sneaker brands of the moment when it could have easily fallen back to relative obscurity after its initial push. Asics’ current uptick can’t be traced to its Olympic pedigree or "Kill Bill" cameo. The brands definitive separation between Asics and Onitsuka Tiger clearly places models like the Mexico 66 and Ultimate 81 far from the frontline. (Thank god. Those were attached to some dude with a faux hawk and cut-off chino shorts.) The man commonly associated with the brand’s initial resurgence, Ronnie Fieg, undoubtedly pushed the brand into an excited, viable consumer base with his string of successful collaborations. Fieg heavily favored the Gel-Lyte III with its iconic split tongue and the GT-II, using both models frequently for his sell-out projects. The timespan surrounding Fieg’s work and Asics’ modern rise is my absolute favorite. I was never a massive fan of matching joggers and five-panel hats, but the outfit defined an era filled with artsy, heavily edited on-foot sneaker photos that commonly featured rain puddles and mid-jump still frames for some bizarre reason. But, I like to think we had to survive the locust swarm of grown men showcasing their sneakers with pinrolled jeans and embrace the biblical suffering for the brand to move forward. In regards to the shoes’ construction, Fieg’s use of exotic materials like pigskin suede definitely triggered a movement in shoe design and material selection. It’s hard to coin a new colorway, but the man has several to his name. He deserves credit for bringing salmon and rose gold to the sneaker lexicon - I think he used it before Apple. Fieg’s Asics plunder eventually cooled off, but the brand’s mainline remained strong as fashion tilted away from Karmaloop hauls and wooden watches to phrases like “techwear” and “dad shoes”. Asics’ reliance on turbo-charged retros faded as fashion enthusiasts adopted modern options. Popular retros still release on a regular basis including models like the Gel Mai, and Kayano 5, but none as successful as their new counterparts. Consumers’ overt obsession with 90s models can quickly lead to stale releases, but I’ve always admired Asics’ general releases for the superb designs and phenomenal colorways - absolutely the best mainline sneaker colors on the market – and its work is culminating together at the perfect time. Chunky retro runners still fill store shelves, but sleek, athletic-looking, slightly nonchalant but overtly technical options are clearly a heavy favorite. With consumer's interest correlating with brand releases, Asics' recent popularity indicates a strong resurgence distinct from Fieg’s reign. With collaborations featuring Kiko Kostadinov, Awake NY, Vivienne Westwood and Affix Works, the stage is set for a continued rise with a focus on the future. The pastel suedes and rope laces featured heavily in Fieg's early work just looks out of place in a realm dominated by mesh panels and abnormally shaped soles. For the first time in brand history, Asics let a collaborator, Kostadinov, create new performance tooling for a project. Unfortunately, we may not see the new shoes paired with a corresponding five panel and pinrolled Levi’s, a sad loss but a greater gain After a five-minute trial and error session, I can successfully list less than 10 products that Disney has never made outside of car radiators and 3-D printers. The fabled mouse and his world-famous counterparts emblazon everything imaginable. Disney branding crosses into any sector with no hesitation, and the recognizable silhouettes appear everywhere. With products ranging from juice boxes to phone cases, it’s no shock that a collaborative footwear project falls within the boundaries. From 2013 to 2018, Disney partnered with New Balance for cross-branded shoes, coinciding with the annual runDisney World Marathon in Orlando. Although the company’s production capabilities should never be questioned - it literally built Pandora – the brand consistently works with footwear companies outside the all-encompassing Disney portfolio. But, regardless of how cute the Crocs or Vans are, the New Balances fulfill a different purpose. Although Disney collaborated with other athletic shoe companies like Reebok and Asics, the New Balance collections were the prized jewel for the insanely loyal fan base. Similar to other limited releases, teaser images drop and the Disney blog world explodes with rumors surrounding price, resale prospects, availability, and purchase locations. The same hysteria experienced by modern sneaker fanatics is replicated verbatim by adults wearing mouse ears. But, for some reason I respect people waiting in line for a shoe with fairy wings more than dudes fist fighting for a Jordan retro. It’s not exceedingly common to see a demographic outside the internet/fashion/sneaker “culture” go ballistic over a new sneaker, but it’s amazing. I have no real data to support this statement beyond common knowledge, but the selected New Balance models escape the regular gamut of “cool” – whether ironically or not – New Balance models to wear. Ronnie Fieg and No Vacancy Inn aren’t creating a collaborative Vazee Pace. (The only exception is the 2015 990 with Steamboat Mickey and Minnie Mouse, but it wasn’t a dad shoe-focused world at that point.) It’s amazing to see a crowd allegedly in the “unknown” enter a genuine frenzy. After a deep dive into Disney forums, brand experts suspect the runDisney collaboration is finished, but I truly believe if it continued the products would undoubtedly cross over into the mainstream fashion realm. A limited edition, collaborative dad shoe in garish colorways. That’s far too many 2019 buzzwords for it to fall short. (Fans are extremely excited for Adidas’ Toy Story 4 project.) The shoes are perfectly on trend without the fans or companies entirely knowing so. In recent years especially, New Balance’s 990 catapulted into cool, semi-normcore, in the know fashion stardom. And to no surprise, the men’s 990 is the hardest pair to locate on the second-hand market. Whether referencing a popular attraction or character, the shoes strongly resemble a Hoka clashed with Asics’ unapologetically bright colors. (The Dumbo Vazee, a personal favorite, has an identical color scheme to a woman’s Gel Nimbus 21 – currently sold out in the largest sizes, which I’m assuming is a consequence of men opting for a brighter option.) The mass population could easily dismiss the Little Mermaid and Donald Duck iterations as hideous, but the cultural trend surrounding ugly, kitsch clothing requires no further explanation. It may seem odd that a fashionable group would adopt animated icons into its wardrobe, but Gucci’s recent collaboration proves the thought incorrect. Similar to everything else in the Disney universe, the New Balance project was unapologetically fun, imaginative and bright. |
AuthorMax Theriot Archives
November 2019
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