The New York Fashion Geek

Reg will say that knowing what looks good and what is cool has simply been part of his life since birth. He means it. I think he’s right.

Who he is, where he was, and when, built a foundation of classic rules with an authentic streak of Hip-Hop freshness. That is where he started. Now he’s in Brooklyn (New Yorker for life) and the 80’s are over (for now), so why should I, or you, care?

Because he does.

Because he still looks at everything, pays attention, and talks to everyone. He casually dropped the name of GQ’s current editor and referenced an article in Rake so I am inclined to believe him when he claims he keeps the entire magazine business afloat. I found him through his podcast. Or rather, his podcast found me when he interviewed Marcel from X of Pentacles. Chris Cox tipped me on to Marcel’s work some time ago and I started following him. The interwebs suggested I go listen to a podcast with Marcel as a guest and I fell face-first down the podcast rabbit hole wherein I started following Reg. Reg talks to everyone.

He even spoke to me.

Knowing what looks good is a matter of opinion. Knowing how to create, or style oneself, into a particular look is a matter of training.

This is to say we all have our opinions, and who am I, or you, to say whose is wrong or right, but, and this can be a big butt (wink), there are some things that can be learned or taught to help a person achieve particular looks. If that is what one wants.

You can hire Reginald Ferguson to go through your closet for some help figuring out what looks good, or he can take you to a tailor, but what you get would be more than just his opinion. He will give instructions, principles, generational wisdom, and also some opinion. All of which has value. He is in the business of passing down what was given to him, combined with what he has learned along the way.

I’ll start with what he was given.

He is a Black New Yorker. This is important.

Why is it important?

First it is important because he claims New York. Claims it hard. Some people were born and raised in a place, and he was indeed born and raised in New York, but it is another thing to stay. And to claim it. And to rep it. Reg is a New Yorker. You don’t have to ask, he will tell you, It’s in the name. We could possibly argue about the relevance of race, I’m comfortable with that discussion, but social constructs aside, being Black in America teaches a person some things, including what it is like to bear extra scrutiny or judgement on one’s appearance. This is a simple experiential fact and what Reginald will tell you is, that he had some very good teachers in how to navigate this world. He was brought up by Black professionals who knew the importance of presenting one’s self with an awareness of how others will see you. His grandmother was a seamstress. She worked around bankers and lawyers, that kind of New York and it was in large part up to her to make them look good. She passed along what she learned to Reg. Grandpa was a church man who did the same. These are the people who taught him to shop, about fit, coordination, about fashion. And he learned.

Reg had sage teachers at home, that is important, but he also came of age as part of Hip-Hop’s first generation, in the birthplace of fly- the Bronx.

The Bronx! This is the place that gave the world Slick Rick, Kool Herc, and Melle Mel. Those people gave us Fat Joe and Swizz Beats… and Reg.

So what we have here, is a kid who was taught the basic rules of classic menswear since birth coming of age in the hey-day and heartland of hip-hop. He is the balanced hybrid of… no I’ll stop myself right there. He is only balanced because he is a touch extreme in two directions. He is a staunch advocate of his two week rotation of suits, because good quality clothes last longer with a little resting time between wearings, but 14 suits is a few more than a modest arsenal. Then he also has an Imelda Marcos sized appreciation for sneakers. Being a sneakerhead isn’t all that unique these days, but maybe it is a bit much for someone who calms to be suited and booted at least 5 days a week and he does not forward the Jimmy Fallonesque ‘suits with tennis shoes’ look. He is no philistine. In the end Reg is balanced in the same way a 49-51  split senate is bipartisan, but unlike the partisans he somehow sits at both poles. So no matter where you sit on the spectrum, he’s more out there than you, or less out there, in both directions. More street. More boardroom. He is more of all those things and he works hard with those who don’t know, to know more, and do better.

When Editing a Closet Feels Like Failure

My hoarding clothing stems from two things:

One, the understanding that dressing appropriately is all about context. Where will you be and what will you be doing? This should determine the item, the color, the cut, the fabric, etc.

And two, the fantasy that my life is somehow much more interesting than it really is, or at least the fantasy, that it will be so at some point in the future. I need to be prepared right?

I still own a pair of rugby cleats though it has been ten years since I last played.

I own two pairs of snow pants though it has been 15 years since I last went snowboarding.

In fairness to the ten suits or odd jackets I own, such was daily wear for me pre-pandemic, though I must admit it has been multiple years since I half of them fit comfortably. I am convinced they will al fit again.

I realized the other day that while I have shoes in which to jog, I do not have the right shoes to play basketball. This is appropriate since I haven’t even touched a basketball in maybe five, wait, seven, years, but now that I see the clothing gap I am convinced the shoes are why I’m not playing 3-on-3 right this instant.

I saw an image yesterday of a small stadium where cars race around in a tight circle with a track banked at almost 90 degrees. It was wild. Spectators watch from seats right along the top of the track so they can look down and see cars zip by sticking to the wall as if with a high octane Spiderman superpower. While looking at this awesomeness what stuck out to me most was that one car had an obviously insane man sitting mostly outside the window of this moving car, and I cringed. Not because of the danger but because he was wearing this ill-fitting, multi-color striped, long sleeve golf shirt. It looked like a secondhand cast-off from Old Navy; like the wearer just grabbed something out of a pile with no thought as to size or taste. It robbed a little bit from the spectacle. Evel Knievel understood this. While I may not share his same taste for star spangled Elvis jumpsuits, Mr. Knievel understood how to dress in context. As to the driver in this motodrome, I am convinced that a leather motor cycle jacket, or a shirt in colors that matched the car, or maybe even no shirt at all would have made this whole scene so much more spectacular but instead of thinking this guy was just as cool as his stunt, I was pondering if perhaps this guy was only driving on a wall because he had no other options- because I had to assume he had no other shirts.

I love the idea of owning a tuxedo. I get that wearing a tux tailored to fit, will make me look and feel better, and in any setting where a tux is called for, one would of course want to look and feel their best. I have read and learned enough to know the little details that matter, texture, tailoring, lapel style and jacket length. I need to do more testing to really decide the size of bowtie that works best with my face, but I do know how to tie one, and know that I should.

But then also, I have already lived most of my life, and in all this time have only experienced four occasions where my wearing a tuxedo was appropriate.

So. Should I do a better job honestly curating my closet, or do I find some way to get a yacht to go with my boat shoes?

Commonwealth Proper Spring Line Launch

Commonwealth Proper 2019 Spring Line

Manly Men are and Have Been Dandies

… and for the record I own none of these images nor have I had a hand in their creation. They are just here to illustrate a point.

Dandy is not normally meant as a compliment when directed toward a man. It is considered calling the masculinity of the accused into question. I find this curious.

Maybe the man’s clothing show a little too much flair, a bit too fancy, overly decorated, maybe even froofy in the opinion of manliness police. Calling someone a dandy is often the same as, or at least overlapping with, soft, feminine… gay. Interesting.

Now in most cases, someone who would call another man a dandy- or metrosexual, or flamboyant, or prissy- in a derogatory way would also think gay to be bad. I have no intention of dealing with anyone’s opinion of homosexuality here, but I would like to address this curious connection with hetero normative masculinity and fancy clothes.

Clothing does not in fact make the man, or even make someone a man. I say this not to deny that humans signal or communicate when clothing themselves (very much the opposite), but rather to challenge what many think the messaging of frilly clothing means relating to hetero-normative masculinity.

There is a stream of popular American culture that for some reason thinks decorated clothes, or colors such as pink, communicate femininity or weakness. This makes me chuckle. It makes me laugh not because anyone has accused me of dressing less manly (I don’t personally like flamboyant clothes or excessively decorated outfits), but rather because it is historically silly.

This tends to be normal for anyone mocking someone else for not fitting some imagined standard. Most mockers are ignoring their own shortcomings, however they measure that standard.

Warriors throughout the ages and across many cultures, have exerted hetero masculinity, strength, and aggressiveness… as well as an abundance of feathers, ribbons, and makeup.We kid ourselves that armor and military regalia is utilitarian. Plumes on helms deflect sword blows. A forged metal face plate is only for protection, or maybe a touch of intimidation. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

Guys wear that stuff because they think it looks cool.

Which is great because in most, or at least many, cases it does look cool… but also super fancy. Super decorated, just for looks, non utilitarian, fancy. I’m okay with this. I understand that such clothing tells me little, or likely nothing, about anyone’s orientation, strength, virility… but it does tell me quite a bit about their taste.

And I don’t need to have the same tastes as you. That is okay.

I don’t have to be like you, or like you, but if I don’t (like you) my complaints should not be tied to your clothes.

The Party is Over

Holidaying is a much better word than partying, or in my opinion funner to say than “on holiday”. Unfortunately, or maybe it is for the best, funner is not really a word and most all of America is back at work starting off a new year with hopes, aspirations, and most likely a healthy dose of ‘meh’.

It starts with Halloween for the kids, then on to Thanksgiving for families and football, then December with its religious high holidays, then sliding down New Year’s. After that we are tasked with enduring February.Where is the fun now? Why did it die and who killed it?

Maybe fun is overrated and plain navy suits with white shirts and solid color ties are best. Maybe paying the bills, getting things done, and societal and personal progression are superior to immediate gratification and enjoyment.

But then again maybe all of those things aren’t mutually exclusive. Maybe you can personally progress and wear glossy purple suits at the same time.

Maybe… So navy suits aren’t always the best option, glossy purple suits are almost never a good option, but it doesn’t have to be one or the other.

Leaving Nature for my Natural Habitat

The winter break is over and the kids, those of my own and those at the University, are back in class. That means I am as well

Of course back in class does not mean classy. What it does mean is that if we hope to operate at a university level we could discuss and dissect what exactly “classy” means.

Is it visible? Is it observable? Who decides what constitutes class? What are the ties between what is considered “classy” (behavior, clothing, topics, etc.) and socio-economic class?

Is there value in being classy? Is this value only in how those with high social class perceive the one in question?

I might suggest that most of us who ask such questions would not likely feel good about the answers.

A Wish List: tis the season and all that

I am impossible to shop for. Not because I have everything, quite the opposite really, but moreso because I generally know exactly what I want. In the following posts I will be highlighting things I think are worth wanting. Some big, some small.

Some of the things I already have, some I will never have, and others I may eventually obtain but whichever or whatever, the list is to follow.

Examples:

Membership to the Salumi Society with Boccalone.com

Size 35, 301 Navy boardshorts from Birdwell Beach Britches.

Cotopaxi tent, black canteen, Tikal shell in gray, Nepal pack, and a Cusco bag in “Alpaca”.

A Navy 2 button suit with side vents from Commonwealth Proper. Hook me up Craig.

An authentic, should probably be in a museum sort of thing, samurai helmet.

DIY wood surfboard kit.

The list goes on and on. I wish (for numerous reasons) I didn’t have such a list… but I do.

Stay tuned

I’m Impossible to Shop For:unbridled materialism

I want a suit from Saville Row. I’m sure there are others elsewhere who could make one just as well, but it is a little bit more than just the suit; it’s the place. If I can only get one, two would be best, it would be navy. Two button, natural shoulder, notched lapels, and double vents. Flat front trousers with only a very slight break. I have never been to Saville Row, or even England, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting.

I have never had a nice watch. I don’t like big giant wrist robots with gadgets or jewels, but I would one day like a timepiece that is universal enough to wear with anything and durable enough for a Navy SEAL. I know they exist, I don’t really need one, but I would like to own one early enough in life for me to put some dings and scratches on it.

There is a town in Ethiopia call Aksum. In that town is a small chapel called the Chapel of the Tablet. No one is allowed inside but tradition holds that this is where the Ark of the Covenants is kept. They say it was carried there either by, or for, the Queen of Sheba who was said to have returned from a royal visit pregnant with an heir to the Holy throne. I want to go there.

I want a classic late 60’s Ford Bronco. A company called ICON will build one from the ground up with a brand new engine, water proof upholstery, and all the modern bells and whistles. I would rather have this than a Ferrari.

The black hooved pig raised in Spain and Portugal is fed almost exclusively on acorns or olives. Once harvested these pigs become the most heavenly melt in your mouth pig possible. It is called Jamon iberico and was not available in the U.S. till 2007. Yes please. On a jamonera.

I want a brown leather Brooks saddle with a fixed gear Chappelli bike to mount it on.

I want a living room set of furniture designed by Kaleo Kala; all hard wood, oiled not stained. Modern design executed with traditional craftsmanship.

I would love to one day stand in front of Michelangelo’s Pieta, the greatest sculpture ever hewn by man, but to hang on my wall, I want a Justin Bua.

I expect to get none of these things and somehow I will still be happy.

Monkey Suit: because its summer

My niece is getting married this summer. I’ve never met the guy. She’s a smart girl so I’m sure he’s great but I’m not so sure about all of this. I am however sure that he has nothing to do with the point of this post so right at the beginning, I’ve already digressed. Typical.

The point is that the reception is outside. Summer wedding outside; what to wear?

My family is not a formal bunch by anyone’s measure. We may be a little better put together than those with whom we associated coming up, but that bar can’t get any lower. So really, the only one who will care at all what I wear- is me. But I do care. I think we have gone over this before. I may be digressing again.

It must be a suit. I know it’s summer and outside, but it’s a wedding for heaven’s sake. And yes, wear the jacket. The fact that I even felt I had to justify that statement shows just how low that bar is set.

My closet is always just a tad deficient, and I may not be in a position to fix that right now, but in the spirit of weddings and love, allow me to dream just a little.

I said a “little” so I’m not going to go all bespoke here, but there is still room for reaching without reaching all the way to the stars. I’d be happy to reach for the laptop and order a suit from Bonobos.

Yup, the pants guys make suits.

I don’t just want a suit. I want a cotton/linen blend, lightweight, light colored, summer suit.

I also want a light colored, slightly playful, but not too much, pocket square to add a little flair. Bonobos makes those too.

I actually made some myself out of a pair of Bonobos pants I owned that met an untimely demise due to rambunctious behavior and a can of paint.

I suggest you order them as pocket squares rather than pants. Cheaper that way. Less work too.

The rational side of me knows that as a Californian, such a suit could be worn year round. That adds value right?

Just remember, especially when wearing light colored suits; your tie should always be darker than your shirt, and it’s probably best to stick to light colored shirts the pocket square should not exactly match your tie. It can match your shirt, but not your tie.

Come to think of it… 50 bucks says half of the guys won’t be wearing suits but will wear ties. So I think I’ll wear a suit but not a tie. Unless I wear it in my pocket as a pocket square.

New rule: your pocket square can match your tie if it is in fact, your tie.

Hunting Season and Menswear as Punishment

Mom could always sew and her skill kept clothes on our back. Dad could hunt and his skill kept food on the table.

Them in 80’s. Not the 1880’s… the 1980’s.

She was making him a nice navy jacket. We called such clothing church clothes and Dad would look quite respectable in this piece. As she sat at the machine threading needles he went off to the woods with some friends.

As the tale gets retold, and knowing what I know of my father, I’m sure the hunting party’s staying out through Sunday was a surprise to dad. Perhaps a truck got stuck in the mud on Saturday forcing them to stay the night.

Mother suffered his lingering over the Sabbath in silence and finished father’s gift.

When the jacket was presented to Dad he found that the lining of the coat was hunter’s orange. It would be rude of him not to wear it and when on, no one could see the blinding insides. But when sitting in the pews, if Dad felt the desire to put his arm around his wife, the Bishop behind the pulpit would get a fluorescent flash from Dad’s jacket reminding everyone of my father’s transgression.

Happy hunting everyone.

Them playing dress up.