And with good reason! This jacket is incredible.

As many have pointed out, it’s a 1980s Polo Ralph Lauren jacket (of course it is). Gosling’s stylist, Mark Avery, confirmed it was bought at a flea market on Long Island a couple of years ago.

I’m not really interested in who was wearing it, or what he was announcing while he was wearing it.

I’m interested in why we all look at it and go, “Hell yeah.”

The shape of the jacket and contrasting collar are familiar, while the color and details are striking. It feels like it belongs on a ranch, behind the wheel of a semi, or on the runway at fashion week.

It embodies what Ralph has always been good at — subtle tension and well-considered references. It has a natural ruggedness that gives way to a rockstar strut. And it’s these sorts of contradictions living in tension with one another that often make the most enticing pieces of clothing.

Simply put: the jacket just has an “it” quality.

It also feels very at home in Fall/Winter 2026.

The enjoyment of and enthusiasm for vintage clothing has never been more mainstream. It makes sense, then, that a rare vintage jacket on a celebrity would gain notoriety in the fashion community.

Bright primary colors have also started creeping back in the last few years, especially as an intentional twist on otherwise straightforward style — whether in home decor or fashion.

When I saw the jacket getting so much praise, I decided to do some digging to see what I could find.

The concise conclusion is: not much!

There was maybe one other red denim jacket with corduroy collar on any resale site I could find (more on that below).

But, as I kept digging, I found some really fun alternatives to Gosling’s Polo Ralph Lauren jacket. So I’m sharing my favorite finds here.

Fundamentally, this is a list of red jackets — statement pieces, for most guys. But beyond that, it’s a list of jackets with that same blend of surprising yet familiar details.

On the most basic level though, this is just a list of jackets I find really cool — including one that’s nearly identical to Gosling’s.

Denim Jacket - $67
No corduroy collar, but the cut gives you a classic boxy, short look that matches the aesthetic of Gosling’s number.

Canvas Work Jacket - $80
The tension in this jacket is in the absence of a corduroy collar we’re all used to seeing on a work jacket. Once again, the cut is boxy and shorter, which is just how you want a jacket like this to fit.

French Chore Jacket - $48
French workwear has its own distinctive look. The cinched, stretch waist and flap front pockets are great details on a very simple but excellent jacket.

Corduroy Polo Ralph Lauren Jacket - $99
The cut of this reminds me of old Lee Rider jackets, and the cord texture makes it really stand out.

Polo Ralph Lauren Down Jacket - $140
The insulated cousin to Gosling’s jacket. An excellent cold weather option.

Keep reading for 30+ more vintage red jackets, including bombers, Harringtons, workwear, sailing jackets, and the closest thing I could find to Gosling’s Polo number.

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Superfluous pockets. Excessive layers. Offbeat headwear. Faded flannel. Chunky knit. Utilitarian vest. Recreational tobacco use.

This photo of Yukihiro Takahashi is menswear hedonist nirvana.

Something about the cocktail of blatant nonchalance and blunt practicality of this outfit scratches an itch in our brains. This look is neither contrived nor copied. It’s simply very cool and very useful.

And that combination is increasingly rare.

I just finished a fantasy football draft over the weekend (don’t worry, I won’t bore you with my roster), and one subject that always comes up is the idea of sleepers.

Last year, Luther Burden was one for me — a pre-playoff waiver pickup who had big moments down the stretch and helped me win my league. This year, he’s moved past the point of being a sleeper and is solidly on the radar of fantasy football managers.

Similar to Burden, barn coats have had a resurgence that’s landed them in every mall and vintage curator in America. They’ve likely been one of the top trending products in the menswear space over the past year or two, while chore coats never really left the scene, and hunting jackets remain on the fringes as a more rugged and niche alternative (usually done rightly by Ralph Lauren once or twice per year).

Somehow, the fishing / wading jacket remains a solid sleeper, despite its popularity among menswear and heritage enthusiasts. They have a few subtle but significant nuances that diverge from their more workwear-focused brethren — shorter lengths, more pockets, and the odd loop or latch associated with outdoor gear.

Something about the sheer heft of its utility makes it less appealing to a guy just looking for a jacket — and fair enough, because who actually needs that many pockets for a WFH job in IT?

Still, if I can play fantasy football and pretend to manage a football team — so much that it takes up hours of my attention span each fall Sunday — then why can’t I play fantasy fly fishing and wear a jacket with hella pockets?

There’s nothing holding us back! Draft the jacket two rounds above ADP!

There are probably 4-5 vintage searches I return to on a weekly basis — just to see what new listings have popped up. One of those is fishing / wading jackets.

I’ve had some good fortune over the years, so I wanted to round up some recent listings I’ve stumbled upon — from niche 80s outdoor brands to Barbour knockoffs, and, of course Polo Ralph Lauren.

I’m also trying something new around here: vintage curation like the pieces below will now be part of the paid subscription tier. This tier will essentially have access to my own personal deep dives, watchlists, saved searches, and, occasionally, stuff straight from my own collection.

Free subscribers will still have access to all other written content and interviews. I’m still sorting out what “founders” tier subs will get.

For now, it’s just for readers who really enjoy the content and want to support my work!

Alright, let’s go fishing.

Hodgman Lakestream Fishing Jacket in Green - $57
All the bells and whistles (and pockets) you could hope for in a great shade of green. Hodgman Lakestream is a very solid budget option in this category.

Unlabeled Fishing Jacket in Black - $115
Convertible sleeves make this one fun and more practical. It’s also rare to find these in black, in my experience.

American Outerwear Co Jacket in Red - $23
The color and price make this one particularly appealing. If you would rather the color do the talking than the amount of pockets, this is a good option. It’s also very similar to a vintage Eddie Bauer I found last year (pictured below).

Another Hodgman - $23
Hard to beat this value.

House of Hardy Waxed Jacket - $203 + bidding
Holy smokes this one’s good. An alternative to the iconic Barbour Spey. Put a bid on this so I don’t have to.

Gant Convertible Jacket in Beige - $33
A pretty safe and conservative option from a well-known brand at a great price.

Barbour Spey - $408
Unfortunately, any vintage Spey cheaper than this gets snapped up immediately.

Hodgman Lakestream in Red - $45
This color of faded red just doesn’t get made anymore. So good.

LL Bean Jacket in Beige - $199
I like to include shorter hunting jackets, because they offer a similar feel and look. I also love the game pocket in the front of this one.

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About seven years ago, a buddy of mine put me on to raw selvedge denim and fully sold me on getting my first pair (pictured below).

I went with a black pair, and I ordered them a size down in the waist to account for stretch that never came. I wore them on repeat without washing for several months just like the experts advised.

Then, I washed them once (incorrectly). The crotch promptly blew out and they shrunk beyond wearability. In less than six months, I had ruined the most expensive clothing purchase of my life to that point.

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This has long been a rite of passage for all future ball-knowers, because experiential knowledge comes with friction. We make mistakes, develop preferences, have conversations with friends and shopkeepers, deep dive the nuances of loomstate denim… and, eventually, the conversations, nerdy explorations, and expensive mistakes result in some semblance of taste.

Now, anyone can consume most of that experience before their second cup of single-origin pour-over.

Someone can copy a look piece by piece from an online presence and project the identity they feel aligned with without belonging to any IRL community or spending years learning its dress codes through trial and error.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing either. It’s just the nature of personal style in the age of the algorithm. The instincts that once took years of mistakes and obsessive digging to acquire can now be inherited secondhand, distilled into a line of code served to you in the form of a 38-second video because you liked a heritage bro’s fit check earlier in the day.

And brands have access to the same source material: videos extolling Japanese craftsmanship, vintage listings, moodboards, and Reddit threads. They can add selvedge denim to a collection, package it as “heritage,” and reasonably expect the redline to register as good jeans.

As those broader ideas become more well-known, makers have to find more specific references to make familiar clothes feel fresh again.

In football, the rise of increasingly granular data has led to a similar information boom. Coaches know opponents’ tendencies by personnel, formation, down, distance, field position, and practically any other variable you can attach to a play.

Much like in fashion, access to all that information gives teams more ways to compensate for their deficiencies.

Defenses have gotten faster, lighter, and more versatile. They can show one coverage before the snap and rotate into another afterward, use multiple fronts without changing personnel, and generally make it harder for a quarterback to know exactly what he’s looking at.

When every organization has this much data, it’s less about who has access to analytics and more about who can manipulate them.

One of the ways offensive coaches are doing that right now is with heavy personnel. After two decades of offenses spreading defenses thin, offensive coaches have started bringing out the beef again: multiple tight ends, extra offensive linemen, and even fullbacks.

(Man, I miss Mike Alstott.)

It’s a smart zag against the long-developing philosophy of the NFL. If defenses have spent years finding players versatile enough to survive in the space teams were chasing, stop chasing space.

Put three tight ends on the field and suddenly the offense is dictating terms again. The defense has to decide if it can maintain its disguise and versatility while still stopping the run. It may be forced to commit before the snap or realize it needs to sub new personnel altogether.

Coaches are reaching backward for old personnel groupings and deploying them in combinations that create an advantage against a thoroughly modern defense.

Clothing makers are reaching backward for hyper-specific, old-school references, too.

Those references often become most interesting when they’re divorced from their original context.

Double knees are probably the clearest and most recent mainstream example. A detail designed to reinforce work pants has become so ubiquitous that you can now find it in every specialty shop or mall brand on pants that have almost nothing else to do with workwear.

*Poszeska’s decidedly buttoned-up take on double knees.

*Gap’s relaxed example of double knees.

Yes, these are just trendy pants, but the reference adds another layer (well, literally): a utilitarian detail pulled from the living archives of American workwear.

Some brands are shrewd enough to borrow these details with a specific point of view, while others are aiming to appease a trend. Either way, they’re counting on the fact that more of us recognize where it came from.

And increasingly, brands are digging even deeper.

For the last year or so, I’ve been seeing a new (old) detail popping back up: the buckle back.

The buckle back — or cinch back — predates the widespread use of belts on work pants and jeans, giving the wearer a way to adjust the waist from the back. It’s a particularly recognizable detail on early 20th-century workwear and denim.

For a long time, that’s largely where the detail stayed: a charming little idiosyncrasy you notice on a super old pair of jeans. You’d see a true reproduction from brands like Levi’s, Lee, or more specialized denim makers.

But it’s almost perfectly suited to the moment: an “if you know, you know” detail that doesn’t require massive stylistic commitments. The long-time enthusiast appreciates it alongside the burgeoning ball-knower. And suddenly, it’s everywhere.

Here are a few modern interpretations I’ve seen, from mall brands like Madewell to high-end makers like Bryceland’s:

1. Pinup Rags released this really fun pair of fatigues a couple of weeks ago.

2. Bryceland’s just celebrated 10 years of excellence with an outrageously good pair of jeans. (I cannot afford them, but they’re awesome.)

3. Noah produced these excellent chinos recently. They’re a brand that’s been back on my radar with fun pieces in every collection — this button tab rugby, for example.
   
   (The chinos are also available in denim.)

4. Madewell showcased their take on the buckle-back jeans, and they’re on sale right now.

5. Buck Mason is coming out with their own cinch-back reference for fall, and it appears to be very cool.

They also released a pair last year in collaboration with Anatomica, which are excellent.

When it comes to vintage buckle-back examples, there are a lot of options — even if you’re looking for the original 1930s examples.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I’ve found a lot of fun variety when searching for vintage Polo options: Corduroy double knees, fatigue/patch-pocket corduroys, chinos, workwear-style jeans, etc.

Polo Sport specifically used to mix in a lot of references like these!

I’ve sort of accidentally amassed the above collection over the last couple of years. I wasn’t consciously chasing buckle-backs — I’ve just found myself being drawn to pieces with slightly unusual, old-school details. Only recently did I realize how often the same ideas keep showing up in the “new arrivals” section.

Here are a few examples I found on eBay:

1. Linen patch pocket trousers with a buckle-back.

2. Navy workwear style pants with buckle-back.

3. Faded navy canvas chinos with buckle-back.

4. Polo Sport workwear jeans.

5. Seersucker pants with buckle-back.

6. Corduroy pants with patch pocket and buckle-back.

7. Polo Jeans buckle-back jeans.

   ---

I’ve said it before, but sometimes the best part of finding a new detail is following the echo backward to see where it came from. You can appreciate the modern references and potentially find more interesting and affordable vintage options along the way.

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Even as a content creator with a small following, the common ground of hitting “post” on a mutual interest has been a bridge I never intended to build, connecting me with friends I never expected to make.

The connection points have ranged from “nice pants” to discussing the struggle of adjusting to fatherhood while staying in tune with your wife. Depression, anxiety, vulnerability, and loafer recs have all come up, whether via DM or IRL.

I’ve had the chance to interview makers around the country and world for this Substack, and even found myself in a fantasy football league with a group of insanely knowledgeable and talented content creators last year — just because I kept putting content out into the world and engaging with others who do the same.

It’s a strangely dystopian thing — making friends online — but it’s been an on-ramp to one of the most supportive groups of people I’ve ever interacted with (if you stay off Reddit, that is).

One of the people I’ve had the privilege of getting to know through this community is David Elliott (@david.james.elliott on IG). His desire to be a resource is clear in his content — as is his devotion to family and discipline with his habits.

I admire David’s willingness to share his own struggles with adjusting to fatherhood, creating content in a phase of life where his identity is evolving, and nurturing his marriage in the process.

He and his wife had their son about two months before we had our second, which prompted us both to check in with each other more regularly. If one of us crawled out of the baby bunker to post something on our Stories, the other often responded, which usually led to some version of, “you guys getting any sleep?”

Having a kid is a strangely isolating experience — nearly everyone has been through it, so they all know what it’s like. Yet, where you’d expect gracious empathy for a strenuous season, you often receive a cold “welcome to the club,” or well-intentioned-but-not-so-helpful story about how hard it is for everyone.

(To be clear, it’s extremely difficult for those who deal with health complications and the like, which I’d never attempt to compare to.)

But it is a challenge, and sometimes you just want anyone who’s been there to tell you it’s okay to say that part out loud without fear of it being met with, “you just wait ‘til…”

Whether it’s because we all forget how hard it is, or because we’re too busy to stop and think about others, that no-strings-attached encouragement never arrives when we need it most.

David and I commiserated on this struggle — the beautiful contradiction of receiving a gift that zaps you of energy, clarity, and time while giving your life more vitality than anything else before it. It’s a wondrous and jarring shock to the system that makes you feel equal parts insane and joyful.

As a result of some of those conversations, we thought it might be helpful to dive into personal style as it relates to becoming a father. The identity shift, the time constraints that come with it, or even the waning desire to invest energy into what we wear.

As guys who post about style — and for David, it’s his full-time job — it puts you in a strange headspace and forces you to have a firmer grasp on what you care about when you get dressed, what you want your clothes to do for you, and how you choose to reflect that around others.

He was kind enough to answer a few questions about those topics.

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Nathan:

Describe your personal style since becoming a dad. Have you noticed a shift —practically or philosophically — in how you approach it now versus before? 

David:

Honestly, personal style has been a journey for me since becoming a father.

We live in the Northwest US — and in not the most fashionable town! We love the low cost of living and family dynamic, and [we] have taken advantage of that to travel a lot through the first 7 years of our marriage.

I think I underestimated how much getting excited about style was built around going to New York City, beach outfits in Mexico, etc.

Since becoming a dad, a lot of those things just aren’t as practical as they were before. But, it’s a part of my identity and, now it’s also my job.

I feel like it has been a process of figuring out what pieces still make me feel like me, feel great, feel confident — and also are comfortable enough to move and groove with our little man (who is becoming more mobile by the day)!

I wrote recently about how external validation can set the cost of dressing a certain way. David’s sentiment mirrors that concept — our choice of activity and context can inform so much of how we dress.

We lived in NYC when we had our first kid. Suddenly, concerts, dive bars, and late nights at our friends’ apartment were less feasible (and, in some ways, less appealing). When we moved back to the burbs, there was definitely a moment of, “Are we not cool anymore?” I imagine every parent is confronted with a version of that question at some point.

Like David, what I choose to wear has leaned more toward practicality and comfort. I still care, and I still have ideas, and I likely still take more stylistic risks than most dads. But I’ve found a lane that feels true to who I am today (and differs slightly from what I wore four or five years ago).

Nathan:

How do you maintain a connection to personal style when life shifts toward practicality — fatherhood, comfort, suburban routines, environments where style isn’t really reflected back at you or externally validated? How do you resist the temptation to completely disengage from it?

David:

To be completely honest, I struggle with this a lot!

I definitely think I shy away from being as adventurous as I may be if I was in a different environment. There are styles that I might be interested in trying, but I know I would get funny looks even at the most relatively fashion forward places in our town!

That has definitely been exaggerated since becoming a dad. I’m really trying to be intentional about putting effort in a few times per week to make sure I don’t lose the love that I have for it!

But, I also am looking for ways to be intentional even when I am at my most casual and comfortable. Even in a moment where I’m wearing sweats and a hoodie, I can choose something ratty and old that just feels sloppy, or I can make intentional choices to still present myself well even in my most casual moments! 

David said it: Intentional choices.

You could make a reasonable argument that all of personal style boils down to those two words.

It’s not about how much you have, how much you know, or how much you’ve spent.

Anyone whose style you admire is doing something on purpose — subtle, ostentatious, or otherwise.

Like David, I’ve found it’s less about forcing discomfort for the sake of dressing well and more about making intentional choices regardless of what you wear.

Nathan:

One thing you mentioned that really resonated with me was the feeling of “missing” your wife after kids — not in a dramatic way, but in the sense that your relationship naturally changes and those old rhythms become harder to access.

Parenting demands a lot, and figuring out how to continue building your relationship in the middle of it can be challenging.

As someone who seems very intentional about marriage and family, how have you navigated those feelings?

David:

I think communication has been the number one skill we have had to rely on the past 14+ months. I would say Karli and I started on a pretty good foundation of communication, and parenthood has still tested and stretched us in ways we couldn’t have imagined!

It is so easy for unspoken frustration, keeping score, and feeling like you’re getting the short end of the stick to creep in when you have a demanding baby. The more you can share your feelings in a calm and kind way, the better chance we have to avoid unhealthy conflict.

We are always trying to remind ourselves that we are on the same team and want the same things. It’s really hard! But talking things through ALWAYS makes us feel better and more on the same page than letting them fester under the surface. 

As far as missing my wife, it’s still something I feel like we struggle with to this day! We are low-key co-dependent — we love to do EVERYTHING together. Parenthood has required us to divide and conquer more, and I imagine that will only be amplified as we, Lord willing, add more children to our family in the future.

I don’t think there is a way around it other than to accept it, mourn it a bit, and make the most of every moment we do have together! If I am bummed about things not being how they used to be and I let that carry into a date night, it’s just making the problem even worse! 

Ultimately, we are just trying to appreciate everything about this season of life. The tough moments are tougher than anything I’ve experienced.

But the good moments are some of the greatest joy I’ve known in life. It is really special and I am so grateful to enjoy the full human experience of all of it! 

I’ve had this feeling about my own marriage since we had kids. To David’s point, there’s really no way around it.

I miss my best friend.

But there’s a sort of charm in the stress that raising kids puts on your marriage. It’s not meant to remain the same forever. (If we’re talking menswear, it’s meant to fade and distress like a good pair of jeans.)

Being a parent is a demanding calling and requires your attention in ways that pull you away from your partner and even your own sense of self. Sure, you can (and should) have date nights, but the dynamic changes — you’re both over-taxed, sleep-deprived, and sorting through your own identity crisis du jour.

But as your kids become more independent, and you claim parts of yourself back from them, you find your spouse again in new ways. You see them as a parent of your child. You see them rise to the occasion when you can’t. You see them filled with a new sort of love that lights them up in ways you’ve never seen.

You work together to figure out parenthood for several years. And then — if you’re lucky — one day you look up and see your friend sitting across from you again.

Every shirt I own holds an ambiguous mouth stain from one of my boys — tiny badges of honor. It’s a pain in the ass because I don’t catch them until I leave the house. But I know one day my clothes will be clean — and boring — and I’ll miss the markings that remind me what this season was about

In the meantime, the only personal style advice I can give you is simple: live intentionally.

That choice will move the needle in your marriage, with your kids, and, eventually, your personal style.

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Something about the pre-fall, pre-lookbook, pre-new-release season convinces me the only thing I’m missing for autumn is an all-time American classic.

It tracks, because if new ideas aren’t flooding our minds with inspiration or encouraging impulse buys, something eternal fills the void: jeans. Or more appropriately, the optimism that this is the fall when I’ll finally find the right pair — the same belief that keeps me searching year after year.

This is also the only time of year when every college football fan holds fast to one ethereal notion: hope.

It’s the season of preseason polls, prognostications, and player rankings. No games have been played, and we’re all living off of the scraps of training camp news.

According to a source, “He was ripping dimes in practice today.”

That third-party, empty-calorie observation fills the void left by meaningful touchdowns in front of roaring crowds on Saturdays.

I’m here for all of it.

In a sport so sprawling and unsteady, the preseason previews provide the perfect snapshot to orient myself for the season ahead. (Then I’ll spend the rest of my time snapping up every breadcrumb from local Ole Miss beat writers until they spot the ball in September.)

One of the best pre-fall traditions in college football is the preseason All-America team. It’s a full football roster recognizing the best and most impactful players for the season ahead — or at least, it sets that expectation for the athletes receiving these honors.

In the spirit of autumnal optimism, I’ve put together my own All-America team… but for American-made vintage.

As in football, this list is subjective and meant to capture a moment in time. For something rooted in the past, the vintage landscape — much like CFB — is always shifting. Listings disappear, prices rise, and our cultural tastes evolve.

But right now, these are the players I’d want on my team this fall, along with a few specific eBay finds that felt particularly strong for the cooler months ahead.

(Not into vintage? Scroll to the bottom for non-vintage, vintage-inspired options.)

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Quarterback: Levi’s

When one guy touches the ball on every play — so to speak — you need him to be able to make something out of nothing. And a good pair of jeans can do just that. For all of their recent misjudgments, Levi’s cut a mean pair of slacks back in the day.

The Made in USA Levi’s hold up particularly well and have a fit that virtually every clothing brand — from artisanal Japanese makers to mall stores — uses as the blueprint for their straight leg jeans. (FWIW, the 1980s 501s are my favorite cut.)

Linking some specific pairs below!

*Straight Leg — 501 and 505

Faded 501s; More Faded 501s; Another Pair of Faded 501s

Mid Wash 501s; More Mid Wash 501s;

Hi-Contrast Faded 501s; More High Contrast Faded 501s

Distressed 501s; More Distressed 501s

Faded 505s; Mid Wash 505s; Light Wash 505s

Loose Straight — 555 and 565 (565 is baggier)

Faded 555s

Faded 565s

Relaxed Taper — 550 and 560 (560 is a tighter taper)

Faded 550s; Light Wash 550s

Faded 560s

Bootcut — 517 and 557 (557 is the Levi’s equivalent of the Wrangler Cowboy Cut)

Heavily Faded 517s; Dark Wash 517s; Corduroy 517s

Faded 557s; Dark Wash 557s

Search Terms: Levi’s 501 Made in USA, Levi’s 505 Made in USA, Orange Tab Levi’s

*Notes: Make sure the seller lists the “true” measurements so you can account for the shrinkage that comes with vintage jeans. (For example, a pair labeled 34 x 32 can often shrink to 32 x 29.)

*Also: If you want the really faded 501s, add “0000” to your search. It includes the “shrink to fit” 501s that start out as raw denim and fade with wear.

Running Back: Russell Athletic

A productive back gets better with every carry, and the same goes for a pioneer of the modern sweatshirt. (Yet both somehow remain underappreciated.) They’re legitimately so iconic that they propped up an LA-based vintage dealer a few years ago who has since launched their own products — and they’re a favorite example referenced by several designers over the years.

It’s still hard to find a better fitting hoodie than vintage Russell, and there are plenty of colors available with varying fades and logos, depending on your style.

Hoodies:

Green; Red; Navy

Zip-Up:

Navy; Yellow; Red; Grey

Crewnecks:

Navy; Black; Red; Green; Green again

Search terms: Russell Athletic Made in USA, Russell sweatshirt, Russell hoodie

*And if you’re feeling crazy, Russell Athletic LL Bean.

Wide Receiver: Brooks Brothers

Reliable hands. A route technician that refuses to chase trends. Classic staples like oxford cloth button downs, knitwear, and sport coats have been converting 3rd and 7’s for decades. When it comes to that kind of safety blanket, it’s hard to beat vintage Brooks Brothers.

Oxford Cloth Button Downs:

Striped; Check; Blue

Knitwear:

Green Crewneck; Green V Neck; Blue Cardigan; Navy V Neck

Search terms: Brooks Brothers USA, Brooks Brothers All Cotton oxford, Brooks Brothers Sea Island Cotton

Defensive End: Woolrich

The edge rusher built for cold mornings and long winters. Vintage Woolrich overshirts, outerwear, and hunting jackets are as hardwearing as you’d expect, but still bring the texture and character that feel innately linked to fall fits.

Overshirts:

Navy; Gray; Plaid; Red

Flannels:

Plaid; Plaid again; Red Wool; Red Cotton; Navy

Jackets/Coats:

Red Plaid; Green Wool; Green Wool Lined; Blue Wool Lined; Tan Wool Lined

Search Terms: Woolrich Made in USA, Woolrich wool jacket, Woolrich chamois shirt, Woolrich Mackinaw

Linebacker: Big Mac

The defensive anchor with minimal flash, but a piece every great team needs. Big Mac’s work shirts, flannels, and outerwear offer some of the best value in American-made vintage.

Work Shirts:

Hickory Stripe; Blue Stripe; Dark Chambray; Selvedge Chambray; Plaid;

Flannels:

Brown/Blue Plaid; Brown/Red Plaid; Red/Blue Plaid; Red Plaid

Jackets:

Chore Jacket; Trucker Jacket

Search terms: Big Mac work shirt, Big Mac flannel, Big Mac JCPenney

Vintage-Inspired, but Not Vintage

Secondhand clothes are not for everyone — I get that! But there are some fairly accessible and familiar brands making really solid reproductions or vintage-inspired clothing. Here are some of my favorites:

Outerwear:

Denim Jacket; Chore Jacket;

Field Jacket; Walking Jacket

Tops:

Crewneck Sweatshirt; Quarter-zip Sweatshirt;

Crewneck Sweater; Ribbed Crewneck Sweater;

Long Sleeve Shirt; Graphic T-Shirt; Henley

Pants:

Black Chinos; Straight Leg Jeans; HBT Cargo Pants;

Relaxed Straight Leg Jeans; HBT Pants; Green Chinos

Pleated Chino; Tapered Chino; Loose Chino

Loose Jeans

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Exactly 17 months earlier, the Dallas Mavericks shocked the world by trading Luka Doncic — Brown’s counterpart in the 2024 Finals — for an aging, expensive, injury-prone former star… and, again, not much else.

Fans were furious, talking heads were confused, and many assumed reporters had been hacked when the news first broke. For some, conspiracy theories still feel more believable than the trades themselves.

Regardless of what history eventually says about these deals, they share one distinct commonality: a team who was willing to dump the hardest thing to find in professional sports — a player who raises their level of play when you need it the most.

As of last weekend, Philly now has two players who’ve proven they’re capable of doing just that after LeBron James signed with the Sixers in what he’s calling his “final decision.”

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It’s yet another unprecedented move in a long line of surprises over the course of LeBron’s never-ending, illustrious career.

He now has the chance to choose how he fits among a cast of players each at varying stages of their NBA stardom: a fading MVP praying for good health at the right time, a Finals MVP cast aside by his former team, an all-star reaching his peak, and a second-year phenom still finding his role.

As a result, they’ve vaulted near the top of the championship odds. Whether they actually belong there is another question entirely. Will everyone stay healthy? Will the roster fit together? Can a 41-year-old still bend a playoff series to his will?

Any given season, there are maybe a hundred players you’d like to have on your team, three dozen you’d be fine with starting, and probably only 12 who can impact winning at the highest level.

Depending on health, age, development, and roster fit, Philly could have four of those players on their roster come June — or none at all.

That’s what championship-level competition does to teams. Possessions matter more, leading to shorter rotations, and by Game 3 of the Finals, pieces of the rotation that looked invaluable in December are played off the floor. By Game 5, you’re lucky if you have more than a fistful of players you trust to close a game.

(This most recent Finals — where Jalen Brunson was effectively the only dependable player on either team in the closeout game — is a prime example.)

Where June has a knack for revealing the pieces NBA teams can’t live without, July does the same for our wardrobes.

Jackets head to the bench in June, while knits ride the pine on beach trips, and those pants that felt indispensable in October can’t find minutes in July. By the end of August, you’re left with very few pieces you trust regardless of the conditions.

This got me thinking about an idea that we as guys seem to instinctively love when it comes to buying clothes: versatility.

We love convincing ourselves that something can do a little bit of everything. It makes an otherwise superfluous purchase feel practical—and therefore, more justifiable.

But not all versatility is created equal.

I’m talking about the pieces that survive the harshest conditions in your part of the world. For me, that’s July and August in Georgia (and those September afternoons that still somehow touch 88 degrees).

The goal with this post is to encourage self-scouting — a little roster evaluation in lieu of a wishlist. It’s about your closet and what’s already in place to survive the highest pressure moments, not what I think you works best.

These are the five core ideas to keep coming back to when building a wardrobe for the days when almost everything else in the closet gets played off the floor.

The rotation that survives the heat.

Don’t aim for endless options, because that’s how closets get bloated. True optionality comes from a small rotation of pieces that can survive when the conditions are working against you. The three things that matter most are your climate, your routine, and your personal taste.

On the hottest day of summer, ask yourself:

*Which pair of non-gym shorts would I actually want to wear?

*Which button-up shirt could I wear on a date without spending the entire night thinking about how hot I am?

*Which pair of non-sneakers do I genuinely enjoy wearing?

We can all default to gym shorts, T-shirts, and sneakers when the temperature climbs, but having these three pieces locked into your rotation means every other situation becomes easier to navigate.

The glue guy.

There is always one player who sacrifices the most for the good of the team. This is the tone-setter who doesn’t care who gets the glory among an entire organization of mammoth egos. This is the glue guy.

Ask yourself: What goes with everything in your closet?

It’s different for all of us, and doesn’t even have to be a specific item. Maybe it’s a color, or a shade of a color, or a brand that makes the perfect fitting tees or button-ups.

(For me, it’s this vintage Polo light blue chambray shirt. It’s slightly oversized with a camp collar. It goes with literally every pair of pants and shorts I own, from jeans to gym shorts, and that’s not an exaggeration.)

Think about why you like the things you like and wear most, and that will lead you to your glue guy — then allow you to maximize its impact.

The no-brainer.

Every team has a handful of ATOs (after timeout plays) they run when they absolutely need a bucket. It’s your best stuff to get your best guy the best possible look.

It’s the no fuss, no second-guessing, and no sweat, because you trust it to come through when you need it.

I’ve found the no-brainer piece tends to be a shirt, and it tends to revolve around how it fits you. Unlike the glue guy, you usually let the no-brainer dictate the rest of the ‘fit when you just need something you can count on.

Do you have a shirt that just fits exactly how you like it? Whether it’s flattering or gives you the exact version of a Paul Newman inspo pic you saw once, having something that always delivers is peace of mind for your personal style.

The indispensable role player.

What in your wardrobe would you jump to replace if it suddenly disappeared from your life?

This doesn’t have to come down to basics, but it often does — a t-shirt, socks, gym shorts, or even a hat that actually fits your dome properly. Once you find those indispensable basics, so much of your wardrobe falls into place.

The first off the bench.

Any hoop head will tell you it doesn’t matter who starts the game, it matters who finishes it. This is why a good sixth man can swing games, series, and championships.

The sixth man of your closet isn’t always the first thing you think of, but it’s usually the thing you miss when you don’t have it with you.

That’s the role of a go-to summer travel item. It might not be your favorite thing in your closet, but it’s the thing that earns a place in your suitcase for every trip.

Maybe it’s a knit polo that doesn’t look right when you’re in the office, or a bucket hat that feels too “vacation-y,” or a pair of shoes that have become your beachcombers.

If you ever feel like you’re not using these pieces enough, just remember that they do serve a purpose (so don’t get rid of them). And while they may not start every summer in your rotation, they’re still productive when called upon.

Once you’ve done some proper self-scouting of your current wardrobe and identified the stuff that hangs with you in the toughest times, then you have a clear rotation for the stretch run of summer.

Beyond that, you can also enter “summer sale season” knowing exactly what stuff to resist buying just because it’s a good deal, and what holes on your roster need to be filled.

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Photo Credit:

LeBron/Jaylen - Fox News

Wemby/Harper - Philstar.com

Josh Hart - NBA.com

SGA - olympics.com

Mitchell Robinson - Heavy Sports

Naz Reid - Basketball Wiki

But when Aimé Leon Dore released a $2,500 “raffia” basketball hoop last year, I wasn't interested in debating whether it was worth it.

I just wanted to see if I could make one myself.

My first attempt taught me I couldn't make an exact replica. I'll give ALD credit here: they essentially white-labeled a genuinely well-crafted product from Odd One Out Designs, which is available for less than half the price without the Aimé branding.

But I felt like I could make something that evoked the same idea and feeling — unexpected materials on a familiar object — for a tiny fraction of the price.

Also, I just love basketball and pop-a-shot hoops, and I thought it’d look cool in my son’s room.

It was a good lesson when it comes to things we don’t understand: don’t get mad, get curious. Or in this case, get creative.

A mixture of life, procrastination, and trial and error made this project take longer than it should’ve. But in the end, I did it — and for less than $175.

If you want to make one yourself, I’m including the process and materials below!

And if you end up making one, let me know. Would love to see what you come up with.

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*One note: I happened to have the tools necessary for this job, but if you don’t have a saw, Home Depot will cut the wood for you in-store. You can also rent a brad nailer for pretty cheap.

What you need:

24” × 18” plywood backboard

Woven rattan/cane sheet

Wood trim (painted)

Thin wood strips for inner square (painted)

9” basketball rim — I used this one.

1/2” wood blocks (rear reinforcement & wall mounting)

3M Super 77 spray adhesive

Titebond Original wood glue

1” brad nails

Brad nailer (may be able to rent for cheap if you don’t have one)

Utility knife with fresh blades

Straightedge/ruler

Painter’s tape

Pencil

Spray bottle with water

Clean towel

Cardboard

Flat weights/books

Drill/driver

Hanging hardware (French cleat or D-rings)

Caulk if you’re an overachiever

Oh, and basketballs! We used these.

Measure twice, cut once:

Backboard: 24” W × 18” H

Inner square: approximately 9.5” W × 7.25” H

Breakaway Rim: 9” diameter

*Align the top of the rim base with the bottom of the inner square.

Trust the process:

First: Lay everything out.

1. Lay out the trim, inner square, and rim on the plywood.

2. Adjust spacing until it looks balanced.

3. Mark all locations with pencil.

4. Remove everything before continuing.

Second: Prep Rattan

1. Mist both sides of the sheet with a spray bottle.

2. Let relax for 5–10 minutes — you want it to feel flexible rather than wet.

Third: Cut Rattan

1. Leave about 1” excess around the edge of the plywood for a final cut later.

Fourth: Spray on Adhesive

1. Do this outside, or make sure your workspace is protected.

2. Spray a light coat of 3M Super 77 on the plywood, spraying about 6-8 inches away from the surface. Do the same for the back of the rattan.

3. Wait 60 seconds until both surfaces have a good tack to them.

Fifth: Attach Rattan

1. Start in the center, then smooth outward with your hands.

2. Press firmly using a flat board or similar object, and avoid stretching the weave.

   
   *This part is easier than it sounds.

Sixth: Weight Panel

1. Lay a piece of cardboard on top of the rattan.

2. Add books across the entire surface to weight down the cardboard.

3. Let it cure for at least 2–4 hours, or overnight if you have time to wait.

   
   *Important: store in a dry, cool place. Learned this lesson the hard way.

Seventh: Trim Rattan

1. Use a fresh utility blade or box cutter.

2. Trim the excess so that it’s flush with the plywood.

Eighth: Install Outer Trim

1. Apply Titebond wood glue.

2. Brad nail through the trim, through the rattan, and into the plywood.

3. Wipe away any glue squeeze-out immediately.

Ninth: Install Inner Square

1. Use 1” brad nails to pin the square panels to the backboard (over the rattan).

2. Use wood glue beforehand, if you want extra security. I didn’t, and it seemed fine.

   
   *Brad nails may come through the back of the plywood on this part. I clipped (using diagonal clipping plier) and caulked over mine.

Tenth: Mount Rim

1. Attach the rim using included hardware into the plywood — will need to drill holes for this.

2. Align the top of the rim with the bottom edge of the inner square.

Eleventh: Install Hanging Hardware

1. Mount rear 1/2” support blocks with brad nails. I used two at each corner and one at the bottom center for stability.

2. Attach your hanging hardware to the rear support blocks.

3. Make sure the backboard hangs level — use the tape trick for hanging before you drill holes.

Final Notes:

1. Rattan fully bonded with no bubbles

2. Trim sits flat with tight corners

3. Inner square centered

4. Rim level and centered

5. Top of rim base aligns with bottom of square

6. All glue cleaned up

7. Hanging hardware secured

8. Final inspection before mounting

9. Get some shots up before you show the kiddos

Arguments, shoving matches, and a massive Spanish sigh of relief briefly overshadowed the falling confetti and trophy presentation.

It was an appropriately chaotic epilogue to a match that simmered for 90 minutes before turning into the cocaine-fueled final act of Goodfellas.

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One thing missing from Sunday’s proceedings? The man who took home the tournament’s Golden Boot award, Kylian Mbappe.

For the unfamiliar, The Golden Boot goes to the player who scored the most goals across a given season or tournament. France’s star made history by becoming the first player ever to claim a second World Cup goal-scoring title by netting 10 goals to top Messi’s 8 — whether he was stat-padding in a wide open third place game is up for debate but irrelevant.

I love that soccer makes a point to celebrate its goal-scorers so much. Because whether or not you’re a fan, it’s hard to argue with the idea that futbol goals are the single most exciting unit of scoring in sports.

The build up, the tension, the release, the glory, and, quite often, the luck. It’s thrilling. It’s appropriate, then, to crown the player who delivers more of those moments than anyone else.

I also love the name: The Golden Boot. In America, outside of baseball, we often jump to name an award after an individual to immortalize their accomplishments. But there’s something wonderfully pragmatic about naming an award after the instrument that makes the moment possible.

Of course, it’s not the shoes that score the goals, it’s the player inside them. But the boot remains universal. Whether it’s Mbappe or a kid kicking a ball around in his backyard, every goal still comes off the toe of a boot.

It doesn’t carry the untouchable weight of something named “the golden jersey” or “golden captain’s armband” or “the golden jockstrap” — all terrible names, btw.

Instead, it’s simple: The Golden Boot rewards pure and unadulterated production. It’s not a narrative-based, subjective vote from pundits like an MVP award. It’s simply a number next to the name of a player who kept scoring.

This is the delightful directness of soccer. While a lot of intangible ingredients have to come together to mix the perfect cocktail of a championship side, the result is always determined by one question: can you put the ball in the back of the net?

As a long-recovered sneakerhead, that’s a refreshingly straightforward aim. There’s no hype, or aesthetic, or narrative — ideas that drove the kicks craze of the 2010s. There is only production.

And this got me thinking: if every wardrobe has a leading scorer, what takes home The Golden Boot?

The answer starts with the same idea that defines the award in soccer: production. What’s the piece that consistently finds a way to deliver?

An elite goal scorer is able to summon moments of brilliance regardless of the opponent, the circumstance, or the limitations of their teammates. That’s the role of a Golden Boot in your wardrobe.

A versatile white sneaker can work with almost anything, but The Golden Boot is the shoe that makes even your most specific expressions of personal taste possible.

So, to put it more simply: what pair of shoes unlocks your ideas?

It’s the sneaker that lets you experiment with normcore without looking boring. The boot that makes vintage Americana feel lived-in instead of like a costume. The loafer that makes a suit exude sprezzatura and feel less like you’re playing dress-up.

I wrote recently about how context determines the cost of dressing differently. Trying a specific look often carries a cost of its own — a barrier to entry that requires the confidence, effort, and execution to pull it off.

It’s the fine line of taste that differentiates personification from replication, and the right foundational pieces absorb the risk of an aesthetic choice. That’s the true value of The Golden Boot: making ambitious ideas feel attainable

For me, The Golden Boot has become brown suede loafers.

They discreetly occupy an odd middle ground within menswear’s cultural perception. They’re familiar enough to be approachable, but specific enough to create a distinct point of view. They resist muting the personality of a getup and encourage the rest of the fit to flourish. They have a ruggedness that strips away the formality traditionally associated with loafers.

That is all the makings of a productive shoe — one that fills the gaps and encourages the nuances of your perspective to shine through without stealing the show.

*@studied.carelessness wearing brown suede Belgians.

I’ve been half-heartedly hunting for a brown suede loafer over the past year or so, and Meermin was kind enough to send me a pair of their penny loafers in brown Superbuck.

While not technically suede, they achieve the look while actually being more scuff/stain-resistant. (As a dad with two toddlers, this is a massive priority for the program.)

Since they came in a few weeks ago, they’ve put up numbers alongside a variety of teammates in extreme conditions — southern heat, previously mentioned toddlers, etc.

That. Is. Production.

As fall approaches, and we enter the season of itchy trigger fingers, I’d encourage you not to look for the hype-y-est kicks or even the most versatile boots. Find the shoes that will best express your point of view.

Those are the shoes that turn ideas into chronically repeatable outfits.

That’s your Golden Boot.

With enough accomplishments to fill three Hall of Fame resumes and more money than any active athlete, LBJ is choosing “complete happiness” this time around. James’s vibes-based methodology is completely unique in a league increasingly defined by financial constraints. It doesn’t matter who has the cap space, where he lives, or which narrative fans and media prefer. It’s about fit above all else.

It’s an appropriate approach for a player who’s made a habit of winning with complex personalities around him. He’s a perfect example of what makes basketball so compelling:

In a sport dominated by giants and athletic freaks, context matters just as much as raw talent — it’s why elite bucket-getter Cam Thomas is still a free agent at age 24, why the Rockets traded top-ten pick Rudy Gay for defensive specialist Shane Battier in 2006, and why dozens of teams full of All-Stars have crumbled throughout NBA history.

Where so many stars struggle to fit together, LeBron has spent two decades proving he’s unusually good at making disparate pieces work, and he has the opportunity to do it again (at low overhead to boot).

As Isiah Thomas once said, “The secret of basketball is that it’s not about basketball.” And that’s because basketball isn’t just about evaluating talent; it’s about evaluating relationships.

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This idea of context — and how it shapes what feels possible — has been rattling around my head all week. If context matters so much in basketball, does it matter just as much when it comes to how we present ourselves?

More importantly, should it matter at all?

A seasoned menswear enthusiast will almost always advise you to “wear what you want.”

I understand the spirit of that advice, but should our clothes really exist detached from our surroundings? Should our taste evolve within our social circles, or parallel to them? Does individuality die if we go with the flow?

Put more succinctly: How much should context influence our relationship with our own taste?

Peter and Derek of the Die, Workwear! podcast recently poked fun at the idea of someone in the suburbs rocking head-to-toe Rick Owens.

Some felt the conversation came across as elitist — like only those in big cities can dress in interesting ways. Regardless of how you feel about the clip, they’re touching on an idea that’s extremely relevant to this conversation:

Our “context” has changed.

As the world moves more online, so do our hobbies. This means our taste — shaped through exploring our curiosity in those interests — doesn’t evolve in the same direction or at the same pace as our peers. It often develops through social media consumption and engagement with Reddit communities.

Where people used to thumb through records together, shop at the same stores, drink the same drinks for the first time, or watch the same movies together, now we’re experiencing versions of those things at different times and speeds — and more importantly, often doing them at home, alone.

But when you transpose that transformation from the cloud to the Cava line, there’s a high possibility of conflict with your context (especially in fashion).

Jabari Sandifer recently chimed in by positing that “fitting in while standing out” is his ideal way to approach style, highlighting the small styling decisions that allow you to dress within your context while still feeling unmistakably yourself.

I asked two of my friends about how their contexts influences how they dress.

Haran (@thingsbyharan on IG) moved to the suburbs of Atlanta about two years ago — within a month or so of my move from NYC.

I asked him how the move to an environment with less external validation around fashion changed his thought process:

It’s definitely shifted my perspective.

Denver and Boulder have a very unique menswear community, with a strong appreciation for outdoor/utility garments and vintage. There’s a real sense of shared enthusiasm that doesn’t quite exist in suburban Atlanta…

At work or out in public, I’m usually the most overdressed person in the room. This forced me to ask myself whether I’m dressing for other people, or because I genuinely enjoy it.

Surprisingly, I think it’s pushed me toward a more honest version of style. I still love tailoring, vintage, and interesting textures, but I’ve become less interested in dressing to make an impression and more interested in wearing clothes that simply feel like me. If anything, the lack of an audience has clarified what I actually enjoy wearing — having less external validation has made style feel more personal.

When no one around you really notices or cares, you find out pretty quickly whether you’re dressing for yourself or for everyone else.

Nick (@nickthrowsafit on IG) moved from Des Moines, Iowa to Charleston, South Carolina last year, and he shared an incredibly insightful perspective:

To me, the most important word in developing your personal style is permission. You can’t take a risk, build confidence, or refine your taste without first giving yourself permission to do so.

The interesting thing about Charleston is that, while it isn’t a fashion-forward city, it’s a city that people project a specific identity onto when they visit.

Women show up in Lilly Pulitzer style dresses, and men show up in whatever they think Southern old money is supposed to look like. These people are giving themselves permission to try something different and to dress for a version of themselves they don’t get to inhabit at home.

And what that creates, unexpectedly, is one of the lowest-pressure fashion environments I’ve ever lived in. There’s no dominant aesthetic to conform to, no social hierarchy to dress for. When the people around you are already doing something new, the friction to do something new yourself disappears.

He went on to add:

Not many people here dress like me. And I’ve never felt more free to dress exactly how I want. At this stage of my life, I feel more confident in the way I dress than I ever have, and I think a lot of that comes from this beautiful paradox.

Haran and Nick’s experiences highlight the simple truth about context: it doesn’t determine our taste, it determines what we feel allowed to do.

Your context might encourage experimentation or free you from the burden of performing. It can reward conformity, or it can make you feel self-conscious or even invisible.

Most importantly, your context changes the social cost of dressing differently.

Maybe that’s why this LeBron decision is so fascinating to me. Instead of focusing on the best possible team, he’s choosing the context that allows him to be the version of himself he wants to be at age 41.

Most of us don’t get the chance to choose our context so deliberately. We inherit a city or stumble into an unexpected career path. We slowly build friend groups based on proximity, and then our neighborhoods, schools, churches, gyms, and even coffee shops quietly inform what feels normal.

And, eventually, what feels possible.

That’s why I’ve never cared for the advice to “just wear what you want.”

It’s not that the idea is ill-conceived or even wrong, but because it assumes we’re making these decisions alone. (We’re not.)

Our relationship with our taste is constantly being negotiated by our environment, relationships, and *aspirations. Sometimes our context narrows our focus, while other times it expands our worldview. Then, every once in awhile, it lowers the social cost of finding out who we want to be.

And that’s what we’re all searching for: a context where becoming that person feels possible.

_{*Unfortunate Kawhi pun.}

From mall brands to the niche-est of niche one-man shops that only your fashionable friend has heard of, the cultural rise has risen, and the hem has widened — along with everything along the inseam in between.

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It’s a great shift that has let out the waist on the collective menswear worldview to a more comfortable and flattering range of silhouettes. There may be more polarizing points of view that push the billowy boundaries to broader levels of looseness, but it’s better that we’re here now — a place where all fits and rises serve a purpose.

^{*@Illustre_man_ in generously proportioned but well-fitting pants.}

This transformation is not just about baggy being “in.” There’s been a real adjustment in general understanding that a certain cut of pants can speak to a specific style choice and create a distinct silhouette across the entire spectrum of pants-dom.

^{*@Itfitsbam in one of my favorite cuts of pants.}

Relaxed-straight pants can feel decidedly workwear-ish, while bootcut or straight jeans lean vintage americana. Looser fits feel at home in Japanese eclectic style, streetwear, formal settings, and Ivy-inspired looks. Even slimmer looks still have their place at the table.

Yet, as more mass-market makers have taken notice of this hike-up-your-pants uptick, some questionable cuts have entered the fray and nearly replaced skinnies as the most objectionable fit of pants on the market:

^{*J Crew’s “High Rise, Straight Leg” jeans, presumably for people with no eyes and long pelvises.}

If most images are worth a thousand words, this one is worth six:

Who the hell asked for these?

The return of a slightly higher-rise on straight leg jeans is not an objectively undesirable thing. Until recently, jeans makers had ventured too far into low rise territory, which had the unexpected consequence of creating a wonky and unflattering shape — especially if you had any intention of tucking your shirt.

*That last note is one change that, in part, sparked the rise in rises: Fashion has trended away from UNTUCKit LLC and towards tried-and-true tucked tops (and cropped looks). Tucks overwhelming just don’t look as good with low-rise, skinny pants. (I don’t care to explain proportions or the rule of thirds or anything like that, because your body type and preferences should inform what you wear, not my attempt at flexing my ability to regurgitate menswear internet jargon I barely adhere to myself.)

The short and simple truth is this: Your pants just need to go up all the way above your ass. The entire fit looks better when they do, full stop. High-rise, mid-rise, it barely matters, because there’s no one-size-fits-all option or universally “perfectly fitting pants.” (If anyone says otherwise, they’re selling something.)

Fully cover your butt, and you’re already off to a good start.

Alright, back to the reprehensible jokers pictured above from J Crew. Here’s why these don’t work:

1. The rise is too high.
   J Crew saw we wanted higher rises, so they fed us slop akin to their AI-generated Vans ad from last summer. They didn’t think about why higher rises are good or what they should achieve, and they simply raised that rise with seemingly no direction or clarity on where it should stop.

2. Which leads me to the second issue: the fly is too short.
   This is a problem that plagues almost every modern, mass-market pants maker. On higher rises, flies need to extend to the full length of the rise to make the cut make sense when someone actually wears them. Otherwise, there’s just a blank space of fabric beneath the fly that veers dangerously close to the 2016 drop crotch joggers zone. *Moose-knuckle is also a common result of this issue.

3. Similarly: the pocket openings are impractically small.
   If you change the rise, you need to be aware that pockets need a slightly larger opening to make room for natural hand movement. Otherwise, the simple task of retrieving your chapstick is going to turn into an aura-deducting, cosmic struggle.

The real overarching issue is J Crew clearly had no opinion or perspective on high-rise pants. They don’t have anything to add to the conversation — just a product.

^{*My guy @thingsbyharan wearing a proper pair of midrise straight leg jeans.}

Conversely, Buck Mason is another mass-market brand who has arguably perfected this exact silhouette (pictured below). Why? Because they have a clear reference point they’re basing this idea off of. They didn’t say: people like high-rise, straight leg jeans, so let’s give those little piggies what they want. (Well, I’m not in their meetings, they might’ve said that.)

^{*Buck Mason’s “Full Saddle” jeans. (Commissionable link.)}

They clearly used vintage references and have carefully considered the details. The rise is high, but not out-of-whack with the proportions of a straight leg jean. The fly is the appropriate length. Likewise, the pockets make sense visually with the shape of the pants and where they’ll sit on the wearer’s body.

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^{*Few style a good pair of slacks better than this man, @danielzbaraka.}

It isn’t rocket science, it’s just striving to do more than create a SKU to appease a trend — making something that makes sense.

J Crew must’ve heard “high-rise, straight leg” and simply clicked and dragged the top block of the straight leg template and said, “There you go. Take Ivy or whatever. Also, it’s 30% off again.”

Therein lies the cautionary tale of the roomier top block: the rise — high, mid, or low — should not insist upon itself.

It should serve a purpose, be a means to an end, and complement a silhouette.

Because the complex truth that doesn’t serve the algorithm is this:

Higher rises are not better in a vacuum, they’re better working in concert with whatever look you’re trying to achieve.

I was born in Braves country and raised an Ole Miss fan. I followed Eli Manning to the Giants after having no NFL allegiance growing up.

When he and the G-Men won a Super Bowl in 2007, I doubled down on New York fandom, choosing to follow the Knicks. Basketball had always been my favorite sport, so after years of being an Iverson and Kobe fan, I was ready to root for a team.

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With the exception of a few months of Amare being an MVP candidate, Linsanity, a playoff run with Melo, and Porzingis’s unicorn moment, the next 14+ years was filled with the heart-ache I knew so well as an Ole Miss football fan.

Following a terrible team (or in my case, multiple) for so long changes how you watch sports, how you decide to root against your rivals, and what you pay attention to throughout the sports calendar — I don’t know how many seasons I spent checking tankathon.com daily.

Your fandom becomes a punchline. Sports optimism feels like a trap. Good outcomes feel like flukes. Friendly support feels condescending. Positive momentum is surely destined to halt. Sustained success is definitely impossible — and everyone else thinks so, too.

Then we signed Brunson, and things started to change. The team was winning, and we were a superstar away from something special.

The front office continued making shrewd moves — trading for Hart, signing Divo and Hartenstein, and trading for OG — while resisting shiny objects like Dame, Spida, or Embiid. I loved the team they were building, and they were changing what I thought was possible with every gritty win.

Before long, it became clear our search for a superstar was over. We had him in Brunson, and the championship window was officially open. The summer of 2024 solidified that sentiment when they traded every last asset for Bridges and Towns — moves I didn’t love in the moment.

The next year-and-change was mind-numbing, as the expectations didn’t seem to align with reality.

A heartbreaking loss to the Pacers left us wondering if this team had championship DNA, while the majority of this season we road a rollercoaster of team chemistry questions with a wide open East just begging the Knicks to get it together and make a run.

Then, on April 23rd, I was walking out of State Farm Arena with my Knicks down 2-1 to the Hawks, and that old mindset started to creep in again: “See? This was never gonna last.”

I thought the Knicks could rebound and win in 6, but years of losing had taught me not to trust hope.

Ironically, just a few months earlier the same thoughts entered my mind with Ole Miss. While closing out the best regular season in OM Football history, I should have been celebrating their first playoff berth.

Instead, I was being told by our own coach that my team wasn’t good enough to sustain success, and that it all had been a fluke, and that he was leaving us for a bigger school.

All those sports fan insecurities were being thrown in my face, not by rivals, but by the man who had helped me escape them. (I should’ve known this is what we signed up for with the Lane Kiffin experience.)

What followed was one of the most iconic and fun CFP runs ever, and a throw that could’ve sent them to the championship.

In similar fashion, the Knicks honored my and other fans’ hopes with the most dominant playoff run in NBA history, demoralizing an already beaten down Eastern Conference, and completing the two greatest playoff comebacks we’ve ever seen.

So much of this run felt like a fever dream. How could so much good happen to us after all this time? How could this team suddenly click? How could they be so fun and likable after being so frustrating and inconsistent? The turnaround was so abrupt and so distinct, it felt like fate.

I’ve rooted for Landry Fields and Alexa Shved, I believed in Trey Burke’s resurgence and Cleanthony Early’s potential, and I talked myself into Kevin Knox and Frank Ntilikina. How could I suddenly be the fan of a champion?

It was surreal — especially since the only games I attended during this run were game three of the Hawks series and game three of the Finals, the only losses of their last 17 games.

Still, as Game 5 of the NBA Finals entered the fourth quarter, with the Knicks down 7, I felt something I’d never felt before in my life: championship-level fan-confidence.

After almost 20 years of feeling sports failure, disappointment, unsuccessful signings, and cautious optimism, this team had made me a winner. I didn’t just think they could win, I knew it was already over because we had Jalen Brunson and a team that never quits.

Which makes it appropriate that Mike Breen called the closing moments of the game with a sentiment every Knick fan must’ve felt:

“It’s over! It’s over! Knick fans, this is not a dream! Your long, long wait has ended! Go ahead and cry… after 53 years the Knicks are finally NBA champions once again!”

This is not a dream, or a fluke, or a punchline.

The Knicks are champions, and they made me one, too.

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In the product’s description, they mention it was inspired by a “70s/80s northeastern knit,” which is just vague enough to really pique my interest — what was this mysterious knit, and are there vintage examples floating around the internet?

There aren’t a lot of hidden inspirations in menswear — most brands don’t deviate too far from military, workwear, sportswear, or tailoring influences — so it’s not typically that hard to track down even the most obscure references.

When I see a specific piece like this one, I like to investigate the original for two reasons: a. Sometimes the OG vintage version is available for much cheaper, and b. Understanding an original reference point can give you context for how something was intended to be used, styled, or otherwise fit into your wardrobe in a practical sense.

Once you understand a point of view, it can be borrowed, shifted, and personalized to fit your own life, but that original intention often provides a necessary framework to bounce off of and iterate from.

One of the clearest examples of this is in button up shirts, where pockets, collar styles, and hem lengths all tell the story of how a shirt is meant to be used. Some chest pockets are meant to hold pens, screws, and nails, while others are meant to hold handkerchiefs. Some collars exist to flatter your silhouette, others are made to move with your body. And some hem lengths are designed to be tucked down to your knees in high-rise trousers, while others are cut short to flow loose and allow freedom of movement.

Knowing the moss stitch knit’s inspiration stems from northeastern origins instantly lets me know this piece will feel at home with Ivy and workwear styles, but Wythe’s western inclinations give it new context to shift how you might’ve seen it under a different label. From there, I’ve got a point of view I can adopt and make my own.

These might not be things we consciously think about, but when someone says, “I can’t pull that off,” it’s almost always because something consciously or subconsciously feels out of context.

Maybe you don’t like western denim pearl snap shirts because they feel like cosplaying a cowboy. Or puffer vests make you feel like a finance bro. Or blazers make you feel stuffy. You may not always think, “I don’t wear that, because I don’t do those things,” but that’s likely what you feel.

But with anything, all it takes it seeing it through a different framework to suddenly feel like it can work for you. A pearl snap shirt worn with a suit can make it feel less rugged and more refined. A puffer vest worn with light wash jeans instead of Lululemon ABC pants can feel more fun like iconic 90s sportswear. And a blazer properly dressed down can look comfortable and evoke a sense of warmth.

This is what makes your style so interesting — taking something well-known and making it your own.

Almost every brand you shop — from mall stores to one-man shops — are reinterpreting 100-year-old garments that have already been made and remade for decades.

LEJ is a wonderful shirt maker who does a great job of referencing these vintage details in unique ways. Everything from their fabric choices to their laid back styling and very unserious lookbooks are just about as excellent as you can find on the market.

Still, for all of my enjoyment of their craftsmanship and general brand ethos, bringing home the above shirt would cost you $495 + tax and shipping. Regardless of your tax bracket or shirt budget, that’s a hefty price tag.

The oversized “safari” style pockets are the general standout detail on this shirt, and you don’t see them every day from your standard mall brand — likely because the extra fabric needed for pleated pockets shrinks their profit margins.

“Safari pockets” are a reference to 19th century British military and expedition gear, where lightweight shirts and jackets needed large, expandable pockets. These pockets are still extremely practical, but not typically used in more refined shirting or mass produced clothes (because so few of us are expedition-ing these days).

I went to the secondhand market with the search term “safari pockets” and was able to track down a vintage Polo Ralph Lauren interpretation of this style of shirt — named the “Ranger Shirt.” It may not have boasted the same painstaking fabric research or specific color and fit details LEJ offers, but it gets me 90% there for about $12 on eBay. (There are several still out there, for what it’s worth.)

I’ll take it!

As for the search to find Wythe’s inspiration for the Moss Stitch Collared Sweater? Turns out L.L. Bean had an iconic “nubby stitch” polo sweater in the 80s called a “Windjammer.” The cotton version is essentially identical to Wythe’s in every way, while the wool version of the Windjammer also looks very similar.

(The vintage shop “Bare Knuckles Boutique” had one last year — shoutout to them for the above and below imagery.)

Unfortunately, these are extremely rare, but I found out through this search that Noah NY created a similar version of this sweater in 100% cotton a few years back.

Ultimately, this search didn’t end in budget-friendly conquest, but I learned some useless information along the way, so that’s something. I’ve also hit up some of my favorite northeastern-based vintage curators to keep me posted if they come across one of these again — if you find a vintage shop you like, reaching out to them directly is a great way to track down rare pieces.

Chasing down the echo of a modern interpretation can lead you to a better alternative, while other times it just gives you a bit of trivia no one will ever ask for. And sometimes, it can save you $483. Give it a try!

Shoutout again to Wythe for continuing to make fun stuff as a brand. Highly recommend checking out their new collection if you haven’t already. This is not an ad.

I think he just likes sharing observations about things like the weather. I imagine that’s how he views adult conversations — we just say stuff about things with confidence.

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(The other day, he noticed his glasses fogging up while we played in the rain, and he said, “Daddy, my glasses are getting gloomy,” which was cute.)

Georgia has a fistful of “gloomy” days ahead after already weathering a storm or two.

(When we lived in New York, I had a neighbor from Northern Ireland who called a rainy day “a day for the ducks,” which has stuck with me.)

For whatever reason, yesterday — at the start of another duck day — this specific combination of faded dark green and faded navy or indigo or dark blue scratched an itch in my brain I didn’t know I had.

It made me happy.

All the usual hemming and hawing about what to wear on a warm-yet-rainy spring day, throwing a ‘fit, or achieving a look went out the window in favor of just wearing a couple of colors I liked.

And not a revolutionary color combo either — green and navy? It’s been done, by everyone. It’s classic, prosaic, and safe — borderline boring. But something about this exact, washed-out shade of each color hit slightly left of center in the best way possible.

The online menswear community can feel like it’s in a rush to extol its own virtue, flex its knowledge, or encourage consumption to achieve a look (often in the name of “timelessness”). It was nice to just be drawn to stuff I’ve owned for a long time simply because the colors struck some kind of chord or suited my mood, so I figured I’d post about it.

Simplicity amid the noise.

Steady, trickling rain on a “gloomy” day.

“How do I get started?”

”Where do you find this stuff?”

“Are you okay, man?”

The honest truth is I started shopping vintage at Park Ave Thrift in college and never stopped. As thrift gems have become less common, eBay, Etsy and the like have become my go-to shops.

Do you doom scroll at night? I search the deepest corners of the internet for this one chainstitch Polo Ralph Lauren hat I hunted for over a year. (Found it eventually by the way.)

Reverse image searches, endless combinations of SEO keywords, and even attempts to get on the Japanese side of the internet without any of the technical expertise to execute it… I’m a bot running on a code cocktail of nostalgia, diet coke, and idiocy.

Is this hobby (er, addiction) just as useless as doom scrolling? Yes. Equally self-loathing-inducing? You bet. But sometimes I score a 3-pack of dead stock Banana Republic Travel & Safari chinos for $20, so, that’s something… I guess. That Comm. Major being put to good use, for sure.

Alright - in honor of the best time of the year being upon us — the NBA playoffs — I wanted to share my All-Secondhand First Team. The gimmick is simple and intentionally reductive:

If you’re trying to get into vintage and want to know where to look, these are the five best place to start — plus a sixth man, because I’m a hedonist.

Point Guard - Polo Ralph Lauren Andrew Pants

There. Is. No. Better. Pant. On. Earth. They. Look. Good. On. Everyone.

That’s not a sales pitch, that’s a fact of life. Men, women, and children (found a couple of pairs for my son) — these are the best pants for you.

Buy ‘em a size up for something baggy, or buy your true size for something relaxed but not messy. Either way, know your measurements before you start — waist, inseam, and thigh are probably the most important ones.

Why the point guard? Because a good pair of pants sets the table for every other aspect of your ‘fit. A bad pair can ruin it — if a point guard doesn’t effectively get your best shot-makers the ball, those scorers might as well not exist.

A great pair of pants will change your wardrobe. They don’t make one getup work, they make any getup work.

Expected Price: $30-$40

Search Term: “Vintage Polo Ralph Lauren Andrew Pants Mens size X”

Tip 1: Add “Made in USA” or “USA” or “Italy” to find higher quality items.

Tip 2: Remove “Vintage” from the search to occasionally find better deals.

Tip 3: Use fewer filters and more search terms — many sellers don’t use filter-able details, so you’re more likely to find good deals or accurate results based on terms instead of filters.

Shooting Guard - The Game Caps

Sometimes you just need a hat that absolutely rips. A gem that makes a kid smile or your bro say, “dude, sick hat.”

(Notice I said nothing about making a woman weak a the knees. Hats are for the boys.)

It’s just nice to have one aspect of your wardrobe that can just put up numbers and keep the defense honest — an easy compliment-grabber that adds interest to an otherwise straightforward look. Caps are “ceiling raisers” for your ‘fit without taking anything away.

Sideline Archive on IG does a great job of cataloging the “sportswear wars” of the 90s. My favorite, for the price, is The Game. They still make them today, if you don’t want to go the vintage route, but I love the true retro feel the old ones carry.

Pick your favorite team, college or pro, or even events like the Final 4 and Olympics (pictured above), and The Game has something for you for the same price or cheaper than modern hats.

Expected Price: $20-$30

Search Terms: “Vintage The Game Cap [Insert Team or Event Name]”

Tip 1: Play around with different terms like “Snapback” or “Hat” instead of cap.

Tip 2: Give these a baking soda or Oxi Clean bath when you get them in.

Small Forward - Made in USA L.L. Bean Shirts

The metronome of the ensemble, the glue guy of the getup — your shirt should be dependable and always work within the flow of the ‘fit. A good forward can score in rhythm without disrupting the offense. Sure, it’s nice when they can get their own bucket, but a 3 & D wing more than earns their keep.

MiUSA L.L. Bean is the best variety and bang for your buck option you can find. Oxfords, work shirts, rugbys, westerns, or flannels — whether you need something preppy, Ivy, workwear-inspired, or GORP-y, there’s a buffet of options to choose from.

You won’t find the flashy details of some of Polo’s mixed-reference designs, or the crispness of Brooks Brothers, but they’re clearly well made, use good textures (corduroy, chamois, and heavyweight cotton), and have straightforward-but-solid designs. The sizing is also typically TTS, which takes some of the guess-work out of the equation — as always, again, know your measurements.

Expected Price: $30-$40

Search Terms: “Vintage LL Bean shirts made in usa mens [size]”

Tip 1: Use “USA” instead of “Made in USA” to open up the search a bit and get more results. Sellers use a lot of variations of this term in their listings.

Tip 2: Use fabrics, designs, or colors to narrow down your search. (They also make the best sweaters imo.)

Tip 3: One of the coolest shirts I’ve ever found is a LL Bean shirt that was “Made in Canada” (pictured above) so give that a whirl too — high quality denims and cottons were sourced from Canada and even India by these heritage brands.

Power Forward - Eddie Bauer Outerwear

The Power Forward position has changed a lot since the days of Tim Duncan and C-Webb, but the big-man’s role remains: versatile production.

Outerwear should perform functions and fill roles without disrupting flow. It needs to provide warmth without distorting proportions, insulate without warping shape. Few vintage brands do this as well as Eddie Bauer.

It is still the most undervalued heritage American clothing brand out there. Even as vintage fans recognize it’s merits, it manages to fly under the radar. It emulates a lot of what Ralph Lauren does well for 1/3 the price — though, often without the nuances or shine you’d expect from Ralph.

You can expect a lot of classic 90s workwear or outdoors-y hunting/camping/fishing garb (along with an excellent selection of pants and knits). Whether you want something novel that feels “retro” or a piece that feels at home in 2026, E.B. gets the job done.

Expected Price: Less than $50

Search Terms: “Vintage Eddie Bauer Made in USA [Hunting] Jacket”

“Vintage Eddie Bauer Made in USA [down vest]”

Tip 1: With broader searches like these, it helps to have a reference point to start with. “Hunting” or “Fishing” or “Cotton” or “Work Jacket” or “Fleece” all give you good results to work with.

Tip 2: There are distinct details on the MiUSA stuff that makes it stand out from a quality perspective, but there’s plenty of cool stuff that isn’t made in USA (the red jacket pictured above, for example), so if you’re up to expand your search and dive deeper, remove the “Made in USA” from your search and see what you find.

Center - Cole Haan Bragano Shoes

The evolution of the Center in basketball is very much in step with the evolution of footwear. Eight years ago — just as the center began to feel all but obsolete in basketball — sneaker culture imploded onto itself and left a massive void in the market.

That void would soon be filled by loafers, and the loafer craze has collectively sent us on an unending search for unique, well-made, understated footwear.

*To be clear, loafers have always been in the mix and obviously people will always wear sneakers. I’m speaking more to what people have considered “in” over time.

What we’ve learned since then is the center position isn’t useless, it’s just changed. It’s not enough just to be 7-feet-tall, you have to have a feel for the game and contribute beyond being a brick wall with arms. Skilled big men and freak athletes have completely shifted what’s expected from the man in the middle.

Similarly, shoes can’t just be hyped up or loud, they need to be interesting, complimentary, and quality. While there are shapes or silhouettes that certainly have people’s attention, any shape of shoe can fill a role if they compliment the rest of your fit.

Statement footwear still has its place — just like how Jokic, Wemby, and a healthy Embiid can lead a team — but more importantly, your footwear just needs to not take away from what you’re doing.

Vintage or secondhand shoes may not be your thing — and I get that (if that’s the case, I really like Tecovas if you want a vintage look without it feeling corny and overly ‘pre-distressed’). But my feet are already terrible, so I personally have nothing to lose by putting on someone else’s shoes.

If they are your thing, I really love vintage Cole Haan Bragano as an option. The leather is really solid quality, the designs are interesting enough to help you find something unique, and the price point is really affordable.

Whether you’re looking for loafers, oxfords, or derby’s, there’s a ton of options out there! I’ve found sizing to be true to size, or a half size down if you like shoes to be more snug.

Expected Price: Less than $75

Search Terms: “Cole Haan Bragano [Shoes or Loafers]”

Tip 1: Don’t be afraid to send egregiously low offers for these.

Sixth Man - Champion Tees

After the Carmy Tee craze from a couple of years ago, people started to get acquainted with “quality t shirts” and all that they entail — tubular knits, bound collars, and heavyweight cottons that mold to your body as you wear them.

It’s funny that Champion actually used to make their standard t-shirts with these features in the USA. There’s no side seam, the collar is sturdy, and the weight of the fabric is substantial. If you can find a blank, they’re worth grabbing, but, as you’d probably expect from a 90s sportswear powerhouse, the graphic tees are incredible as well.

The sixth man is all about carrying the production while the starters rest. On a day where you don’t feel like getting dressed, a solid graphic tee can be your secret weapon — your microwave scorer off the bench.

*The tee pictured above is a lucky find I grabbed recently after letting go of the iconic “Rachel Green” grey version of the same tee, which eventually disintegrated after too much wear.

Tip 1: These run small! Ask for the measurements if they’re not listed — chest an length is all you need to know.

I hope you enjoyed this sort of silly post! I’d love to share more vintage brands or search ideas, so if this is something you’re interested in learning more about, let me know!

Enjoy the playoffs and Go Knicks.

But what if there were a version designed to serve your routine rather than be sheltered from it? Luxury that neglects hype and aspiration in favor of comfort, utility, and craftsmanship.

I spoke with Nate Pozin and Harry Tillman recently — the co-founders of HAITCH — and this idea of redefined luxury kept coming up: the thought that we don’t need to water luxury down, but see it fully realized by trusting well-made garments to take on our lives.

How HAITCH Happened

HAITCH’s origins are equal parts inevitability and happenstance — a creation born out of need, want, and know-how.

Harry, from Berkshire, England, trained in traditional bespoke methods of pattern cutting and garment construction — the kind of Savile Row foundation that treats mastery of fit and drape like a religious rite.

His path took him from volunteering at Anderson & Sheppard on Fridays to formal tailoring education, to eventually cutting full garments and leading bespoke operations at Thom Sweeney in New York.

Nate’s path began on the other side of the fashion (and literal) world. A California native and lifelong musician, he moved to New York after graduating from Berkeley to work in consulting. That experience sharpened his interest in storytelling and brand building within creative spaces.

At the same time, he was touring with his band Hairpin and developing his own philosophy around creative identity before eventually joining Thom Sweeney’s New York showroom.

Their journeys converged at Thom Sweeney, where a shared vision took shape. The concept was simple but profound: garments should balance opulence and utility, creativity and restraint, beauty and durability.

After speaking with them via video call last week, it’s clear that balance has evolved into a philosophy that feels distinct in the menswear space.

Recontextualizing the Suit

As a dad who works for himself from home, luxury tailoring doesn’t exactly feel native to my life. But in truth, the suit itself has largely lost its daily utility. Most men don’t have to dress up for work anymore. Whether in a casual office or working remotely, performance fabrics and sweats have become the norm.

Where men once shed their suits after work in favor of something more comfortable, the baseline has shifted even further. Jeans and T-shirts are now the “dressed up” version of off-the-clock.

As Nate, Harry, and I talked through this cultural shift, they posed a simple challenge:

What if we flipped it?

What if we reached for our suits when we clocked out?

What if evening plans became the reason to opt for luxury more often than not?

As we unpacked those questions, the philosophy and logic behind HAITCH is as obvious as the quality of the garments they make.

On Not Being Precious About Your Clothes

“I wore a suit for everything [when I started at Thom Sweeney],” Nate told me.

Biking to work. Heading straight to band practice from luxury retail. Touring. Nights out. Through the process of wearing his well-made clothes day in and day out, he uncovered a simple truth that’s gotten lost in the messaging of luxury over the years:

“The nicer the stuff, the more you can wear it.”

That idea reframes everything for someone like me who has historically viewed tailoring as equal parts aspirational and situational.

Working in luxury, he learned to be less precious with handmade clothes. They’re made well. They’re meant to be worn hard.

In the same way a canvas workwear jacket should hold up to your 9–5, why couldn’t a suit handle your 7–2?

Now, Nate admitted there’s a version of this idea that goes too far.

“We had a client who wadded up his tux and threw it in a messenger bag. Maybe don’t do that.”

We laughed at the bold treatment of such a high-end piece, but the point stands: your best stuff shouldn’t be situational. It should be universal.

“A suit should last you 15 years.” Harry added.

Not a few seasons. Not five years. Not until trends change and you sell it at 2nd Street. A decade and a half! When men romanticize a “classic” wardrobe, this is the bell-weather we’re imagining — whether we know it or not. Something versatile, thoughtfully crafted, and, ultimately, cool.

Once you view your best clothes that way, the rest of your wardrobe becomes about filling gaps over time. That mindset is part of what pushed them to start HAITCH. They understood tailoring. They knew they’d live in those garments for years. But there were other pieces they wanted to reinterpret through their own lens.

They aren’t trying to sell you a suit. They want to help you build something that lasts decades — and soften the edges of your wardrobe along the way.

We Own The Night

One of their central ideas is focusing on what you wear when you clock out. Instead of defaulting to casual, what if that’s when you reach for your blazer? Or pair tailored trousers with a more relaxed top?

If most men dress down during the day, maybe night is where intention returns, and you redefine luxury for yourself.

We’ve already seen tailoring seep back into casual menswear — Ivy revivals, streetwear reinterpretations, looser silhouettes. There’s no shortage of inspiration returning to the forefront of the conversation.

“We talk about it in terms of pulling apart a suit,” Nate said.

They encourage clients to see suits as separates as much as sets. Blazers over tees. Relaxed trousers with knitwear. Structured pieces, worn down. Sprezzatura, tailoring without ceremony.

Their interest isn’t nostalgia. It’s reclaiming the pleasure of dressing well.

What Inspires HAITCH’s Approach?

When I asked about influences, they didn’t default to a list of Savile Row references.

Nate talked about womenswear — specifically, the way women interpret menswear. The play with drape, proportion, and silhouette feels freer. More sensual. Less rigid than what we’ve traditionally come to expect from men’s tailoring.

From their perspective, the suit has long been treated as a uniform in menswear. Meanwhile, women have long-since figured out that tailoring’s stoicism is something to play with, not submit to.

That’s an idea they love introducing to clients: try a wider trouser. Explore a more generous silhouette. Let the fabric drape, not just because it looks better, but because it feels better.

That thinking also informs their eventual ready-to-wear line. They want to make staples that appeal to classic male sensibilities, but with looseness and proportion that make them more interesting than what you’d find at a traditional luxury tailor.

The tension they’re always navigating is this: how do you have fun without losing structure? At its core, menswear is structured. That’s part of its appeal — clothes that work with your body and complement your shape, not fight against it. But structure doesn’t have to mean stiffness.

Beyond tailoring references, art, film, music, and pop culture all feed their perspective. There’s something to learn about proportion and attitude in all of it, and that’s not just about how a garment is cut, but about how it’s worn.

“I’m trying to earn my clothes”

I loved hearing Nate and Harry’s approach to personal style most of all…

Nate describes himself as a serial outfit repeater. If he loves something, he wears it constantly. The same suit styled differently, formulas refined instead of replaced.

Then he said something that stuck:

“I’m trying to earn my clothes.”

There’s something deeply appealing in that mindset. Wearing your best pieces enough that they feel stitched into your memories. Like game-worn jerseys from your own life.

Harry’s approach is aligned but distinct:

“I’ve always been obsessed with fit. As a kid, my mom would sew my trousers so they fit exactly how I wanted.”

Before wider cuts came back, he was already wearing them (and had been for years). Now he cuts his own patterns, eschewing trends in favor of his own sensibilities. In that same vein, he’ll pair that with a beaten-up T-shirt under a blazer and reach for a worn cashmere sweater over a new one. Buy well, and keep it forever.

Nate aptly summed up the proper approach to personal style:

“Go with your gut. Follow your instincts. Sometimes we over-index on what’s ‘cool.’ You want to stay on top of it, but in the end you have to stick with your gut.”

Coming from men who literally cut the cloth, that advice lands differently.

A Ready-to-Wear Line and What’s Next for HAITCH

If you ask any fashion enthusiast, there’s probably one specific piece of clothing they’d try to create for themselves if they could. For HAITCH, they obsessed over a specific red slub cotton T-shirt — dialing in dye, cut, texture. Two iterations. Endlessly running around the city.

Their realization: “We were forcing it. Who was going to buy this t shirt? We hadn’t earned our client’s trust yet.”

So they flipped the process and shifted their focus fully on what they knew best: tailoring. There’s a lesson there for anyone building something new — sometimes pursuing a passion comes with time, execution, and the right context to make it all come to fruition.

For Nate and Harry, the last two years have been all about trust.

“If a guy buys a suit from you, he’s much more likely to trust you with something as simple as a pair of jeans.”

Now, nearly two years since they set it aside, ready-to-wear is coming back into focus — but this time with a foundation of experience and trust.

The launch is still months away, but they did share some pieces they eventually want to make one day.

For Nate, an early 2000s photo of Bruce Willis fuels his current obsession — “It’s years after the airport pinterest moodboard stuff you see all the time. He’s got on this incredible pair of jeans… you can tell he just wore the hell out of them.” It may not be in their first launch, but he eventually wants to dial in a version of those jeans as part of their collection.

For Harry, there’s a canvas jacket he had as a kid that he would love to recreate with some unique dyeing and washing, but his true grail is a mac coat inspired by Del Boy from the iconic BBC show Only Fools and Horses. It’s something he’s wanted to recreate himself for years, and now he feels his chance is coming.

They see ready-to-wear as not just a place to make their personal style dreams come true, but a place to once again play against the structure of casual menswear. What they’re building towards isn’t just a hyped, seasonal drop list. Instead it’s intended to be a slow burn that helps men build a collected wardrobe over time, rather than a quick fix closet flip.

A Commitment to the Best Fabrics, Made in NYC.

Making garments in NYC isn’t easy, but it’s central to how they work. They use fabrics you’d expect from a true luxury house — Loro Piana, Dugdale, Holland & Sherry. Ready-to-wear will be made in New York using high-quality Japanese fabrics.

When I asked what they wanted HAITCH to be known as, Nate confirmed, “We want to be a luxury fashion house that does tailoring at the highest possible level.”

Sometimes the best inspiration results from the art of blending contrasting ideas. Nate and Harry’s approach is no exception.

But their inspirational sense of contrast doesn’t come from combining fashion genres and calling it something new. It comes from bringing a hard-wearing mindset to the historically buttoned-up world of tailoring — a perspective that opens up universal applications to previously precious pieces.

HAITCH has mastered the construction of something so unbelievably posh, and then encourages you to wear it til the wheels fall off. And as such, Nate and Harry aren’t asking you to buy more stuff, but change how you view them. Should you obsess over your wardrobe? Sure. Love what you wear? Absolutely. But most of all, HAITCH believes you should strive to earn your clothes.

The first question out of his mouth each morning since his big day has been, “is it my birthday, daddy?”

“No.” I’m resigned to say, “but wasn’t it so much fun?”

He bounds down the stairs, making sound effects like he’s Spider-man spinning webs around our house. He runs and jumps everywhere he goes, and asks me to do a full roster of Sesame Street character voices as I make his breakfast.

My younger son is 6 months old. We’re just starting to forge our unique connection as he begins to smile, reach for me, shake his head, and laugh with me. As each day passes, and they both continue to grow and change by the second, I’m gripped with the anxious question every parent asks:

How do I capture every second of this?

If ever a Groundhog Day could exist in real life, I’d want it to be right now. I’d wake up every day, answer that question, “No, but wasn’t it fun?” and soak in every second of every minute I spent with those boys. The wrestling, the talking, the messes, the pretending, the singing, the laughing… for all the difficult moments and lack of sleep, this phase of life is just loaded with magic.

And why wouldn’t it be? Learning and loving my kids is the most exciting thing since I fell in love with my wife. They so clearly have so much of her in them. How could I not find pure joy as my heart explodes with every nuance and detail I uncover along the way? I’m falling in love with this little human who feels so familiar yet so new. It’s a nearly unparalleled emotional phenomenon that every parent feels.

That’s probably why the accompanying sense of anxiety is as comical as it is distressing. I’m experiencing the moment, feeling the happiness within it, but longing to enjoy it more fully, fearing I’ll lose its melody amid the noise of life.

The anxieties go on… is it possible to enjoy it more? If I enjoy it the most, will I never forget it? Can I write it down vividly enough to picture it again when I read it back? If I take a video, can I capture a facsimile of what we’re experiencing?

Living it again and again until I’ve had my fill may be the only way I can make sure it all sticks with me… but we all know life’s too complex to actually work like that.

One day, over and over again? Time, frozen? Your family, on repeat?

That’s not how it goes. That’s not real. That’s a theme park ride — orchestrated, curated, devoid of the nuances and genuine surprises the future brings you. Someone else’s interpretation of the perfectly executed adventure.

You won’t enjoy it more just because you’re living it again, anymore than eating cookies for every meal would make them any more indulgent.

That anxiety you’re feeling is the equal and opposite reaction to the thrill of never knowing what moment of insanity will coming spilling out of your toddler next. That frustration is the other side of your joy. That fatigue is from pouring your energy into your legacy.

Freezing time, much like speeding it up or moving it in reverse, robs you of the moments between the moments. It takes you away from getting to know who they become, and who you become along with them.

This is the tension we all have to live with:

The perfect memories are fleeting the second you’re shrewd enough to recognize them.

(Hence their value.)

Repeating them, even with the best intentions, would sanitize them of their substance, drain the color from their image, and distort their authenticity. Knowing the punchline before the joke is told may be satisfying, but it doesn’t bring the vitality of an earnest laugh.

Dwelling on the transient nature of these times only ever distracts us in the moment and takes us out of the very thing we want to enjoy so much.

*You may be wondering, what does this have to do with your personal style?

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Well, there’s a similar level of ever-present anxiety surrounding the topic of style:

I have these jeans I love…

But are they on trend?

Are they timeless?

Are they versatile enough to get my money’s worth out of them?

Will they be durable enough?

Are they made by an “if you know, you know” brand?

There’s a sale — should I buy three more colors of them?

Now that I know I like this style, should I buy the nicer version of them?

Can I wear them to the office?

Will people judge me for liking them?

Do they go with stuff I already own?

I heard the vintage version of them is better, should I have gotten those?

Did I spend too much on them?

Wait, are they even authentic?

Are they my style?

Am I wearing them wrong?

Do they work on my body type?

If I lose weight will they fit better?

If I gain weight will they fit better?

Should I get them tailored?

What if I lose or gain weight after I get them tailored?

Do I actually like them?

Do they accept returns?

I’m gonna return them.

*Again, all of these anxieties are about a pair of jeans that someone actually liked.

Jeans are potentially the most appropriate parallel for the anxiety I feel about my family, because they’re so ubiquitous while remaining extremely nuanced for every individual. We all wear them, we all have opinions on them, and we all want something different out of them.

Entire communities are devoted to indigo fades on $400 jeans, while vintage fans seek out decades-old Levi’s that have already been worn to threads. Others just want to find something that looks good on them. Some are looking for the perfectly on-trend cut + wash combination to achieve a certain look.

I’ll never forget this post I saw on the “raw denim” subreddit a couple of years ago. A poster shared the fades on his jeans, which he developed through daily construction work. A commenter responded to the post:

“I’ve never wanted to have a blue collar job so badly.”

First of all, I’ll be the first to admit this comment is not the best look for the fashion nerd community at large, because I don’t think this person is being the least bit ironic.

This comment represents the very anxiety I’m feeling as a parent:

A selvedge denim enthusiast — who likely already loves his very expensive jeans — wants to enjoy them even more than he already does. He wants to freeze time and wear those jeans on repeat, so that they have the fades and markings that feel earned and make his jeans look even more beautiful, true, and authentic.

He’s not even asking to speed up time to get to the finished product, he just wants to find a way to genuinely maximize his enjoyment of them and the process of what they become along the way.

This anxiety feels so silly when it’s aimed at something so inconsequential. Why would we worry about our clothes so much that we’d envy someone else’s profession just because of how it effects what they wear?

Similarly, why should I worry about capturing each moment with my family adequately if I’m already loving each and every second of it?

The solution to quelch both anxieties is simple: be present.

As a dad, that means blocking out the fear of losing these perfect moments, and simply giving them all of my attention and affection. In doing so, I’ll trust my future self to properly preserve those precious memories. It’s not my job to chronicle every moment without error, it’s my job to make those moments count while I can.

When it comes to clothes, “being present” just means wearing the stuff you love again and again, and again, and again. Resist the temptation to overthink them before you’ve ever put them on. Don’t get them altered before you’ve even broken them in. Don’t look to buy another version of them just because you’re excited about them. Don’t stress about the stains or the rips or the holes. Don’t buy an entire outfit to go with them. Don’t long for what they’ll become one day so much that you fail to wear them now.

In an even more practical sense, maybe you should just buy the one piece of clothing you really want, wear it to threads, and see how you fall in love with every iteration of it along the way.

You’ll be surprised how this relieves your anxieties, inspires your creativity, and how it informs your future purchases.

Too often, we worry about making wholesale changes or get too excited about what new clothing may mean for us. The reality is the best stuff is the stuff that becomes woven into our lives through constant wear. They becomes tied to memories, pieces of your own personal history, “game-worn jerseys” from the best times of your life.

As Alfie at LEJ told me recently, “Clothes are about people.” And it’s true. Achieving the “look” of jeans worn by a construction worker has no value in a vacuum. It may give someone the aesthetic they’ve been after, but it’s no more authentic than buying a pre-faded pair of jeans from a mall brand. The memories made in those jeans won’t be tied to the real, surprising, unpredictable life you lead every day — any more than me repeating the same day with my sons creates more real memories than I’m already making.

This is why being present may be the best personal style choice you can make in 2026. Because consistently looking good and feeling good in your clothes may be as simple as wearing them long enough to make a mess of them.

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I breathe a familiar sigh of relief — I made it past the website crashes, the refreshes, and sensations of panic.

A message appears on the screen:

“You’re in Line…”

Now, I wait…

The screen updates, this time with a new message:

“There are 31,478 people ahead of you in line.”

As Lloyd Christmas once hoped aloud: “So you’re tellin’ me there’s a chance?”

I exited the window and went on with my day.

This feeling is why I don’t do “this” anymore — why I don’t chase after hyped up, limited release, collab sneakers. But recently, for the first time in years, there was a sneaker that really resonated with me, so I gave it a shot! And in return, I received the something that spurred much of the now-waning sneakerhead era:

I took the L.

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The psychology behind the “hype” era of fashion is as fascinating as the style choices themselves, and it largely explains the current state of style. Celebrity collabs with ubiquitous brands and luxury fashion houses drove up insane hype around limited release sneakers.

“Taking the L” became the entry point for the now-borderline-defunct sneaker reselling market, where losses drove people to the point of paying three, four, or even ten times the retail value of a pair of shoes.

The thrill of the chase, the pain of the loss, and the satisfaction of finally attaining what you — and so many others — wanted… it wasn’t just fashion, it was chemical, emotional, and addictive.

You probably know what happened from there…

As the resale market grew, so did the dupe market — which started out as taboo, but eventually became a sort of defiance to the entire hype eco-system (which is still lame, to be clear).

Sometime around 2020, the zeitgeist collectively packed up and moved on from hype. Whether it be a desire for authenticity or just fatigue from taking so many L’s, we all decided enough was enough. Classic sneaker silhouettes returned to the forefront, and — more relevantly — loafers became the casual shoe of choice for the fashion-forward. Yeezy’s had been replaced with GH Bass Weejy’s.

A yearning for “timelessness” displaced a desire to be on-trend (er, well, became the trend, depending on how cynical you are). Well-made shoes were the breath of fresh air we all needed after being flooded with over-marketed, under-performing shoes, and their dupes.

From there, we saw every manner of loafer for a 2-3 year span: from gaudy lug soles to sneaker loafers, the latter of which was probably a tipping point of sorts.

That brings us to last year, when the search for alternatives to loafers began at scale — what’s the “next” classic leather shoe we can turn to? What’s something we can embrace that is not hype-y, but is also not on everyone’s radar — the garment enthusiast’s desire for uniqueness will never not be part of the equation, no matter how much we extol the virtues of timelessness.

That search is still on — square toes, dainty shoes, mocs, bluchers, clogs, hiking boots, and even ballerina shoes culminated in the attempted self-fulfilling prophecy of bringing back boat shoes. (You can’t convince me this brief moment of delusion wasn’t an industry psyop.)

On the sneaker front, the obsession has become “low-profile” shoes — Puma Speedcats, New Balance’s Mui-Mui collab, and Nike’s Jacquemus release being excellent examples. Ultimately, this has been a massive market-correcting zig to the zag of chunky designer sneakers that had dominated the “fashion” sneaker world for nearly a decade.

This shift was something of a final nail in the coffin of the “hype” machine, a death blow to StockX and GOAT if there ever was one.

One of the popular silhouettes that’s taken center stage in that process is the German Army Trainer (GAT). Now, GATs have never really left. They’re one of the truly timeless and iconic sneaker models in existence, originally created in the ‘70s and surging in popularity at various times ever since.

Most leather shoemakers have their own version of GAT, which carries the familiar construction of the originals: white leather and grey suede upper with a gum sole. While I’ve never found Germain Army Trainers to be particularly offensive, I’ve also never found them terribly interesting either.

They are classics, but they have never really excited me much beyond their convention and relative trustworthiness. That is, until I came across the Adnitt GAT Shoe from Crown Northampton.

For the uninitiated, Crown Northampton is an England-based footwear and leather goods company that prides itself on all of their products being made-to-order and made in England. They use the highest quality materials and prioritize craftsmanship above all else.

While they make all kinds of leather shoes and boots, the Adnitt GAT stood out to me as the perfect shoe to embody the escape from hype and search for something simple, high quality, and classic (without feeling dated).

Crown Northampton was kind enough to send me a pair in “Sand” with a gum sole, and the look and feel are insane.

The lightweight, pebbled calf leather is supple, giving the shoe a vaguely unstructured feel that makes them comfortable right out of the box and will only mold to your foot the more you wear them. Their low-profile look also feels very at-home in 2025 and elevates them beyond the standard GAT we’ve all come to know.

After wearing them a lot the last month or so, I honestly can’t say enough about these sneakers. Take my word for it as someone who has taken a lot of L’s, made a lot of mistakes with footwear, and spent a lot of money on shoes that over-promise and under-deliver: These are the single best pair of trainers I’ve ever owned, bar none.

If you’re in the market for the best sneaker of 2025 and beyond, the Adnitt GAT is my choice, hands down. You can shop the sneakers here, where you can choose from a range of options for the upper, sole, and even width.

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I got the chance to talk with Jac Tremblay, the Club’s founder, about how it came to be, where he pulls inspiration, and what’s next—from community building to his mainline denim drop coming next week!

Let’s start at the beginning…

Nathan: What’s the origin story behind The Thirteen Club?

*A floor lay from one of TTC’s weekly vintage drops.

Jac: I started selling vintage clothes eight years ago in my dad's basement while I was still in school. At first, most of my buyers were locals—I was doing story sales of pieces I found at a nearby raghouse and thrift stores.

Over time, I became more consistent with it, did some pop-ups, quit my side job to focus fully on this, and launched The Thirteen Club three years after my first thrift find.

In the beginning, it was nothing like what it is now, but it already had a more curated, aesthetic-focused vibe. I was running two pages at the time; the original, more local one, and TTC. It was a lot of work, but TTC quickly started gaining attention, and I eventually stopped putting time into the first project.

*Styled photoshoots have become the calling card for TTC’s weekly drops.

From the start, I always wanted it to be more than just a reselling business. I wanted to create something full of character—something different from what was out there at the time.

As for the name The Thirteen Club—I don’t talk about it much, but it was actually a real club founded in the late 1890s as a statement against superstition. The members didn’t believe in bad luck from breaking mirrors, seeing black cats, or anything related to the number 13. It really resonated with me, since 13 has been my lucky number for as long as I can remember.

Nathan: And you've clearly done that!

It's a refreshing shift from the SEO-ification of vintage shopping, which tends to have an, "eat this up little piggies" feeling to it -- ie, let's round up a bunch of sought-after or algorithmically-hyped pieces and sell them for top dollar just because we know people will buy it.

That leads to my follow up question: one thing that has always surprised me with your releases is the price point. You're not price-gouging, and while the prices aren't cheap, they are very reasonable compared to other, similarly well-curated resellers.

Is that an intentional choice, or just a happy, balance-sheet-friendly accident?

Jac: I think, for the most part, we're trying to keep things as accessible as possible for the customer. We like the idea of not overcharging just because something is trendy. Good stuff comes and goes, I don’t need top dollar for everything. We always have tons of inventory. I'm happy with it, the customers are happy with it, it's a win-win.

What resonates most about The Thirteen Club is the styling…

Nathan: Vintage clothing often feels like chasing individual pieces rather than shopping for cohesive looks (lots of floor lays of one piece, and not a lot of modeling), especially in ways that feel so well-considered, but you've continued to find a way to bring together beautiful and interesting styling of pieces sold during each of your drops. I guess this question has two parts:

Was this always part of the vision for selling curated vintage?

*Selling vintage drops as a collection, rather than individual pieces is a novel concept in many ways, but one Jac has built his business and brand on.

Jac: I’ve always loved old lookbooks, vintage catalogs, and inspiration from the past. That’s something that constantly drives me—placing pieces into a full look and presenting them in context. I did that even with my first project, in a really simple way, and it was one of my favorite parts of creating content.

I’ve always struggled a bit with the idea of selling something I didn’t create. Styling became my way of adding a personal touch to vintage pieces. So to me, it was never a strategic decision or something I felt I had to do for the brand—it just came naturally.

Nathan: Where do you get your inspiration for styling? It doesn't feel like it pulls from any one place.

*Themed releases centered around ideas, rather than specific products has also been part of the approach that makes what TTC does feel more fun than most resellers.

Jac: That’s a good question! I never know exactly how to answer it, because we’re exposed to so many visuals and sources of inspiration every day. Honestly, I’d say it’s a bit of everything; old movies, celebrities from the '70s to '90s, Pinterest, random archive websites... I mainly do it out of curiosity and a love for seeing what’s been done around the world.

My style is kind of a hybrid: preppy meets streetwear, with touches of western and military influence here and there. These are all things I’m genuinely passionate about, even if I don’t always wear every style I admire.

Nathan: The authenticity and curiosity show up so much in the work you're doing man. It's funny how that stuff -- someone's taste, attention to detail, and genuine love for something -- translates through the creative process. It's all "just clothes," but your expression is apparent.

Jac: Thank you brother! This means the world to me!

Let’s talk about your mainline…

*Jac in his winter Mainline drop, The Rollneck Sweater.

Nathan: I have the rollneck sweater in azul, and it's just so good. Beyond the look, cut, and fabric, the construction is just wonderful. Your collection seems intentionally restrained and thus carefully considered so far, but you very clearly have a specific reference point for marrying vintage ideas with more modern silhouettes. It's the kind of vision that makes a vintage nerd like me tune into everything a brand does.

That said, is there a piece in your own collection -- or maybe a long-time grail or archival piece -- that you're itching to take a stab at remaking with your own sensibilities?

Jac: First off, thank you so much for saying that, it truly means the world to me, I appreciate it! It’s been a weird but amazing journey, developing an understanding of clothing through seeing so many well-made, thoughtful pieces over the last nine years.

Before that, my mom made most of my clothes when I was between 0 and 10, and that really taught me the importance of caring for clothing; understanding fabric, quality, and construction. I’ve always believed in having a wardrobe of versatile pieces that you can mix and match, keeping things simple, but in a good way.

*Sneak peaks of the upcoming Mainline denim drop!

When it comes to designing a piece for our mainline, it usually starts with me looking at my own wardrobe and thinking, Damn, that fit would’ve been perfect with a roll neck sweater, for example. I’ll go online to find something, but it’s never exactly how I imagined it, there’s always something off with the cut or the fabric.

So I try to sketch out what I saw in my mind in that moment, as best as I can.

I would never design something I wouldn’t personally wear or something that doesn’t fit into my wardrobe. It might sound a little selfish to create for myself, but I truly believe that’s the only way to offer the best product, because it’s coming from a personal, sentimental place.

*Mainline Denim Souvenirs drop July 17th!

I guess I still haven’t really answered your question… but I’m working on new products for upcoming collections. We’ve been sourcing a lot of vintage western pieces for our archive, and this is shaping up to be our biggest collection yet; leathers, caps, jackets, pants… lots of good stuff! It’s always a challenge to create something new that aligns with our DNA while honoring the vintage references, but that’s what I’m passionate about.

I’m really excited to share more soon!

Nathan: I remember you teasing a red striped western several months ago that I still think about every 3-4 days -- and based on what you said, I'm assuming/hoping it's part of the next big drop -- and now you've shared some images (via your IG Channel) from your upcoming drop of quarter zips and denim that look really wonderful.

I've seen a few creators/brands start "channels" on IG like the one you did, but something about the flow of how you do vintage drops, the unknown behind what mainline product you'll release next, and how interesting your new studio is has made yours the most enjoyable one I've seen yet.

Is that sort of -- pardon the online "content" buzzword here -- "community building" something you see as part of the "next phase" of The Thirteen Club? Our own sort of modern reimagining of the 1890s Thirteen Club, but instead of being against superstition, we just like really good pants.

Jac: Hahaha yes! I think growing the community on a larger scale is what I’ve been lacking the most since the beginning. I really do everything by myself, and I’ve always wanted to get closer to you guys.

But honestly, this isn’t my strength... my first language is French, and even though my English isn’t bad, I still feel a bit of a barrier when I try to express myself sometimes.

I think the [Instagram] channel is a fun way to break the aesthetic a bit and just talk to everyone like friends, to share opinions, etc. I'm working on it, and I genuinely want to build a community and have you all involved in different parts of the brand. That was always the goal—this is why it’s a club! Hopefully, in the coming months and years, this side of things will keep growing.

Last question…

Nathan: Military, workwear, and americana are the foundations of vintage clothing and are remade through all sorts of different lenses, but given your broad mixture of inspirations and influences, is there an era, genre, or subculture of vintage clothing that needs more love?

I think about trends like the recent obsession with golf attire or even people building brands/launches around gardening as examples of people reaching back to niche hobbies or ubiquitous subcultures to reinterpret them today.

Mostly just a curiosity if there's something where you're like, "oh man, I need to see a brand become the Buzz Rickson of 80s New Wave fashion." (Now that I type that out, that 100% needs to happen.)

Jac: Personally, I really enjoy 70s–00s surf gear. It’s not exactly niche, but I love it! There used to be amazing brands with incredible designs. Even the community and their style are super inspiring.

Thank you again to Jac for taking the time to answer my questions. From our few exchanges, it’s just abundantly clear he’s a gifted creative and all around excellent dude!

We did this interview nearly two months ago now, so we didn’t focus heavily on his upcoming Mainline “Denim Souvenirs” drop, launching on July 17th!

You can (and should) check out The Thirteen Club’s website here and follow them on IG here to keep up with weekly vintage drops and Mainline developments. (And don’t forget to join their channel to become part of the Club!)

Mike McLachlan has a rare ability to reimagine vintage garments into something that feels like it’s always existed — but with certain edges that make it stand alone. Through his brand Manresa, he brings deep-cut nostalgia, New England grit, and quiet detail into garments that feel lived-in from day one.

We caught up for a quick back-and-forth on the threads that shaped him, the challenges of committing to U.S. production, and why South Park might be more influential than you think.

Let’s get to it!

Nathan: One of the best things you’ve done is hone in on the oddities of vintage workwear, sportswear, and outdoors clothes.

There are some layers that mass produced clothes simply don’t have anymore—a clasp here or a pocket there… L.L. Bean and Eddie Bauer were masters grafting these functional details of outdoor and workwear garments into everyday pieces, and it’s clear that you’re carrying the mantle from those brands (among others like Big Mac and Blizzard Pruf) and adding your own spin to it.

The Yates Coat (pictured above) is phenomenal example of these details—it’s a barn jacket, but uses some hunting jacket details similar to Ralph Lauren, and then it’s really taken to the next level with game pockets at the chest.

As you say in the description of the jacket, it’s a combination of 2-3 different vintage pieces, and the uniqueness of it really stands out.

So this brings me to my first question:

Is there a vintage garm’—either in your collection or that you remember from growing up—that you really want to take your own stab at remaking?

Mike: My first snowboard jacket ruled, but I can’t even find a picture of it. It was a really sick burton jacket that was brown on the top half and a brown tan and orange plaid from the armpits down.

Technical outerwear is not our strong suit, but if I could attempt to bring that one back, I would definitely try—even if only to be able to wear the sample.

Nathan: A Manresa tech collection would be absolutely insane. I have similar things like that, whether it’s a pair of shorts, a jacket, or this old Toronto Blue Jays I lost when I moved out of my buddy’s apartment in college.

That thing fit me perfectly—I haven’t found a hat that fits me like that since. It’s funny how those things stick with us years later.

The piece that has seemed to stick most with people from Manresa is your Bittner Coat (pictured below)—or at least my introduction to Manresa came by way of the Bittner, courtesy of Jonah at Blackbird Spyplane—who rightfully extolled its glory a few years ago.

Obviously it’s cool to see a garment like that resonate with people after years of making things (my half-assed research says you started in 2018, is that right?), but is there one piece you’ve made that you’re personally most proud of or that resonates most with you?

I mean, this is a dream 20 years in the making, and when you see it you go, “Hell yeah, that’s why I did this!”

Mike: I started the idea of Manresa in 2017 but didn’t make it a real public effort to sell clothes until 2018. Before that, it was just a little hobby/passion project.

Currently, the proudest I have been of a piece is probably our selvedge 207 [pictured below], that we made this year. It took over a year and 4-5 rounds of sampling to get it done.

Making stuff in America is hard, but we learned a lot during that process, and to have stuck with it and finally got a couple pairs off the line to wear was pretty incredible.

I've also been very proud of the Bittner Coat—as it has just been so well received—and people love that piece as much as I do. That's always nice.

Nathan: I loved the campaign for that release—and the fit on the 207s look incredible. Where so many brands feel like they’re jumping on the selvedge denim trend, Made in USA denim feels so true to Manresa’s ethos (and, by extension, yours).

You’ve mentioned several times on IG (and even now in your response) that it was insanely difficult to make certain pieces stateside.

What’s one part of the process people really underestimate or never see?

Mike: Sewing and constructing things in America isn’t that difficult, if you want to buy the machines and do it yourself… or hire several sewists to make the product you’ve designed. It’s just expensive to get an operation like that off the ground.

Contracting American factories to make your product like we used to do in China is nearly impossible for a small brand. They have absurdly high MOQs, and even if you hit those minimums, they rarely will actually make exactly what you want.

They will make what is in their wheelhouse, or what is most efficient and profitable for them. [Conversely] when you make things overseas, you send a tech pack, and they make exactly what you want.

Also: American factories just don’t ever seem eager for new work. They often try and talk you out of working with them. That's why we've decided to build out our own factory and do it ourselves.

Nathan: That’s wild. Most of us don’t hear those stories, and I think it’s helpful for consumers to understand that it’s not just difficult, but it’s borderline impossible to get something done in the US the way you can overseas.

As we all get more informed and value transparency around how and where something is made—and thus judge brands based on their “made in” labels—we have to understand why making clothes here is difficult beyond just the cost.

Manufacturers who are unwilling partners are as much of a barrier to entry as anything else.

As far as you building your own factory, that’s incredible! I had no idea you were working on that.

I think so few brands put their money where their mouth is with this kind of thing—using "USA Made" or exploiting their own story as a marketing tool rather than being passionate about building something (or rebuilding, as you often say is the goal with New England garment manufacturing).

Your designs and your realness in your IG marketing already speak volumes, but seeing the painstaking efforts in manufacturing takes it to a whole other level.

Let’s talk about those designs a bit more. Most of them carry a name or story that gives us insight into your world, family, and childhood, which makes them resonate with people that much more.

It’s why us vintage nerds love these kinds of clothes — the story.

Is there something outside of fashion that you pull inspiration from from on the regular?

I feel basic for asking, but it’s plain to see how you’ve got your vision dialed in from vintage clothes and New England roots, so I’d love to know where the twist that makes it feel uniquely “Manresa” comes from.

Mike: As I've discovered how special and unique New England is, diving into the history of all these small towns and former industrial hubs and just the general history of the region (as well as the natural beauty) is always very inspirational and provides a lot of context for the way I design.

Also, South Park and the genius that is Matt and Trey always fire me up. The way that they create the entire show in-house… their insane attention to detail, and their ability to evoke certain emotions or experiences with their movies, and plays, and now restaurant is pretty special for me.

Nathan: That actually makes a ton of sense! The undertone of your social media and website copy has always had a bit of a sarcastic and self-deprecating bite to it. It’s ultimately good-natured, but you carry a sort of “let’s not take ourselves too seriously” approach to everything you do that stands out to me—that’s how I tend to view things myself.

Being that you’re the voice of the brand, I love knowing Matt and Trey are the sort of comedic angel and devil on your shoulders as you process your own inspiration and work.

We’re already past three questions here, but now that we’ve justifiably praised your work, can you tell me about something that didn’t work?

What’s a piece you made that totally flopped — but you still love it anyway? For whatever reason, it didn't resonate with your audience, but I’m sure it meant a lot to you.

Mike: Outerwear and pants are always the toughest. Pants people really don’t experiment much, so if we try to push a boundary and make something new, they sit for at least the first release.

I made a pretty sick pant called the Burly Pant [pictured below] a couple years ago. It had beautiful texture and pocket shapes and function, but people just didn’t want that from me at the time.

Ended up donating almost all of them.

Nathan: People really are picky about pants, so if they can’t try them on or don’t already trust the brand, it makes sense they’d take time to hit. I also feel like the details you add in can be tough to understand without seeing them in hand.

The Haven Pant (pictured above) you did for this collection is a solid example. Using slant pockets is a fun and functional workwear detail some people will miss, and the fabric is absolutely insane, but that doesn’t always translate through photos. That said, the pair I own of my favorite things right now.

Those pants were part of the SS25 collection, so lets finish with that.

If you're building a 'fit of just SS25 Manresa pieces, what's the look?

Help the people put together a full kit from the collection.

Mike: Ram Island Shorts are some of the only things I wear in the warmer months (that and our ravine shorts, coming out soon).

The Mac Shirt we ran this season was made of some of the nicest fabric we've ever used. I wear the clay color most days.

And if its a cool New England night—maybe with a chance of showers—I’d put on the Pecks Coat—really proud of that piece. [It’s] simple and very functional.

One last big “thank you” to Mike for taking the time to answer my questions. I’ve been buying from Manresa for a few years, and any time I’ve chatted with him, he’s been nothing short of awesome.

Telling part of his story has truly been an absolute blast.

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If you’re into clothes with a story — or just want to wear something that doesn’t feel mass-made — or want to buy from a good dude with a clear vision, Manresa’s more than worth a look!

You can check out their latest collection here.

And follow Manresa on Instagram here for future drops!

Something just happened that—for a long time—I honestly thought I’d never see: the Knicks made the Eastern Conference Finals.

Even I expected the reigning champs to dismiss my Knickerbockers in 5, 6 games tops. But after relentless and gritty clutch moments, I find myself in a strange ethereal place: a Knick fan, euphoric.

I used to write about sports regularly, and I wrote the below post on Sunday, April 3rd in 2016.

The Knicks had inexplicably traded their draft pick years earlier to the Raptors for an already washed up Andrea Bargnani (a pick which became Jamal Murray), and their stars were injured, so they had less than nothing to play for—losing didn’t help us, and winning didn’t matter when you’re that many miles away from the playoff race.

Phil Jackson had taken over the franchise 2 years earlier and had carried us to the most hopeless place I had ever experienced as a sports fan.

Watching a game at this point in that season was true sicko-stuff—nasty work in the worst sense. These were the minutes and who played in the game:

Gross.

Anyways, I thought it would be fun to revisit the musings of a 24 year old Knick fan who needed to make himself chuckle in a time of sports fandom turmoil. It’s all the more ironic—and perhaps appropriate—that the Knicks were playing the Pacers that night (the lone team now standing between the and a Finals berth).

Moments like the one below make wins like last night that much sweeter.

Go Knicks!

The Knicks, sans KP and Melo, are down 2 with 23 seconds on the clock and have the ball with a chance to tie or go for the win against the playoff bound Pacers.

Sure, the Knicks are as far from the playoffs as my next pickup team, but this is why I treated myself to NBA League Pass this season, right? My malnourished, playoff-deprived fan-soul is salivating for something to rejoice about.

I think to myself in this moment, “Is this who I am now? Do I really want to subject myself to this at 9:08 on a Sunday night? The Walking Dead Finale just started. It’s not too late to get out of here.”

My wife, sweetly sitting next to me, gazing intently at her phone, likely thinks the same, “Here we go… Why does he do this to himself?”

Do I hate myself? What other reason could there be for forcing myself to be a Knick fan? It has to be in some way tied to whatever drove me to eat 3/8 of a leftover peanut butter pie on vacation last summer, which was decadent, but left my insides sweating. Similarly, whatever joy sports bring me feels largely detrimental to my long-term health.

Maybe it’s just my choice of dessert! I could’ve been a Hawks fan — a refreshing and light sorbet of sorts. Even the Pre-Bud days were better than these Rambis-led, hapless Knickerbockers of 2016.

This is far from new territory for me as a sports fan, though. Whatever the motivation — subconscious or expressed — I’m inevitably drawn to the dysfunctional, masochistic, self-inflicted-wound-ers of the sports world.

I grew up an Ole Miss fan, suffering gut-wrenching losses and heartbreaking meltdowns on a seemingly weekly basis.

“We played ’em well!” and, “Our guys have nothing to be ashamed of” were weekly messages of self-assurance during Falls at the Page household.

As I sit and stare at the leftover peanut butter pie that is my sports fandom, I know any moment of indulgence will soon be followed by regret. My defense-mechanisms of humor and self-deprecation bubble to the surface as I go to take a bite. Reflexively, a southern accent resembling my Mississippi-residing grandmother’s voice comes out: “next stop, my thighs.”

I take a bite, embrace my fate. (If only the Knicks could be half as sweet.)

Whatever drove me to this point, I’m here now, anxious to see what arguably (er, assuredly) the worst head coach in NBA history is going to draw up for New York’s darling basketball club.

The Garden is buzzing with excitement, as if Willis Reed and Clyde Frazier were lining up to inbound the ball. I feel the energy through the screen and am inevitably caught up in it, too.

I can’t help but believe, even when Sasha Vujacic is on the court in crunch time.

Wait… Sasha Vujacic is on the court? Why? He shouldn’t be on ANY court at this point of his career — and certainly not an NBA court — when the outcome is in question.

Not a fan of that decision, Kurt. In fact, I feel the exact opposite about that decision as you do about pornographic Twitter accounts (allegedly ).

No worries. Surely Sasha’s just out there to be a veteran presence. I highly doubt he’ll get his number called.

Still, why not put in some of the young guys to gain experience like a normal team? I guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks to lose games and not me.

I know I sound cynical, and that’s because Phil Jackson has broken me. But my optimism wars against my doubt, making me hopeful that the ‘Bockers will fail to disappo — Oh my… they did it… he wasn’t just out there to be a veteran presence in crunch time.

Sasha Vujacic, known mostly for how forgettable he is, receives a crisp inbounds pass,

(they’re just inbounding the ball to him to set up the offense… After all, there are still 23 seconds on the clock. Holding the ball for “ONE SHOT” is the obvious call in this situation…)

he dribbles off a ball screen,

(is he going for a pick and pop? Not the worst call. Maybe it’ll set something else up. I mean, it works for the Warriors all the time...)

he hang dribbles off another ball screen,

(this is the moment when I realize what’s actually happening. He’s not passing the ball. Sasha is lining up his sights. He’s not acting alone either. This is not a masked vigilantly acting outside of the law. This is a man-boy with clear, if not irrational instructions and a stick of dynamite, and it’s not going to end well)

and he hurls the ball towards the hoop in the (um) unorthodox, both-handed way that he does.

As it has for most of his career, the ball clanks off the back of the rim, along with my Sunday night.

19 seconds remain on the clock.

How does one make that call with the game on the line?

Let me guess, Kurt… you were hacked?

In true New York Knicks’ fashion, they inbound the ball to Afflalo on the next possession. He makes a three! (Because he’s an actual professional basketball player.)

Only, he was out of bounds before the shot (Because, of course he was). Pacers ball… Time to watch The Walking Dead.