Last year, Story mfg. released their signature Sundae Jacket in a limited run of deadstock handwoven cotton fabric from Thailand. Those last seven words on their own are music to my ears. But that particular jacket looked incredible, too.

Just look at this fabric. Yes, it’s striped, and the non‑trivial color coordination works really well. But on closer look, it’s straight‑up wild. The stripes are irregular and even erratic. The threads are of different thicknesses, and the hand‑woven process adds random variations to how they intersect.

If that wasn’t enough, there is much more color variation than what you see in the stripes. It’s not just blue, black, orange, and green. If you zoom in, you will see all sorts of different colors, including pink, yellow, purple, and azure. Sometimes they sit thinly between the wider stripes, but sometimes they just pop up randomly here and there.

This pre‑industrial disorder creates a vividly subtle fabric; its natural allure comes from the real substance that goes into it. No wonder Story mfg. named this release the Artist Series. Progress has allowed for faster and more precise manufacturing, but it turns out that as individuals, we seek beauty, not efficiency. So we’ve got to appreciate brands that take the time and effort to find people who are still capable of doing things the old, inefficient way.

Anyway, the Artist Series jackets sold out in minutes last year. And since the fabric was deadstock, there were zero chances they would ever come back. I tried looking at secondary market without any luck. I missed out, and the jackets were gone.

What was really annoying was that the brand kept using imagery from the Artist Series for its Instagram ads. So I started replying to stories, asking if they had any plans to bring the jackets back. I bet that was annoying too. But I was hopeless. Or rather, I had a slight hope that a random jacket would materialise out of nowhere. Slim chances, but you know — a return, a late delivery, a few pieces lost in a warehouse.

At some point, the brand responded to me, saying they didn’t have immediate plans to restock but they were working on it. A glimmer of hope. Then, in February, Saeed Al‑Rubeyi, the co‑founder of the brand, confirmed in his behind‑the‑scenes newsletter that they had found the original weavers and were working on recreating the deadstock fabric for another run of Artist Series. So I opened the Story mfg. jackets page on my phone and refreshed it every morning. In parallel, I reached out to Saeed to get more details on release dates, because I couldn’t miss it again. He was kind enough to respond and said April or May. I breathed out and put my morning routine on hold.

Finally, mid‑May, Story mfg. officially announced that the jackets were coming soon. I half‑jokingly asked if I could pre‑pay in advance to reserve one. Brands usually don’t like doing this because it’s unfair to other shoppers. But Story mfg. shared pictures of the upcoming release with me before they went public. Aaand… it turned out these were different jackets.

Same Sundae style, same artisans in Thailand, same fabric, but in different colors. I was devastated. I’d been poking the brand for so long and they were kind enough to respond — but I wanted the original jacket.

The release was fine, too, especially the checkered shirts: the color coordination and pattern on those were superb. The contrasty blue/black and purple/black jackets weren’t really my thing, but I was almost ready to take consolation in the third option that came in a calmer Navajo‑like pattern. But then the brand hinted the original jackets would be coming back too, in a separate release the following month.

The brand announced sign‑ups for release notifications, so I did. But that didn’t ease my anxiety — what if that email arrived in the middle of a working day, when I was away from the extraordinarily important job of copping limited clothing releases online? Fortunately, Story mfg. then announced the exact time of the drop, so I just set an alarm not to miss it.

I wonder how many people were really as determined as I was. I didn’t care. The previous release did sell out instantly, so I just could not take the risk. When the time came, the alarm went off, I refreshed the open tab on my phone, and there it was. Three quick taps and the jacket was in my cart. I hit Apple Pay and completed the transaction. What a relief.

Two days later, the jacket arrived. Now, imagine you’ve read this article all the way here and I then told you it wasn’t as good as I’d pictured. No, the whole point of this article is to justify an expensive, unnecessary purchase by proving to people on the internet that it’s unlike anything they’ve seen before. So yes, the jacket is beautiful. But in a completely different way than I imagined.

The silhouette of the Sundae Jacket is an interpretation of a classic Type 1/Type 2 denim jacket. That’s why this fabric fits it really well: old denim jackets did get lined with striped woolen blankets. But the thing is, it’s the complete opposite of a blanket.

Just as in the photographs, the fabric is slubby, irregular, and almost randomly multi‑colored. But what looked like a solid fabric in pictures turned out to be fully transparent in real life. It’s a sieve curtain, not a blanket. When held against light, you can literally see through it.

Upon closer inspection, the weave is so loose I’m not even sure how the whole thing holds together. The gaps between threads reach millimeters. The fabric is super lightweight, has no stretch to it, and doesn’t hold any shape.

This fabric makes it more of a shirt than a jacket, which has already come in pretty handy this summer when I’ve wanted to throw something over a t‑shirt even though I didn’t really need anything. Questionable motivation, I know, but also rather practical, too. It’ll probably work as a mid‑layer under a real jacket or coat. I’ve got the solution, but I’m yet to find the use cases for it.

Surprisingly, six weeks later the jacket is still in stock in some sizes. Maybe the production run this time was much bigger, since the brand reproduced the fabric from scratch. Or maybe I just got a bit too agitated. Very likely. Regardless, I now have this ridiculous personal story to tell — and maybe that’s what I chase all along.

I do my best to document personal stories with clothing. But I really need your help to help others discover it too — it’s more fun to geek out over such things together. I’d greatly appreciate it if you could share this article with your friends and those who might dig it — on Reddits, socials, group chats, and forums. Hitting a ❤️ and restacking it on Substack is huge help and motivation, too!

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Seriously though, I’ve been wanting Hender Scheme shoes for years. I gave my wife a laptop sleeve, then a pillow. She gave me home slippers and a camera strap. We like it all in raw, natural vegetable-tanned leather, of course. But it’s really the MIP shoe line that Hender Scheme has become known for.

MIP stands for “Manual Industrial Products”: Hender Scheme recreates legendary sneaker silhouettes by hand, in natural veg-tan leather. I think I first discovered their MIP-01 — an honest reproduction of the Nike Air Force 1 — through the now-closed Brooklyn store Gentry (whose selection and styling still feel relevant today). The idea of an iconic silhouette, made in small batches by hand from raw leather that changes drastically over time, completely blew me away.

Here is how the brand’s founder, Ryo Kashiwazaki, described the concept in an interview with Intelligence Magazine (the now-closed print publication by Haven):

I don’t actually regard a brand new pair of Hender Scheme shoes to be in its final and complete form, because it’s made to be used. Ideally, once a person has a pair and starts using them, it becomes their own. They might look nice on display, but it’s a tool meant to be used. The way the sole wears down, whether someone likes their leather dirty or clean, in the end, I see a new pair of Hender Schemes at 80% of its journey. The remaining 20% only takes effect once someone puts them on and starts walking. This is what I believe to be at the foundation of Hender Scheme.

I pretty much think Hender Scheme started the whole microtrend of natural veg-tan sneakers. Just two years after the brand first released the MIP line, their own versions were introduced by Asics, Epaulet, adidas, and Victory Sportswear. Eventually, big companies embraced the artisanal Japanese brand by releasing official collaborations — a rare example of the industry recognizing the game, not fighting it.

Anyway, the philosophy behind MIP resonates with me deeply. It’s exactly the reason why I love raw denim: natural veg-tan leather is the perfect canvas for building a true luxury. Still, I wasn’t prepared for the aging process to begin this soon.

At first, I wanted to interfere as little as possible. I was just going to put them on and let whatever happened, happen. Obviously, I wasn’t going to wear them in the rain, but I decided not to worry about random splashes that would inevitably leave permanent marks — that’s kind of the whole point. Maybe I’d give the leather some nourishment when it felt dry, but only on top of whatever dirt had already built up. Sooner rather than later, this should result in a stained, uneven, beat-up patina. Which is kind of absurd, considering the premium price and the amount of manual labor that went into the product.

But life rarely goes according to plan. The problem with the Hender Scheme MIP shoes is that even the soles are made from raw, natural veg-tan leather. I’m all for dirty patina, but degrading bottoms wouldn’t add much to it. Fortunately, with the MIP 29, Hender Scheme was generous enough to cover at least a third of the riskiest real estate with rubber protection. I’m not sure what distracted them from the remaining part, but it must have been something even more vulnerable.

With classic leather-soled shoes, I’d just take them to a cobbler to have steel toe plates put on, without a second thought. But in the case of the MIP 29, that didn’t feel right, despite the fact that this isn’t exactly a sneaker silhouette. Rubber toe taps would probably do the job, but I couldn’t bring myself to operate on that pristine, naked leather. Instead, I opted to nurture it.

I purchased a bottle of Saphir Leather Sole Guard, which is designed specifically to protect leather soles from abrasion and water. I don’t expect Saphir had raw, natural leather soles in mind, but it’s my best bet. I think I’ve already applied almost half the bottle to my Hender Scheme shoes. Saphir recommends letting every second application dry overnight, so the process took a few weeks. Quick reminder: by this point, I still haven’t worn the shoes even once.

I’m yet to find out how much protection the Sole Guard can actually provide. To be honest, I don’t expect much. Still, the color change from nude beige to milk chocolate brown suggests the soles did absorb the multiple layers I applied. But that came at a cost.

One night, I accidentally left the right shoe touching the cloth I used to apply the Sole Guard. The next morning, I found the toe stained — this leather is so raw that it literally soaked up the product from the cloth. Another day, I stained the left shoe with three tiny droplets of blood from a cut on my finger. I tried applying a tiny amount of cold water and ended up with yet another stain.

Look, I’m not complaining. It’s just not how I imagined breaking in a new pair of shoes made from raw, natural veg-tan leather. It turned out to be a lot less romantic in reality. It’s one thing to spill a beer on them in a pub. But I haven’t even worn them once.

So, guess what I did next? No, of course I didn’t start wearing them. I had to fix the stains first. I figured there was hardly any way to remove the damage, so I’d better smooth it out. I reached for a neutral cream from Bally — probably the most random shoe product I’ve ever purchased. I’d only used it a few times on my old longwings, but it felt really good on my fingers and smelled nice, too. Not the most scientific approach, I know. But I applied a tiny amount first and left overnight — it hardly affected the color. Then I applied a few thin layers over the stains, trying to blend them in. I had plenty of time, since I was applying the Sole Guard to the soles anyway. Little by little, the stains started to fade, or rather blend into the rest of the leather.

Encouraged by how little the neutral cream changed the color, I faced a hard decision: treat only the stained areas, or apply it all over. On the one hand, the whole point of natural veg-tan leather is to get dirty and stained. On the other hand, I didn’t like those first random marks. So I ended up applying a few thin layers across the entire shoe, except for the moccasin strip and the collar piece. It didn’t change the color much — you can hardly notice the difference — but hopefully it gives the leather some level of protection. Watching how absorbent this natural veg-tan leather is, I don’t really think a neutral cream is capable of blocking the impact of sun, moisture, or dirt.

Now that I’ve shared the story, I’m finally ready to step out into the wild wearing these not-so-pristine, but still pretty naked shoes. You can tell we’ve already been through a lot together, and I’m damn sure we’ve got many more challenges ahead. Challenges that will only make the relationship stronger. One day, they’ll be strong enough to turn into true luxury.

Wish me luck, and I’ll keep you updated on the progress as always.

Do you have clothing that required work before wearing it? Or any upsetting experiences with new items?

Anyway, thank you for reading to the end! If you have any questions or comments about Hender Scheme, please join the conversation in the comments section on Substack.

Lastly, I do my best to document personal stories with clothing. But I really need your help to help others discover it too — it’s more fun to geek out over such things together. I’d greatly appreciate it if you could share this article with your friends and those who might dig it — on Reddits, socials, group chats, and forums. Hitting a ❤️ and restacking it on Substack is huge help and motivation, too!

Listen on SoundCloud

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Long story short, I sized up even though the 100x denim is sanforized, wore the jeans briefly before taking a warm bath in them, and then threw them in the washing machine for the very first time after 55 wears. I hoped that would be enough for the first signs of honeycomb fades behind the knees to appear and that I would wash the jeans regularly ever after, but that didn’t happen. So I had to delay the second wash for another 50 wears. I’m excited to report on the results.

First, here is the pair at the 102-wear mark before the second machine wash:

A worn pair of jeans forms a convex pattern, so it’s a bit challenging to convey the color accurately. But the shade hasn’t changed much over the last 50 wears.

Front pocket bags remain intact. The coveted honeycombs? Still almost nonexistent — and another machine wash could do nothing about it:

To be honest, unlike the first machine wash, the second one made minimal impact. The color barely shifted, and the fades didn’t get more pronounced, which is totally fine; you have to wash denim a lot before it lightens up, and I’m not in a hurry.

One thing did change, albeit slightly — the fit. The last time I measured the jeans was after the first wash; since then, the waist and front rise gave 0.5 cm back, although this might be a margin of error. After the second wash, the waist, front rise, and back rise shrank by 0.5 cm, while the inseam shrank by 1.5 cm. Again, this can be the error of measurement — the first wash didn’t affect the fit at all. But based on my previous experience with both sanforized and one-wash denim, jeans do continue to shrink over time, little by little. So I do my best to document this.

Here are the measurements taken before and after the second wash, following the official 3sixteen measuring guide:

• Waist: 45 cm (17.7 in) / 44.5 cm (17.5 in)

• Front Rise: 34 cm (13.4 in) / 33.5 cm (13.2 in)

• Back Rise: 43.5 cm (17.1 in) / 43 (16.9 in)

• Inseam: 88 cm (34.65 in) / 86.5 cm (34 in)

• Leg Opening: 24 cm (9.45 in) / 24 cm (9.45 in)

Initially, the plan was to defer the first machine wash until the whisker and honeycomb patterns set in and then wash as often as once every five wears. But neither 55 wears nor 102 wears were enough for honeycombs to appear. That’s why I’m breaking the plan again and giving the pair another 50-day run before the next wash. As always, I’ll keep you updated.

What’s your latest pair of jeans and how is the progress? Do people buy raw denim at all nowadays? Trends definitely favor pre-distressed jeans but I don’t want to give in. There is something about completing the journey of fading yourself without taking shortcuts. The pursuit of true luxury.

Anyway, thank you for reading till the end! If you have any questions or comments about the 3sixteen jeans or denim in general, please, join the conversation in the comments section on Substack.

Lastly, I do my best to document how quality things age. But I really need your help to help others discover it too — it’s more fun to geek out over it together. I would greatly appreciate it if you could share this article with your friends and those who might dig it — on Reddits, socials, group chats, and forums. Hitting a ❤️ and restacking it on Substack is huge help and motivation, too!

Listen on SoundCloud

soundcloud.com/vacations_on/sets/feb-26

Listen on Spotify (13 out of 23 tracks available)

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This is the worst kind of article because it’s basically me throwing out a completely subjective and superficial take. More often than not, these kinds of statements don’t stand the test of time. If you disagree, that’s fair — it might not resonate with you. I’d still be glad to debate it in the comments.

Anyway, by this point, A.Presse been going down, it ain’t new. So I’m not here to introduce you to some cool, “under‑the‑radar” brand you “definitely need to check out”. Because you probably don’t. It’s hard to justify an $800 hoodie — although I have written about a $1,895 life jacket before. It’s not that it’s necessarily overpriced. The cost presumably covers all the sweet stuff the media drools over: impeccable drape, period‑correct details, exclusive washing and dyeing processes, and unprecedented fabrics.

To be honest, I don’t know how much of that is true, or what difference it really makes. Some people claim there’s nothing special about A.Presse shirts. Others rave about 80‑year‑old prisoner pants. I’m not sure how I feel about reproducing the thinning of fabric, overdyeing it in pink, and then washing it out until it’s barely noticeable. I admire the effort, but it sits on the edge of art rather than clothing. Personally, I’d rather achieve that patina myself by wearing, washing, and mending — that’s true luxury to me.

All these speculations fade, though, next to A.Presse’s insanely cool styling. Where Drake’s is for good boys, Aimé Leon Dore for supposedly tasteful hypebeasts, and Adret for the unattainable wealth — A.Presse is pure, undisputed coolness.

While it’s not designer Kazuma Shigematsu’s first project, it’s still rare for a new brand to set the tone right from the start. Let’s take a look at the journey.

FW22

The signature styling notes — frivolous collars, unbuttoned shirts, tucked sweaters, and high-waisted, slightly cropped pants — appeared right from the first season. Looks 2, 3, and 5 became quintessential A.Presse. But the proportions don’t quite work in 1 and 6, while 4 is a total miss.

SS23

The next season was already stronger. Kazuma Shigematsu likes to say he doesn’t invent anything new — he just refines what’s already timeless. The looks in the bottom row prove this point perfectly. That’s also why the jacket in the third photograph doesn’t work. Looks 1 and 2 are signature.

FW23

Again, some looks — 2, 3, 5, and 6 — are perfection. But the pants in the first photo run a little too slim, and that chunky knit over a denim jacket just doesn’t make sense — too forced and too tight.

SS24

This is the season when I first noticed A.Presse — and I was intrigued. There’s almost a movie quality to these photographs. A nouvelle vague mood, with the Jean Seberg-looking model and the pronounced, natural drape of the fabrics.

FW24

The fifth collection, I believe, is the exact moment A.Presse made it. Zero commentary here — just awe. Even the pants pulled too high in the third photograph are outweighed by the overall attitude. It’s what Marty Supreme might have looked like if he was cool.

SS25

By this point, I’m speechless. Notice how the same signature notes from the very first season — frivolous collars, unbuttoned shirts, tucked sweaters, and high-waisted pants — still work flawlessly.

FW25

I don’t mind leaning a little to the left these days. The pants are looser, the keys are chained, and the overall attitude — Fight Club-era Brad Pitt.

SS26

The latest season builds right on top of the last. It’s hard to climb higher when you’re already at the peak.

If you made it this far, I’m genuinely interested in your take on A.Presse’s style. My point here is only that — style. Whether or not it justifies the price is for everyone to decide for themselves. Personally, just like with visvim, I like the idea of A.Presse but don’t feel the nudge (or have the funds) to actually buy it. I’m excited to see what’s next for the brand, especially when the winds of fashion and media inevitably shift. A.Presse has everything it needs to become a cult brand, so let’s see where it goes from here.

Small ask: Please, share this article with your friends, colleagues, subreddits, group chats, and followers. Writing this takes time, and now I need you to help others discover it too. Thank you!

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One of the exciting things about getting a new pair of raw denim is deciding how you'll wear them and what you want them to become. Want high-contrast fades in the lap, under the knees, and on pockets from your signature belongings? That means washing your jeans rarely — preferably by hand — which often comes at the cost of fabric blowouts and yellower or even brownish indigo shades from accumulated dirt. Want a vintage, washed-out look? Use a washing machine regularly.

Over the last 15 years, I've tried different combinations of both approaches. Currently, I'm in my vintage wash phase — and yes, 15 years later, I'm still excited about how denim fades. But what I learned from regularly machine-washing two identical pairs of jeans is that frequency matters, if only marginally. At 15 wears per wash, the honeycomb pattern under the knees is barely visible. Washing every six wears erases honeycombs entirely but brings a cleaner indigo shade and higher-contrast fades along seams. With my 3sixteen RS-100x pair, I was aiming for a vintage wash look with pronounced honeycombs.

With a clear goal in mind, I created a plan:

• Purchase a pair in a bigger size to account for future shrinking — done.

• Wear it briefly so wear patterns outline on the fabric — done.

• Take a warm bath wearing the jeans so they mold to my body — done.

• Defer the first proper machine wash to let honeycombs set in. Honeycombs are the hardest fade pattern to achieve, especially in looser-fitting jeans. If you nail honeycombs, the rest comes by default — I’m here now.

• Once honeycombs set, machine wash regularly — as often as once every five wears — to keep the indigo crisp and clean, hoping to achieve the coveted vintage, washed-out look before the fabric deteriorates or the fit shrinks too much.

Following this plan, I wore the jeans 10 times before taking a warm bath in them. Then, at 15 more wears, I noticed the thick feeling in the fabric under the knees was gone — the originally soft, sanforized denim had softened even more. The wear patterns had already set in, though no fading had begun. My expectation at that point was that brighter indigo shades would slowly reveal themselves on the creases and edges over the next 25 wears.

I took photos of the pair right before the first machine wash, at the 55-wear mark:

There are no fades yet, but indigo shades have already started to reveal themselves. The color is no longer uniform as it was at the 25-wear mark. Some areas are bluer than others. Dark purple hues shimmer with electric blue notes. It's most clearly visible on the edges and in areas where the material wrinkles — barely noticeable from a distance, but the inevitable fading process has begun.

Here's the funny thing: when you pull jeans out of the washing machine, you have to wait for them to dry before you see what actually happened to them. The first machine wash is especially revealing since it breaks the original dark indigo shade:

Although I've done this before, the impact of the first machine wash still amazes me. The color shift is pretty vivid. Nothing dramatic yet, but some fades are already there, just after one wash. Look at the whiskers and the fly. Look at the fringing where I cuffed the legs. The overall color changed significantly too — it's clearly blue now.

As much as I’ve enjoyed the progress so far, one thing didn’t go according to plan: honeycombs. Where are they? The wrinkling pattern is barely visible. I knew honeycombs are hard to achieve, and I’d hoped delaying the first wash would help. But 55 wears weren’t enough. So I had to break my initial plan and defer the second wash as well.

I washed the pair a second time recently, at the 102-wear mark. I still need to take photos and will post them in a separate article.

Before wrapping up, I want to share the measurements from before and after the first machine wash. 3sixteen’s 100x denim is sanforized, meaning the fabric went through an industrial pre-shrinking process. Yet from my experience with other brands, including Rogue Territory, Left Field, and Levi’s Vintage Clothing, even sanforized denim continues to shrink gradually over time. That’s why I deliberately bought this pair in a bigger size to compensate for future shrinking.

The initial bath soak revealed up to 2.5% shrinkage in some measurements. I was curious what the first machine wash would bring. Here are the measurements taken before and after, following the official 3sixteen measuring guide:

• Waist: 44.5 cm (17.5 in) / 44.5 cm (17.5 in)

• Front Rise: 33.5 cm (13.2 in) / 33.5 cm (13.2 in)

• Back Rise: 43.5 cm (17.1 in) / 43.5 (17.1 in)

• Inseam: 88 cm (34.65 in) / 88 cm (34.65 in)

• Leg Opening: 24 cm (9.45 in) / 24 cm (9.45 in)

Maybe I screwed up some measurements, but surprisingly, the pair didn’t shrink at all — which contradicts my previous experience. But I’m not complaining, since I like the current fit and don’t want the pair to become slimmer or shorter over time.

That’s it for the 55-wear progress update on the 3sixteen RS-100x jeans. As I mentioned, I’ve already worn the pair 50 more days, so the next update might come sooner than this one. Either way, we’re in this for the long run.

What’s your latest pair of jeans and how is the progress? Do people buy raw denim at all nowadays? Trends definitely favor pre-distressed jeans but I don’t want to give in. There is something about completing the journey of fading yourself without taking shortcuts. The pursuit of true luxury.

Anyway, thank you for reading till the end! If you have any questions or comments about the 3sixteen jeans or denim in general, please, join the conversation in the comments section on Substack.

Lastly, I do my best to document how quality things age. But I really need your help to help others discover it too. I would greatly appreciate it if you could share this article with your friends and those who might dig it — on Reddits, socials, group chats, and forums. Hitting a ❤️ and restacking it on Substack is huge help and motivation, too!

Listen on SoundCloud

soundcloud.com/vacations_on/sets/dec-25

Listen on Spotify (29 out of 39 tracks available)

open.spotify.com/playlist/1ReNfGvjSnvp0IyNABEeNz

What’s been driving you lately? Share your favorites in the comments, I would be super excited to learn new names and include them in the future playlists.

With all respect to brands blessing me with their products, the fact that I could dedicate less time to writing meant I wasn’t able to write about other clothing-related topics on my mind. Believe it or not, they keep taking up space in my head, and I desperately want to let them out through some Random Observations. I’ve started posting short thoughts somewhat frequently on Substack Notes, hoping I can turn them into full articles one day, but it’s not the same. I miss writing about subjects that keep my head busy. I even turned down a few offers from brands to free up some time. I hope they can relate.

I would love to tell you that having too many clothes already and receiving products on top of it for free means you don’t buy more pieces, but that’s not true. Shoot, that sounds like I’m bragging. But it’s just what happens when you’re obsessed with this niche menswear world no one really cares about for too long. I believe I purchased fewer things this year. But the fact that I have no idea how to count them makes me think there still were too many. Worst part? My work-from-home routine doesn’t even require much clothing. I wear my worn-out cords from Barena, merch-quality t-shirts, and my good-old Camber hoodie every single weekday. I know some people get dressed at home. But I see no point whatsoever in getting dressed to spend the whole day at my desk before moving to the horizontal position on a couch.

Some of my favorite purchases this year is a beautiful striped shirt from Speciale. I wore it to a few dates with my wife, to my buddy’s birthday, and to the theatre one or two times. I bought a few other shirts, five of them with button-down collars, three of which in madras fabric. I found a coveted voluminous raincoat that gives zero protection against rain. I started wearing a few pieces that I purchased the year before but hadn’t tried before. Some of the dumbest purchases include the Drake’s madras blazer scored at half-price and the exact same jacket that I’ve already had for six years, found in like-new condition and a larger size. I love both garments, but it’s hard to justify them. I wish I could share the stories behind all of these purchases with you one day.

Curiously, despite being updated less frequently, the newsletter has grown twice in the number of subscribers. Not sure if these are real readers, or if Substack has just reached the scale that’s worth populating with bots. But if you are a real one, welcome, and thank you for reading! If you have any feedback on how I should improve this newsletter, please, please, please share in the comments. I constantly try to reach out to folks that unsubscribe, but very few respond.

Wrapping up the year, I want to say a huge thank you to all of you who open these emails, read the articles, write comments, hit likes, and share. This newsletter is small, but it’s a genuine passion of mine, and all these little signals mean the world to me. Also, shoutout to my wife if you read this: we spent more Sunday nights together than the year before, and I couldn’t be happier about it.

Next year — best year. Much love ❤️

Below you can find some of my favorite articles from this year.

Listen on SoundCloud

soundcloud.com/vacations_on/sets/nov-25

Listen on Spotify (16 out of 27 tracks available)

open.spotify.com/playlist/6QxDPU8SLNygtF55AwNaIW

What’s been driving you lately? Share your favorites in the comments, I would be super excited to learn new names and include them in the future playlists.

When you live far from big fashion capitals, you don’t have much choice of brick-and-mortar stores. Your best option beyond mall brands is casual streetwear. Alternatively, you go to those one or two stores in your town that curate their selection with some independent makers and a usually spoken in a hushed, mysterious voice. There is nothing wrong with either. But if you seek something unique, you go online. And when you go online, there are no limits. You find a brand, learn about it, check its stockists, find another store, read an interview with its owners, discover more brands, and so on. All of a sudden, you build this whole hierarchy of what’s entry-level, what’s niche enough, who’s a sell-out, and what you definitely need to order one day.

Coming back to reality from the imaginary online world can be hard. You don’t want a store associate to tell you about this Japanese brand that gets its sneakers manufactured in Slovakia after military trainers of European troops. Prices are higher, and no one welcomes you with a promo code for 15% off. It feels awkward to go through rails of products without the intention to purchase. And soon you realize that 45 out of those 50 stores you saved on Google Maps don’t bring anything new to the table.

Of course, it’s not all that gloomy. Some of the best stores I know — Delphes, Store Du Nord, mutate — are brick-and-mortar with little presence online. Moreover, I tend to buy things offline that I wouldn’t even notice online. I never forget a jacket from Folk that looked too contemporary for my taste, but once I put it on, it fit me too well to miss out. The store associate then spilled a cup of water on the jacket to reveal it was water repellent, too. Clearly, I was sold.

When shopping in a big city, you start caring less about exclusivity, because few things are really exclusive. In London, a random person next to me on a train was wearing Needles H.D BDU Pants, ASICS x Kiko Kostadinov sneakers, and a Klattermusen backpack while checking the latest meme from Nolita Dirtbag on IG. Last weekend, I visited an upscale department store and stumbled upon the latest Barbour x Levi’s collaboration next to a Topman section. Some of the brands you could only access online are being sold on the ground floor of an anti-fashion middle-class household retailer. The supply is abundant. I’m not surprised there are so many great charity shops and curated vintage stores in big cities: people are constantly buying new garms and getting rid of the old stuff. You don’t have to dig for brands; there’s almost a steady supply.

The easy access allows for hunting less for “that new new” and “v rare”, and pay more attention to tactile qualities and fits. In the next room to the Barbour x Levi’s collaboration, I found a long rail of Kapital. And no, it wasn’t occupied by a queue of hypebeasts or gatekept by a floor associate “in the know”. No, in a big department store, nobody really cares about you unless you ask for help. So, you’re left alone to explore the pieces just like you would do online. Only now, you don’t filter by brand as much; instead, you try things on to see how they fit, explore details, and experience fabrics firsthand. Because no “heavyweight” in the description of a Camber hoodie online will give you the feeling of diving into a thick, heavy, squarish abyss only to emerge as a reformed person in a solid, warm, and comfy armor.

I’m sorry, there is no conclusion to this. But having lived in different places, I know how things might look from afar, especially when presented in a carousel of perfectly flashed film photographs “with the boys”. The truth is, you hardly find anything more exclusive than what you have online. The somewhat controversial truth is, you hardly need anything more exclusive than what fits you well when shopping in person.

Small ask: Writing this takes time, and now, I need you to help others discover it too. Please, share this article with your friends, colleagues, subreddits, group chats, and followers. Hitting a ❤️ and restacking it on Substack is huge help and motivation as well!

Listen on SoundCloud

soundcloud.com/vacations_on/sets/oct-25

Listen on Spotify (17 out of 22 tracks available)

open.spotify.com/playlist/6RHWRVk3Tda0hYFDE2iJzU

What’s been driving you lately? Share your favorites in the comments, I would be super excited to learn new names and include them in the future playlists.

I recently visited Store Du Nord, where (the owner) told me he only washes his cotton stuff by hand or in cold water. According to him, machine wash at 30°C is already too hot. Maybe he’s right. Or maybe my constant shrinkage woes have to do with my own body changes — but I reassure myself that’s not the case. At some point, I just started sizing up in most of the pieces I buy, even offline. At worst, I end up with an oversized garment. If Ralph Lauren taught us anything in the ‘90s, that can be a blessing.

It’s now such a running joke that every time I meet my two best buddies, they ask if a certain garment of mine has already shrunk. Sharks. They’re about a half size smaller than me up top. So, I’ve let too many great pieces go for just a couple of pints. Lucky bastards.

You can probably guess what happened to the beautiful made-in-England chambray button-down from Allevol that Clutch Cafe sent my way. I had one in the past, a different brand, and it had been the most versatile shirt in my wardrobe — until I wore through the elbows and eventually, outgrew it entirely. I’d been searching for a worthy replacement ever since. Allevol just happened to make an elevated version of that.

If you haven’t heard of Allevol, it’s Clutch Cafe’s in-house label, founded by Taka Okabe before he opened the London store. I’ve previously reviewed their Heavy Duty long-sleeve tee — and it’s the epitome of the heavy duty, a Japanese outdoor interpretation of Ivy style. In fact, Allevol named this button-down shirt a “Work Shirt”, suggesting you wear it during extra-curricular activities or when venturing outside the campus. Well, in my case, it translates into wearing the shirt casually around my “home office”.

In essence, it’s a classic 6-button front button-down shirt. Curiously, the distance between the buttons is slightly longer than usual, which matters more than you’d think. If you’ve tried shirts from the Kamakura’s Vintage Ivy line — a Japanese brand that is famous for recreating OCBDs (oxford cloth button-down shirts) from the golden era of American Ivy — you might have noticed the lowest button is located quite far away from the bottom edge of the shirt. When wearing it tucked, you end up with an awkward gap between the two sides of the shirt. Allevol solves this problem with increased spacing between buttons (but not too large!), so that the bottom button is located low enough to prevent that. Small detail, big impact.

The collar roll on this shirt is fantastic. Yes, there is such thing that Ivy enthusiasts obsess over. Basically, it’s the curve that forms when tips are buttoned down. In mass market shirts, collars are short, so they just lie there flat and lifeless. About a century ago though, collars used to have points so long they’d smack you in the face with the wind, until polo players started buttoning them down. Brooks Brothers picked up the idea and made it an American icon. (For all the nerdy historical — and immensely important — details, I highly recommend checking out Derek Guy’s OCBD shirt series.)

So, yeah, the Allevol shirt features a beautifully curved collar. Other details include side gussets at the hem, a rounded chest pocket that’s actually big enough for a passport, and a box pleat at the back. Not that all these little details really matter on their own. But combined, they create that coveted Ivy look, which I personally admire for its sophisticated nonchalance.

But my favorite feature of this shirt is its beautiful cotton chambray fabric. Although not as vivid as in real life, you can still see the cloth’s subtle sheen even in photos. The plain weave, with blue warp and natural weft, gives the color a marvelous uneven richness, and the texture is reminiscent of denim, only lighter. New, it shimmers with a close-to-electric blue. And as you wear it in, I can already see the exciting fading potential.

Now, because I apparently can’t have a straightforward shirt story, let’s get back to shrinkage. Here’s what happened to the size XL before and after one wash (machine, 30°C):

• Pit-to-pit: 58 cm / 57.5 cm

• Shoulder width: 49 cm / 48 cm

• Sleeve length: 64 cm / 63 cm

• Armhole: 26 cm / 26 cm

• Length from armpit to gusset: 33 cm / 31.5 cm

• Collar point: 8 cm / 8 cm

I’m sorry I messed up the full body length measurements. But trust me, it stayed long enough after the wash. The shrinkage was minimal, technically. But when you lose a centimeter from the shoulders and another from the sleeves, you’re on the edge of what fits, and the sleeves now feel just a touch short (hence the rolled up sleeves in the photograph above!).

Maybe the root cause isn’t shrinkage — though I suspect the fabric has a bit more shrinking left in it after a few more washes — but sizing. The Clutch Cafe size chart says XXL is only 0.5 cm bigger in the shoulders and sleeves than XL. By no means am I a specialist in shirt measurements, but relative to my other garments, I’d say that this Allevol shirt runs pretty small. Which is the opposite from the brand’s tee I reviewed.

Honestly, it’s a bummer. I genuinely loved the shirt for its Ivy look and beautiful fabric — it might be one of the most versatile shirt styles one can own. I will reach out to Clutch Cafe to see if there’s been a mistake in the sizing chart on their website, praying that XXL can fit me. There are just a handful left, so if you can make the sizing work, seriously go for it — even at the full price of £178. Meanwhile, I’ll have to dull the sorrow with a couple of pints, courtesy of a lucky buddy of mine.

Thank you for reading until the end, means a lot to me. If you have any questions or just want to prove me wrong on shrinkage, feel free to reach out in the comments section.

Small ask: Writing this takes time, and now, I need you to help others discover it too. Please, share this article with your friends, colleagues, subreddits, group chats, and followers. Hitting a ❤️ and restacking it on Substack is huge help and motivation as well!

Listen on SoundCloud

soundcloud.com/vacations_on/sets/sep-25

Listen on Spotify (19 out of 32 tracks available)

open.spotify.com/playlist/24uDzJNhryuYUZjIC7yjDo

What’s been driving you lately? Share your favorites in the comments, I would be super excited to learn new names and include them in the next playlists.

Haven — along with stores like Oi Polloi, Need Supply, Très Bien, and Hickoree’s — was one of the mainstays of menswear when I first got into clothing about fifteen years ago. It’s funny to think about it now, considering how tiny the market was compared to what it is today. We can thank or blame social media for spreading the knowledge, but it’s the niche brands and the stores that curated them who were the source of this knowledge.

Haven has come a long way from its humble beginnings in Edmonton, Canada, in 2006. My personal favorite part of their journey was Intelligence Magazine, a printed publication which gave a rare insight into the stories behind cult Japanese brands that mostly kept quiet, including Wacko Maria, Sasquatchfabrix., Wolf’s Head, Cav Empt, and others. Unlike traditional print, Intelligence Magazine focused on interviews and deep features with little to no ads in between.

In 2017, Haven launched the eponymous collection to diversify the store in the commodified market and compete with the growing trend of brands selling directly to consumers. With a decade of experience working with some of the best brands in the world, the team had accumulated knowledge of what quality means and contacts with factories in Japan and Canada that could deliver it. By now, the in-house line is the best-selling brand in the store.

This year, Haven hosted its first showroom at Paris Fashion Week to introduce their own line to other retailers. With coveted collaborations — including Nanga, Asics, Needles, Clarks, and Tarvas — and access to top technical materials, such as Gore-Tex Pro and Loro Piana Storm System, Haven is far from a mere in-house line of a multi-brand retailer. It’s serious gear that’s ready to withstand harsh weather conditions in the refined, understated style that has become the signature of Haven.

You see? It’s as if I’ve had a long relationship with the store and have seen what has happened in its life over all these years. Which is obviously not true. It’s just one of those internet things. You follow someone for long periods of time and it makes you feel like you know them, as if you might even be friends. But in fact, they don’t know you exist.

Well, until recently, when Daniel Chmielewski hit me up with three Haven t-shirts for review along with a handwritten note. So, here we go.

Currently, the Haven collection features four kinds of t-shirts:

• the Standard, made in Canada from Supima cotton and sold in a two-pack for $120;

• the Excel, made in Japan from Siro-spun cotton, $105;

• the Prime, made in Japan from Suvin cotton, $120;

• the Stratus, made in Japan from superfine wool, $150.

Yes, $105-150 for a t-shirt is expensive. But in case of Japan-made tees, it’s also somewhat expected. Hopefully, this article can explain why.

TL;DR First impressions after a few weeks: the Excel is your daily driver, the Prime feels almost too soft to be true, and the Stratus challenges everything you think you know about wool (unless you’re into active wear already).

Materials

Although the Excel, Prime, and Stratus vary slightly in fit and details, the main difference is, of course, in materials.

The Excel is the workhorse of the three, meaning that it feels the most dense and hard-wearing. I had never heard of Siro-spun cotton before, but apparently it’s an alternative way to spin yarns by spinning two strands of fiber simultaneously, rather than twisting together pre-spun single strands. This results in stronger, yet smoother, fabric than traditional cotton. It’s both substantial and soft. We’ll see how it ages, but it might be a strong candidate for the heavy category according to my t-shirt review series.

Next comes the Prime. Boy, does the name do it justice! This is by far the softest t-shirt I’ve ever had. It’s made of Suvin cotton, a rare variety renowned for its exceptionally long fibers and silky sheen. Fabric made from Suvin cotton is incredibly soft, yet should be very strong and resistant to pilling. Too bad I’ve already stained it with tomato sauce, but I’m hoping for the best (also, the pasta was worth it).

Finally, the Stratus. It’s my first garment where wool is not used for the purpose of keeping me warm. Sure, I’ve read online how superfine wool is nature’s finest performance fabric, but I don’t do any running (except for a 3rd-wave coffee, of course), so I haven’t had a chance to experience it before. Superfine wool is made of fibers that are so thin that the resulting fabric is soft, smooth, and non-itchy. But the natural properties of wool are still there. In theory, it adapts to the body’s temperature, helping to keep you cool in summer and warm in winter. I wore the t-shirt for four or five days in high summer and didn’t feel as hot as I would in a heavy cotton t-shirt. It also sticks less to the body when sweating, while being resistant to odor for a surprisingly long time. Lastly, it doesn’t really wrinkle and drapes beautifully.

All three fabrics have minor, hardly visible fuzziness to their surfaces, with the Excel being the smoothest and the Stratus being the furriest. We’ll see if the fuzziness will grow over time.

Small ask: Writing this takes time, and now, I need you to help others discover it too. Please, share this article with your friends, colleagues, subreddits, group chats, and followers. Thank you!

Fit

All three t-shirts came in size 4, and unlike most Japan-made garments, this is a true XL. Surprisingly, they all fit a bit differently. The Excel features the most generous fit of the three, being longer and boxier, while the Prime and Stratus come in a classic fit. Technically, the Stratus is a bit larger than the Prime, but due to the drape of superfine wool, it fits quite similarly. It’s kind of hard to explain fits in text, but most people would consider the Excel to be slightly oversized, while the Prime and Stratus come in a generous classic fit.

I made a few mirror selfies, but I should give a shoutout to Haven for taking proper studio photos and even a short video for each of the t-shirts.

Since fit varies between the three, I measured each garment before and after the first wash to give you the full picture (machine wash at 30°C).

The Excel (0.8% shrinkage):

• Pit-to-pit: 64.5 cm (25.4 in) / 64.5 cm (25.4 in)

• Shoulder width: 52 cm (20.5 in) / 51.5 cm (20.3 in)

• Sleeve length: 25 cm (9.8 in) / 25 cm (9.8 in)

• Sleeve opening: 22 cm (8.7 in) / 21.5 cm (8.5 in)

• Body length: 77.5 cm (30.5 in) / 77 cm (30.3 in)

The Prime (2.2% shrinkage):

• Pit-to-pit: 63 cm (24.8 in) / 62 cm (24.4 in)

• Shoulder width: 52 cm (20.5 in) / 52.5 cm (20.7 in)

• Sleeve length: 23 cm (9.1 in) / 21.5 cm (8.5 in)

• Sleeve opening: 21.5 cm (8.5 in) / 22 cm (8.7 in)

• Body length: 72.5 cm (28.5 in) / 68.5 cm (27 in)

The Stratus (2.4% shrinkage):

• Pit-to-pit: 63 cm (24.8 in) / 61 cm (24 in)

• Shoulder width: 51 cm (20.1 in) / 48.5 cm (19.1 in)

• Sleeve length: 24 cm (9.5 in) / 23.5 cm (9.3 in)

• Sleeve opening: 20 cm (7.9 in) / 20 cm (7.9 in)

• Body length: 74.5 cm (29.3 in) / 73.5 cm (28.9 in)

Construction and Details

Perhaps the most unusual construction detail about the Haven t-shirts is the underarm gussets. Technically, they should provide the wearer with more freedom of movement and ventilation. Not that I’ve experienced any limitations with my other t-shirts, but the armholes of Haven tees are significantly wider. I was slightly concerned that these gussets would make the t-shirts appear more technical — which I believe is part of the Haven look — but I don’t think it’s visually noticeable at all.

All three t-shirts have neck openings on the wider side without being too wide. Collar ribs vary slightly, with the Prime having the narrowest and the least stretchy.

The Excel t-shirt also features split hems:

The overlock stitching is fine, although there are stray fibers escaping the bounds here and there.

Verdict

Haven t-shirts are expensive. But that’s how much made-in-Japan tees cost these days. You can find some that are cheaper, especially in two-packs from some of the Japanese heritage brands. A lot of them are even more expensive though, especially when you step into the more fashion-forward designer brands’ territory.

Although Haven compares their t-shirts based on how they fit, I believe it’s the fabrics that shine the most and should guide the decision. From the first impression, it feels like the Excel is the most practical, utilitarian of the three, while still appearing a lot softer and smoother than your average tee. I’m betting it will develop beautiful character over time.

But it’s really the Prime and the Stratus that feel unique, unlike any other t-shirts I’ve ever worn. Both almost feel too luxurious to wear. Yet, the brand describes them as highly functional too. I’ll report back in a few years haha!

Thank you for reading until the end, it means a lot to me. If you have any questions, please, let me know in the comments section.

You can also find how t-shirts from different brands, including Our Legacy, Arpenteur, JJJJound, and All Blues Co. Pocket Tee, age in my t-shirt series.

And if you enjoyed this article, please share it with people who might dig it too. Hitting a ❤️ and restacking it on Substack is huge help and motivation as well!