Rummaging through a thrift store is not only a great way to score a deal, it can also be a way to find things you may not be able to get elsewhere – maybe a vintage tie made from hand block-printed silk, or a leather jacket that’s been perfectly beaten-up over the years. Unfortunately, thrifting takes time and effort, which means you have to love the process as much as the goods. These days, I’ll occasionally make it out to a flea market, but I rarely have time to actually dig through the dusty bins at Goodwill. 

I do my vintage shopping online, and often on Etsy. More than just a hub for DIY crafters, Etsy has become a marketplace for inveterate thrifters to showcase their finds to a wider audience (one of my favorite vintage shops, Wooden Sleepers, started on Etsy before opening up the brick-and-mortar you see above). I usually search for things such as French chore coats or the now-defunct Ralph Lauren Country label, but when you narrow in on a search term, you miss out on what could have otherwise been a serendipitous discovery – which is the real joy of vintage shopping. 

So, it helps to know some good stores. Here are twenty-one of what I think are the best for vintage Americana, workwear, and militaria, as well as a bit of Native American jewelry and home furnishings. Most stores these days only have a few good things buried underneath a heap of thrift store dregs, but these places have a higher hit ratio than most. I think they’re worth bookmarking. 

Keep reading

Men’s style in general, and tailored clothing in particular, can be very serious at times. Most of our clothes are inspired by hunting and war, and made in colors such as drab olive, stone gray, and stark white. Fashion historians trace this back to what they call The Great Masculine Renunciation, when men around the world – from the French court to Chinese nobles – traded in their colorful, sumptuous garb for the kind of austere, somber clothes British aristocrats favored. 

Rumisu, an accessories company based in Istanbul, is the antidote to this seriousness. They’re a young brand, having started in the summer of 2013, but they’ve already made big waves. They’ve been picked up by leading boutiques such as The Armoury, shown up on Ozwald Boatang’s runway, and received favorable write-ups in Monocle and L’Uomo Vogue. Much of that is because of how they’ve transformed luxury scarves and pocket squares – which are traditionally more conservative items – into playful, at times even goofy, accessories. Their designs invite you into a dreamed-up world of creativity, have a child-like wholesomeness, and are built around themes that are both inspiring and relatable. I find they’re a good reminder that, even when things aren’t going that well, it helps to have a sense of humor. 

The company is run by a trio: Deniz and Pinar, who are sisters, and Deniz’s husband Emir. Deniz and Pinar grew up together in Turkey, but have dramatically different backgrounds. Deniz studied fashion in NYC, and then returned home to Turkey to be a designer for an upscale clothing boutique, helping them produce their in-house line. Pinar, meanwhile, studied economics at Harvard and then earned an MBA at Wharton. Later in life, when she decided to do something more creative, she co-founded Rumisu with her sister and brother-in-law. “She’s become the total bohemian in the family,” Deniz says affectionately. “Early in our collections, we had a print titled ‘Come Out of Your Closet,’ which was inspired by Pinar coming out as a more artistic person when everyone expected something different from her.” 

Keep reading

 

The problem with buying nice things is never the cost of the items themselves, but the costs that can come after. Anthropologists call this the Diderot Effect, which is named after 18th century French philosopher Denis Diderot, who penned the essay “Regrets on Parting with My Old Dressing Gown.”

In it, Diderot rues throwing away his old gown after receiving a beautiful scarlet one from a friend. While initially delighted with the gift, his pleasure turned sour when he realized that nothing in his home properly reflected his new garment’s elegance. His tapestries were too shabby; his chairs creaky. So, one by one, he replaced his familiar, but well-worn furnishings with things that were fancier. He replaced his straw chairs with an armchair covered in fine Moroccan leather; his old desk with an expensive writing table; and his previously beloved prints with pricier paintings. 

In the end, Diderot found himself in debt and not even that comfortable in his new surroundings, as he realized his old possessions were just as good, if not better. “Why didn’t I keep my old dressing gown,” he lamented. “It molded all the folds of my body without inhibiting it; I was picturesque and handsome. The other one is stiff, and starchy, makes me look stodgy. There was no need to which its kindness didn’t loan itself, for indigence is almost always officious. If a book was covered in dust, one of its panels was there to wipe it off. If thickened ink refused to flow in my quill, it presented its flank. Traced in long black lines, one could see the services it had rendered me. These long lines announce the litterateur, the writer, the man who works. I now have the air of a rich good for nothing. No one knows who I am.”

Keep reading

 

As the world gets smaller, so do our possessions. What may have been that stack of books and papers you’d schlep twenty years ago is now just a few PDF files. The daily newspaper is now online. And your iPod, which used to be a technological wonder that fit your entire music library into the palm of your hand, has disappeared into your phone. My daily carry nowadays is usually not more than my laptop and its accompanying charger – and all that neatly fits into a portfolio, which I think of as a modern briefcase. 

Folios are surprisingly uncommon here in the US, but they’re tremendously useful. For one, they’re easier to manage than a traditional briefcase. If you’re running through the city, climbing in and out of cabs, it’s easier to reach into your belongings when you don’t have to fumble through a bunch of clasps or buckles. Plus, unlike a backpack, a folio doesn’t have any straps that could ruin a tailored jacket’s shoulder line. 

The downside, of course, is that they don’t carry very much (by design). But who carries more than a couple of electronics nowadays? Lunch gets eaten on the go and I’m not health-conscious enough to carry a water bottle. Plus, leather bags are heavy, which means I only break them out when I need to. Take it from the Japanese, who are often photographed with a folio under their arm. If you’re walking around the city all day, you’d be happy to not have to carry around five pounds of luggage. 

Keep reading

 

In 1936, the editors of Apparel Arts published “Permanent Modern,” a fourteen-page article introducing their vision for the ideal menswear store. The article spares little in details. Included are elaborate floor plans and descriptions of the materials that should be used for the architecture, fixtures, and display cases. According to the editors, things should look modern, but not “voguish modern,” as you want to catch the customer’s eye, yet also make the place feel inviting. They even specified the lighting and air conditioning systems (two whole pages were dedicated to that). Should the reader want to implement their vision, they included a directory for the contractors, suppliers, and equipment manufacturers who could help with the store’s construction.

The store they imagined was grand – something like a Saks Fifth Avenue, but solely dedicated to men. There were five retail floors, each dedicated to a certain class of items. On the first floor, you had accessories and footwear. Moving up, there were sport, prep, and university clothes; then high-end tailoring; and finally moderately priced attire and boy’s clothing. The basement floor was to be a club lounge with fruitwood furniture and a fully stocked bar. And at the top-most floor, there would be a penthouse restaurant with an open-air dining terrace. Apparel Arts’ editors imagined that the terrace could be converted into a skating rink in the wintertime, which could also double as a stage for showing clothes on live models. 

 

Keep reading

It’s hard for me to imagine going without a pair of sneakers this time of year. Summer is about having the windows down and volume up, biking somewhere on a hot afternoon, and hanging your feet off a picnic bench while BBQ-ing with friends. Camp moccasins and penny loafers can be great for these sorts of things, but I also like having a pair of casual sneakers you can wear with jeans and camp collar shirts. 

I’ve cycled through a bunch over the years, but find I keep returning to the same ones (although, the first pair below were recently acquired). If you’re looking to get a pair this summer, here are some of my favorites. Since they’re mostly designer shoes based off classic silhouettes, I’ve included links to the originals, which are much more affordable. As sneakers go, the build quality between the low and high end of the spectrum is smaller than it is in dress shoes – almost everything is in design. I like the uniqueness of these versions, but their designers found the originals to be inspiring for a reason. 

Visvim Bamboo Skagways

Keep reading

Well, this is a surprise. The summer tweed I ran last year made it onto The Sartorialist, the first men’s style blog I ever followed. Pictured above is Kenji of Bryceland’s wearing the fabric in a handsome double-breasted. Bryceland’s, by the way, recently expanded into Hong Kong, which has made it possible for them to fulfill online orders. That means they now have a functioning webshop for those located outside of East Asia. 

Many thanks to everyone who supported that cloth run, by the way. It was genuinely fun to organize. Below are photos I’ve found around the web of people wearing the cloth – Max from the Armoury, Pete in San Francisco, Sartoria Formosa’s bespoke tailor Dionisio, Mitchell at Menswear Musings, and Andy from San Jose. 

No Man Walks Alone, a sponsor on this site, still has a few ready-to-wear sport coats made from the fabric. You can knock 10% off the listed price with the checkout code DWW10. It’s a wonderful cloth, I think, if you love the texture of tweed, but want something that’s light and breathable enough for summer. More details of the cloth can be found in this old post. I’m also planning to organize more custom cloth runs in the future, although I can’t imagine another one being featured at The Sartorialist. 

Keep reading