If not for the music (thank you, Joey Lawrence) then for the super rad duds. At this time, I was still being dressed by my mother. She was so forward thinking. The girls wore stirrups and crewneck sweatshirts over turtlenecks, or corduroy and denim onsies with elaborate hair ties and jelly sandals, while the guys (*gasp!*) wore patterns, and color. None of this monochromatic jabberwocky. None of this "I like color, I do, but I only wear black, grey, navy and white."
I love you, but you know who you are.
A group of individuals from New York City have recognized that although the flash, clash and tack from the 90's have made a comeback with the ladies [*in saying that, and I must be clear, I am in no way condoning neon bandeau bras, lycra lame, or anything of the like], the same sadly cannot be said for the men…boys…dudes?
On a recent trip to NYC, I stumbled across a group of guys sitting at a collapsible table on Canal Street selling the brightest, boldest, "raddest" men's-only gear I ever did see. We followed the gaggle of boys-in-windbreakers up to the forth floor, taking an elevator that whispered "sudden death" with every jerky lift. Upstairs, it was like walking into a set sale from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. The stock, which included patch denim, graphic t-shirts, Jeremy Scott-esque cardigans (acceptable ones) and water-resistent half-zips, was vivid, and well organized. Color print paper lined the walls, and was held up by hundreds of strategically placed pin tacks. The music was loud. Well, loud enough.
And the designers? They weren't too bad either. (Hi Nick!)
Although you can't pick it up anywhere in
No comments:
Post a Comment