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Intro

It feels like everyone is going through a bit of a transition right now.

And speaking of transitions (beautiful segue) we’re now, whether you like it or not, moving into fall, and there have been some excellent deliveries across the board. Maiden’s Shop, Coverchord, Dimple, Neighbour, Ven Space, all the spots that makes your body tingle a little bit. You know what I’m talking about, freako.

I’m seeing beautiful stuff from Gabriela Coll Garments, Unkruid, Sono, the heavy hitters we’ve mentioned for a minute now. But, and I’m only going to say this once, I do feel like this is the last season you’re going to be able to obtain Gabriela Coll Garments successfully without having to wait in line with hundreds of others. Her works continues to evolve and I’m hearing plenty of chatter about how this is the collection for the fall. Well, that and Toward(s).

If you’re not on the Toward(s) train yet, then I can’t help you brother.

Before we dive into things, I’ve noticed that some of these recommendation posts from top dog creators aren’t real. They give dead internet theory, and if you don’t know what that is, well, I envy you.

Sometimes it’s less that “I picked this because I genuinely like it” and more “I’m getting paid a bag to put this here.” I’ve seen recommendation lists where half the shit was gifted to the person recommending it, and they’re now saying how you should pick this up because they love it, when really they were given a lump sum of cash to push whatever it is.

For transparency’s sake, everything here is something I would personally consider buying, or something I’ve found genuinely interesting and could consider looking into further.

Read more

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I’m now unemployed.

After seven or so years, maybe six and two quarters, I was let go from the company that I’d seen grow from a handful of employees (I believe I was employee 14?) into an actual full-fledged company. Since getting canned, I’ve kind of taken some time to reflect on my overall place in the world. As silly as that sounds, with all this free time you naturally start wondering, “Okay, what am I going to do now?”

Aside from watching various Pokémon card opening videos (I don’t even collect the card, which makes me wonder why am I watching this), I’ve been thinking a lot about my place within the fashion space, sphere, realm, whichever term you prefer, really. One of the main things that keeps coming to mind is, “what am I actually doing with the messages I’m trying to share in each post?”

I’ve shared how existentialism, the meaning of time, about being inspired by our communities, by family, by traditions from different countries, and all of these beautiful ideas, have inspired various designers and collections I’ve talked to. So, eventually, with references like this in mind, it’s hard not to think about the same when writing these posts. These conversations rub off on you and, truthfully, that’s when I believe you’re doing something meaningful.

My partner and I recently went to the Vancouver Art Gallery, more commonly known as the VAG, and saw a three-screen video installation about climate change and mass consumption. Seeing our waters continue to heat up, mass hunting of whales, and destruction of habitats across the world. From my interpretation, it examined our past, present, and future.

Expectedly, it was a tough pill to swallow.

Since then, and again this could purely be tied to suddenly having all this free time, I’ve found myself following far more climate-related news. Reading about how the Arctic is warming up about four times faster than the rest of the world, seeing revised projections showing global temperatures rising by .35°C instead of the expected .2°C

The more I read, the more this feeling of hopelessness and dread has started creeping in. It’s the main reason I’ve taken the last week or so away from writing.

Although I genuinely try to encourage more thoughtful shopping habits and highlight brands that appear to be making better decisions around materials and production, it’s hard not to occasionally ask myself why this all matters. I can spend thousands of words talking about a brand that’s using more sustainable practices, fabrics, or taking greater care in how garments are woven, dyed, or manufactured. Those things absolutely matter, but it still doesn’t feel like enough.

It leaves me wondering what more I can do to ensure I’m making a positive impact in this space.

Especially when you’re working in an industry built around consumption. There’s so much waste, so much misinformation, and, ultimately, you never really know the full picture behind what a brand chooses to tell you. This is could for so much more though, but let’s save that conversation for another day.

At the same time, you’re still seeing overconsumption.

Maybe this is simply because I’m completely off TikTok now and spend most of my time on Substack, with the occasional Instagram story spree, but I do feel like there’s been a bit of a shift. It seems like more people are being more intentional, they’re taking more time to dissect what they’re potentially buying rather than purchasing something on impulse. It’s a hard habit to break, so kudos to anyone that’s shifted gears.

I had a discussion with a friend the other day, he works at a local boutique here, about how more people are actually looking at care tags now. He’s had discussions with customers about the dos and don’ts about how to care for a product, the story behind a designer, collection, or how something is made. People are showing more interest in knowing the full scope of something, rather than limiting themselves to the surface-level.

I’ve definitely been on the other side of that coin. I’ve bought things because they were flashy, or because someone whose opinion I trusted said they were worth buying. Hearing that more people are taking a minute to see what something is made from, looking into the brand behind it, and learning about its practices, is genuinely encouraging.

All in all, it’s hard not to feel a little existential about what I’m doing with this Duchump, and the platform that I’ve somehow, slowly but surely, managed to build. Although, to be fair, you could probably say that about almost anything right now. The world feels is burning, whether it’s here in North America, the wildfires across Europe, or everything happening in the Arctic, we’re seeing the effects from every angle.

I remember asking Jonah from Blackbird Spyplane a similar question:

“How do you stay interested in fashion and continue writing about it when everything around you feels so bleak?” Or, something like that.

I don’t remember his answer word for word, but I believe it was something along the lines of being able to separate the two. Fashion is his thing, it’s his lifeblood. Even while the world is struggling, there’s still room to have thoughtful conversations about clothes, and his writing has always reflected that. He doesn’t just tell you what to buy or recap a collection, he writes pieces that leave you thinking, and I do respect that, especially since we’re in such a recommendations-heavy culture right now.

Still, I can’t help but feel the two are connected. It’s a strange time to be writing about fashion. I don’t really know what the point of this post is. I don’t even know why I’m saying all of this. It just felt like I needed somewhere to vent because, despite everything, this little corner of fashion can be incredibly exciting. It’s deeply community-driven — you meet people who genuinely feel like your peers, people you can bounce ideas off of and, in a weird way, feel whole around. We’re kinda like Freaks and Geeks, except not in the 80s.

I’m incredibly grateful to everyone who’s made this possible. The agencies, the brands, the designers who’ve taken the time to speak with me, invite me to presentations, or simply have a conversation. It’s just hard not to occasionally wonder whether any of this matters when there are much bigger problems in the world.

Maybe this connects with someone, maybe it connects with no one. Either way, that’s okay.

I’ve always written because I wanted to share whatever happened to be on my mind, so if you’ve been feeling anything like I have lately, I’m here to chat. Even though this is a fashion newsletter, all of this is pretty small potatoes in the grand scheme of things. I’m happy to help with styling advice, recommend brands, but I’m also here to chat about the everyday parts of life.

At the end of the day, I’m just another person trying to figure things out, especially now.

What I’ve Been Reading, Watching, or Will Read

Climate Change

• A Sharp Acceleration in Global Warming

• Climate Change May Be Making Us Lonelier

• Butterflies Moves to Poles In Response to Climate Change

Fashion

• A PSA from Colin Meredith

• Fashion in the Surveillance State

• The Princesses of China

Miscellaneous

• The Phenomenon of Performative Identity

• Even Sound Systems Are Being Gentrified

• Unfortunately, You Need to Know What the Jevons Paradox Is

• Nobody Believes In Later Anymore

• Arctic Monkeys (Reading Festival 2006)

• The Real Reason Substack is Collapsing

And this week’s album is Lost In Sound by Yusuf Lateef.

Your subscription keeps this project alive and independent. At a time when much of fashion media is driven by traffic, affiliate links, and advertising, I want Duchump to remain a place for thoughtful reporting and honest, at times chaotic, criticism.

Thank you for your support.

Subscribe now

I was never a star student.

During my first four years of high school, I was usually at the basketball courts down the street instead of class. Some could say I was living my own version of One Tree Hill, except instead of being a star basketball player and Caucasian heartthrob, I was a light-skinned, curly-haired, lanky teenager wearing graphic tees that read, “I’m just like you, only smarter and better looking,” Limp Bizkit-enthusiast-sized jeans, and Phat Farm shoes (RIP).

On rainy days, I’d be listening to Bullet For My Valentine, Alexisonfire, John Coltrane, Lloyd, Bobby V, and Soundgarden, while spending countless hours on MapleStory. School wasn’t exactly my forte, so I never imagined fashion would somehow bring me back into a classroom years later.

This personal lore recap brings me to shoes. My biggest struggle with fashion is, and I’m definitely not alone here, footwear.

I can’t express the frustration of putting together a brilliant fit (when it hits, shit got me feeling like Bradley Cooper in Limitless), only to come crashing back down to earth when I realize I don’t have the right shoes to complete the look. It’s tragic. Makes you think, man. Makes you think.

Truthfully, I think this ongoing issue with footwear comes down to three things:

1. There are way, way too many options. I’ve lost track of how many pairs I’ve missed out on because I couldn’t decide between the colour, the leather, the sole, or whether I’d actually wear them enough to justify the purchase.

2. Shoes have become absurdly expensive over the past 5 years. How are you supposed to commit to a pair when it’s about to burn an $800–1,000 hole in your wallet? WWD recently reported footwear prices jumped another 5.2% this past May, marking the fifth increase in six months, and the most significant jump in four years. While that’s largely referring to sneakers, you can see the same thing happening throughout contemporary menswear.
   (For my Our Legacy friends, remember when Camions were around $560 CAD? They’re now creeping towards the $1,000 mark.)

3. Lastly, and probably my biggest gripe, footwear feels stagnant. Brands seem more interested in replicating one another than actually pushing things forward. Not feeling Paraboots? That’s all good, you’ve got Klemans, Yuketen, Solovair, or even Instagram brands like Collegium. Even fast fashion companies have their own versions now. Everyone’s making the same Michael-esque shoes, and if I’m being honest, it’s become quite boring.

Unsurprisingly, one of the bigger conversations throughout Paris Fashion Week was footwear, or more specifically, where to find good footwear. We’re starved for something refreshing, exciting. Or, if you’re like me, something that sits somewhere between wearable and weird enough to have elderly people walking past wondering whether you’re real, or a figment of their imagination.

(Sorry my shoes are hard as fuck, gramps. You hate me ‘cause you ain’t me.)

If I’m expected to spend so much on a pair of shoes, then they better tick off a few boxes like comfortability, design, quality, etc. I’d say practicality, but I’m 31 years old and I still don’t own a raincoat while living in the Pacific Northwest. It’s safe to say practicality isn’t a huge factor here.

Which brings me to Sine & Cosine.

Founded by Felix Koopmans and Robert Pans, the Dutch-based brand has managed to do something that's surprisingly difficult today: make familiar footwear feel exciting again and their collections are entirely unisex. They've taken what could've been an ordinary shoe and turned it into something entirely their own. Naturally, this left me wondering how two people making actual fun, yet sleek, footwear landed on a name straight out of a Grade 10 math class.

“Robert and Felix both have a background in mathematics: Robert holds a master’s degree in econometrics, and Felix in stochastics,” Thomas Hibbert, their Head of Communication, tells me. “As neither had any formal education in fashion, they found a way to apply their academic knowledge to the design process. Hence, the brand was named after a cornerstone of mathematics.”

It’s an origin story that sounds a little strange at first, but after viewing their collection, it weirdly makes perfect sense. There’s something reassuring about knowing Felix and Robert don’t come from traditional fashion backgrounds. The fashion industry has a funny way of making you think you need the right education, the right internship, or the right connections before you’re allowed to contribute. Instead, they took what they knew best, applied it to footwear, and ended up launching one of the more exciting brands in fashion right now.

So, where do you even begin building a footwear brand like this?

“It started with the wooden clog, a piece of Dutch heritage that had become a tourist novelty,” Thomas tells me.

If you’ve been following Duchump recently, you’ll have noticed we’ve had a bit of a Dutch streak going, so it was fun seeing that thread continue. Robert and Felix wanted to reinterpret the clog through a contemporary lens, rather than leaving it as little more than a classic souvenir you bring to your parents. “That was the inception of our first design, The Hannes Clog. The process of bringing that design to life is what ultimately led to the founding of Sine & Cosine as a brand.”

Speaking of heritage, the brand had brought on a historian to work with the team. “Thomas joined the brand shortly after its launch,” Felix tells me, “It wasn’t a deliberate choice to bring someone with his background onto the team, our paths crossed through a mutual friend. Nevertheless, Thomas’ background in history grounded our concepts, pushing the design process forward.”

Their Theresia Derby is an example of this new, natural integration within the team, as the shoe feels historical, or as they say on their website, “draws inspiration from bygone centuries.” It looks like a relic, something lost in time only to be found and refurbished into something new. The cut-out opening makes almost any look more fun, especially paired with a good pair of socks.

It’s this blending of whimsy and stoicism that intrigues me, incorporating darker leathers into otherwise fun silhouettes. “There’s a methodology inherent in academia that we apply to our designs,” shares Felix. “For example, in mathematics, a problem must be distilled to its core components to be understood and solved,” he adds, “we apply that same methodology when designing. A historical reference is abstracted, disregarding any unnecessary details. With only the core components remaining, we form that into a minimalist contemporary design.”

Hearing Felix speak, my own trauma from failed math classes started creeping back in. My attention span could never survive a full lesson, though one teacher did figure out that the quickest way to get through to me was through music. We’d spend half the class talking about whatever I was listening to at the time before he’d throw on tracks like The Flaming Lips’ “I Wanna Get High, But I Don’t Want Brain Damage” and somehow convince me to pay attention for the next twenty minutes.

Song sucks, by the way.

To the average consumer, mathematics and fashion seem like polar opposites, but the more you think about it, the more you realize they’re actually quite intertwined. The precision in measurements, pattern-cutting, sizing, it’s all connected. “The intersection of those two worlds in a practical sense doesn’t largely influence our creative process,” shares Thomas.

“Of course, it helps a lot with the examples you mentioned. We focus more on mathematics as a theoretical and conceptual principle that drives our designs. For this season, the collection was inspired by topology—spatial characteristics of forms and how they hold their fundamental properties even as they change and shift. A theory like that, when you think about it, logically translates to footwear. It’s through those intersections that our approach is shaped.”

This perspective feels refreshing. It's not every day you hear a designer reference topology instead of nostalgia. Most brands today will find inspiration behind things that, in my opinion, feel more like a fabricated story for the sake of having a story. Things like “oh, I saw people at a cafe and felt inspired by the social aspects of life,” or the colours someone wore at Target, or “I listened to Creed and was touched by Scott Stapp’s lyricism.”

The last two have probably never been a source of inspiration for, well, anything. If you’ve heard otherwise, please let me know as I would love to interview whoever that is.

Whether or not topology means anything to you is almost beside the point. What stuck with me was seeing two people take the language they understood best and use it to solve a problem they felt footwear wasn’t solving. That’s a far more interesting starting point than chasing trends, and maybe that’s why Sine & Cosine’s work feels so different in the first place.

Brief pause.

You know what's funny?

Mathematics has always felt completely foreign to me, yet here I am discussing it with people who’ve mastered it. If anything, this conversation reminded me that the best ideas rarely come from the places you’d expect. While Felix and Robert’s approach to design immediately stood out, I was just as curious how that same mindset had shaped the brand.

“In your experience, can you touch on the progression of growing a smaller brand? Were there any significant hurdles or challenges along the way?” I ask.

“The most important challenge to overcome was finding a way to position ourselves to be patient with the brand,” Thomas shares.

“Finances are always an issue, cash flow problems with production, for example, so you’re inclined to jump at every opportunity and focus on short-term goals instead of long-term ones. We’re still very much at the beginning of our brand, but being patient has built a strong foundation we can expand upon.” We’ll often see small brands do too much, too quickly, but Sine & Cosines opts for the opposite, leading to their organic growth. “Figuring out how to achieve that position will differ from person to person and from brand to brand, but doing so is of great significance. Slow, sustainable growth will always trump quick cash and fast-paced expansion.”

With this in mind, this is the second Dutch-based brand I’ve interviewed recently, which makes me want to pull this thread further to see what else is cooking in places like Amsterdam. “It’s [Amsterdam] a creatively rich place that has a lot to offer for such a small city,” Thomas says. “Right now, there is definitely something brewing within fashion specifically. There has been a strong momentum for Dutch brands over the past few years, earning the city, and the Netherlands, more international recognition.”

And we’ve seen this with brands like De Dam Foundation slowly, but surely, stirring up buzz throughout menswear writers on Substack, and recently in the debut issue of In The Practice by Sven Minnis. “This momentum has also led to Amsterdam being a perfect incubator for smaller brands–in which we found ourselves. There’s no elbowing yourself to the top, everyone is keen to help each other in the capacity that they can. It’s an exciting development that will hopefully continue to further grow and blossom into the future.”

With this, it leads to my final question of the interview.

In your opinion, what’s the best way for a brand to survive, and actually thrive, in today’s landscape?

In a world where almost anyone can start a brand, and anyone with enough money can accelerate it, I was curious what surviving as a smaller operation actually looks like today. “Become recognizable through consistency in all your output and find a business strategy that will allow you to grow your brand steadily and sustainably.” The latter feels almost lost in today’s culture, as the number of people I’ve seen strive for greatness quickly without taking the time to settle, grind, get better, is disappointing, especially when you see potential there.

“This will help you to build a strong foundation without watering down your ideas.”

Right now, there’s nothing more precious than an innovative, creative mind. Your ideas, your concepts, your interests, it’s all so precious. We need more brands like Sine & Cosine. Their perspectives, their inspiration, the way they design and work, it’s refreshing to see and discuss.

This conversation left a funny feeling in my stomach, which sounds ridiculous considering we’ve spent the last few thousand words talking about shoes. But I don’t think this conversation was ever really about shoes. It was about curiousity, if that makes any sense.

I wasn’t a good student growing up, yet somehow fashion brought me back into classrooms I never expected to be sitting in, speaking to people I never thought I’d be chatting with, to discuss things such as mathematics, history, social justice, science, and so on. This time, I didn’t have the urge to skip class, or come up with an excuse to stay home for the day. Like my final year in high school, I found a way to connect to subjects I’ve always found terrifying, but in a way that’s comforting, and now with a curious mindset.

Maybe that’s what stayed with me most.

The best ideas rarely come from the places you’d expect. Sometimes they come from mathematicians making shoes, sometimes they come from historians helping shape them. All I know is I left the conversation feeling more curious than when I walked into it, and right now, that feels like one of the most valuable things fashion can offer.

I just hope I never lose this feeling.

Credits:
Words by Chris Maradiaga
Photography by Mackai Sharp

Your subscription keeps this project alive and independent. At a time when much of fashion media is driven by traffic, affiliate links, and advertising, I want Duchump to remain a place for thoughtful reporting and honest, at times chaotic, criticism.

Thank you for your support.

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Sleep started to feel more like a fictional concept the longer I stayed awake.

I’d count more sheep than I’ve ever seen in my life, I’d slow my breathing down while listening to a man, who very closely resembled Jesus Christ, repeat affirmations to me and 300K viewers, hoping to get even a half hour of rest.

I wonder how many of those 300,000 viewers are also struggling to sleep. Or, maybe they’re simply in it to watch faux-Jesus tell them how they are deserving of massive financial gain. So far, these affirmations have yet to come to fruition, but maybe if I listen to his video again at a certain volume/frequency, it’ll hit.

Another hour would pass, yet I’m still awake. Not in a calming, zen type of way, but instead in that dizzying state of disassociation that only comes from a severe lack of sleep. Eventually, once it became socially acceptable to be outside, I’d step into a freezing cold shower and start thinking about what I was going to see that day.

Even if I felt like a shell of a human, I was still determined to drag my lifeless body around Paris (think Weekend at Bernie’s, but in Paris and in nicer fits) in search of the latest and greatest in menswear.

This process, whether here in the city or at home behind my computer, can be surprisingly exhausting. There is too fucking much out there. You start feeling a little crazy digging through countless product pages, flipping through Instagram accounts, visiting shops, and hoping something eventually clicks. After an hour or two, you kinda just want to stand up, have a fizzy drink, or have a cigarette if you’re hard as fuck (I am not).

Anyways, my trips to Paris Fashion Week have become as much about catching up with friends and previewing collections from brands I love as they are about finding lesser-known, newer voices to feature and write about. People with something to say, even if their garments might look deceivingly simple at first glance.

For SS27, I had the pleasure of receiving a DM from Hyunjoon Choe, founder of the Korean label Sororam. He’d known about Duchump for some time and thought it’d be great to connect. Truthfully, I’m grateful he reached out because this visit ended up being one of the highlights of my trip.

(Also, and not to toot my own horn here, but he only wanted one member of the press that week, and he wanted me. Sorry BBSP, Wardrobe, Highsnobiety, Present Forever, Wimpy, etc. Love you all, but I’m taking this W.)

With Sororam, Hyunjoon’s ethos is “one exceptional design per category.” While that isn’t exactly a new design philosophy, it’s one I appreciate in a world where we see more fashion waste than we ever should, and in an industry constantly chasing trends and newness. For now, Hyunjoon is focused solely on shirting. Getting the feel right, removing anything unnecessary from the construction, and thinking equally about the present and the future.

These are shirts meant to live long, fruitful lives, worn for everything from a bitchy walk to celebrating your friend getting a BBL, or something. I don’t know, I don’t really go out much, okay?

This season, though Sororam feels more like an ever-evolving wardrobe than one built around traditional seasonal collections, we saw familiar shirts reimagined through different fabrics. Silk-cottons, chambrays, tropical wools, oxfords, with colours ranging from a classic Duchump palette of dreary greys, partly sunny blues, midnight blacks, to light pinks (colour of the season), Easter yellows, rich blues, and crisp white oxfords.

Overall, these are shirts that might read as classics at first glance, but it’s the construction that helps them stand out. As I mentioned, Hyunjoon is always looking for ways to remove whatever isn’t needed, creating a looser, more comfortable silhouette. While some brands love to brag about their technical prowess, sometimes it feels like they’re turning an otherwise simple shirt into a technical masterclass just for the sake of clicks, or to prove they can.

Personally, I’m impressed by the opposite. By someone stripping away the clutter and creating something sharp, focused, without any fluff. Something enthusiasts can appreciate without it having to scream for attention. The pendulum might be swinging back towards bigger, louder, flashier clothes, but not for me.

With appointments lining up from several high-profile buyers, I don’t think it’ll be long before Sororam becomes a much more familiar name within menswear circles. To kick off that transition, I sat down with Hyunjoon to record our conversation while looking through the collection.

Just two people talking.

(We kinda got right into it. So, enjoy.)

H: Yeah, last season was a bit calmer, and it was my first season.

The original idea of Sororam was to make only one product per category, which means only one colour, only one fabric. I had to find one exceptional fabric for this design, along with a colour. Naturally, I went with white since it’s classic.

However, last season I was talking with an agency in Japan, and they said, “One product is fine, but you need variation. You can’t just put one shirt in the showroom and expect buyers to purchase it.”

At the time, it felt like a compromise of my original idea. I was a bit negative towards this, but now I’m actually very grateful they encouraged me to do that. Because I think these days, even though we’re saying one exceptional design for each category, one exceptional design with one exceptional colour and fabric feels too narrow of an idea. I have to respect one’s personality, and not force them to wear this.

You know what I mean?

So, this is our Spring/Summer collection. Personally, I don’t really think of it as SS27, I want to move away from thinking in seasons. At the same time, I’m still very new to the industry, so I have to follow some of the rules. I tell buyers and press it’s SS27 because that’s how the system works, but I don’t really tell customers that. A buyer could still be selling this shirt five years from now.

To me, it’s seasonless.

This season, I wanted more of a pop in colour since last season was very calm, so we added brown, like the shirt that you’re wearing, a white option, and a grey. There’s also an indigo and charcoal one, too. Eventually, I found that it all felt a bit subdued, the atmosphere felt too down.

I thought maybe I’m going to try a bit more variety in colours and fabric instead. For example, our new stripe shirt, it’s not something I would necessarily wear colour-wise as it doesn’t fit my personality type. But, there are some people who would like this more than our standard white shirt.

That’s why I introduced more colours and different fabrics this season.

C: I think it really stands out. The pattern matching is gorgeous. It’s beautiful.

The factory that makes these shirts is, I would say, the best shirt factory in Korea. They’ve made shirts for several chairmen of a few major Korean companies.

The craftsmanship is exceptional, and the funny thing is, I didn’t even ask them to pattern-match it like this.

Really? You should take credit for that.

(laughs) What’s actually happening is something we call the “ghost seam.” We don’t have an incision line in the shoulder, we only have it on the inside. So, we kind of conceal the shoulder. This type of striped pattern isn’t going to stop here, it continues along the back and meets here.

This is one of our differences. Even though we’re doing “normal” shirts, we still want to make a difference.

Of course.

Sorry, I feel like I keep talking.

(laughs) No, no, no. Don’t worry, we’re just chatting.

No, you should stop me if I keep going.

Also, one more thing to note about our “ghost seam” detail is that there’s no seam between the main collar and the band collar. That’s just my personstal taste, it makes the shirt’s construction feel more luxurious.

When you look at a Bentley Continental GT, for example, on the back they don’t have many lines (idk the technical term for this) because they instead make the whole panel altogether. I think that gives me an impression of cleanliness.

That’s why, from the front, you barely see the seam here because I’ve shifted it towards the back. Then it continues and meets the seam on the sleeve.

It’s just a small detail.

I mean, that’s what stands out to me. At the end of the day it’s a shirt, but there are so many little details within it that make it feel different, refreshing. It’s not obvious until you take a closer look.

I also wanted to ask about your campaign. It looks beautiful, the imagery fits the brand very well.

Thank you.

Have you been working in fashion for a long time? What’s your story?

My personal story?

I studied fashion in Paris. I actually started at the Seoul campus, then transferred to Paris after I finished my military service. After graduating, I interned at IRO Paris. Then I went back to Korea and worked for Post Archive Faction.

It was just for one season, but it went very well. By the middle of last season, however, I realized I wanted to do my own thing. Even if it meant being broke, I still wanted to build something of my own.

I left the company on good terms and started Sororam last year.

That’s interesting. And when it comes to your personal design style, how has that evolved since then?

I don’t really agree with fashion’s current design language a little bit. I find myself looking more at product design, architecture, even automotive design. Take Apple, for example. They’ve been selling the iPhone for more than ten years, refining the same product over time.

Personally, I’ve never really understood why fashion always feels like it has to create something completely new every season. I understand why, it is fashion, but I think my way of thinking is a little different. I’m trying to create one product, not just “a shirt,” but this shirt, and continue refining it over ten years.

Of course it’ll change over time. If I find something that can be improved, I’ll update it. It’ll become the next version of that same product. That’s really the philosophy I developed from working in the industry, even if I wasn’t there for very long.

I actually feel like the direction you’re talking about is becoming more and more prevalent in menswear.

There are a lot of thoughts that come to mind, but I think over the last year and a half, maybe two years, we’ve seen this huge shift away from what was popular in menswear towards much more niche brands. People are paying attention to fabrics, construction, longevity, all of those details.

At the same time, we’re seeing more brands embrace a seasonless approach. I honestly think we’ve reached a point where we’ve moved past quantity. People are looking for quality now. There are brands releasing 100+ pieces every season, and that’s great, it might even be a beautiful collection, but it’s a lot.

As a designer, you’re constantly under pressure to invent something completely new every six months.

One hundred percent.

I’m actually working on trousers now. These are the first pair (a pair of light, khaki trousers that are soft, worn-in, and sit beautifully). I’m not completely satisfied with them yet. One thing I’m starting to do is remove as many seams as possible. There aren’t any unnecessary seams here, and I’m trying to integrate the pocket line with the belt loop as well.

I’m still working on the shape. I felt it was too bulky for me. I’m going to keep working on those, but for now...

That’s what I appreciate so much about brands like Sororam. You find something, a shirt in this case, and instead of coming up with an entirely new model, you keep refining the original.

That seasonless approach resonates with me. I don’t want this to sound like I’m preaching “slow fashion,” because that’s not really what I’m trying to say. I just think conversations around quality and longevity have become more prominent recently.

There are so many discussions happening online now. I’ve probably gotten into four or five different arguments over the last few months about it.

(laughs) I saw some of it on Reddit. I don’t really know the culture there, but I noticed something was happening.

I thought it was only Korean customers who argued like that online.

No, everywhere has people like that. It’s exhausting.

Over the last six months I’ve written four or five different pieces that basically boil down to, “Can everyone please calm down? It isn’t that deep.”

It feels like there are three different groups now. You have people who genuinely love clothing, they care about fabrics, construction and the brands themselves. Then you have another group who’s only interested because it’s trendy. And then both of them clash because one calls out the other for being too deep in it, while they get called out for being too trend-driven.

It’s an ongoing cycle, but that actually leads into something I wanted to ask you about.

One thread I’ve been pulling on lately is Korean fashion. I’ve spoken with a few Korean designers this past week, and I’m curious: what’s fashion culture actually like in Korea?

What’s trending? What are people buying? Is it really as trend-driven as people say? I’ve heard from a few people that Korean consumers move on very quickly and are always chasing whatever’s new.

Well, I kind of disagree with that.

I understand why they say that. Korea is a country that buys a lot of modern luxury goods from LVMH brands, which then means Korean people are in fact willing to spend money on high-end, high-quality, expensive products. It’s just different when it comes to Korean brands.

I’m going to be a bit critical of Korean brands here, but I don’t think we’ve become very good at selling fantasy.

We’re always talking about the product itself, how many stitches it has, where the fabric comes from. Those things are important, but today, I think brands also have to sell a lifestyle. They have to create a fantasy around the person their customer wants to become.

I think that’s the biggest difference between many Korean brands and brands from somewhere like Japan. I don’t know if you’d agree with me, but I think Japanese brands are very good at building a world around themselves. They’re talking about life, they’re talking about a way of living, they’re selling something beyond the garment.

That said, I actually think Japanese brands struggle with this too. You mentioned in a comment on Auralee a while back that, aside from maybe Lemaire, it’s hard to feel much difference among the other minimal, high quality brands, and I completely agree. I think the reason we feel something different from Lemaire is that it speaks to a Parisian way of life, while other brands don’t go that far and end up stopping at simply making good products.

This newer wave of brands, and hopefully Korean brands as well, need to talk about life itself, beyond product quality (which still matters, of course), if they want to compete with Japanese brands. In other words, I actually think Japanese brands aren’t particularly good at building fantasy either. What I think happens is that Japan as a country already carries a kind of built-in fantasy, so even when Japanese brands focus purely on product, they get the benefit of an implied craftsmanship story riding along with it anyway.

Korea, unlike Japan, hasn’t claimed that “high quality” branding language for itself as a country. Rather than focusing on product the way Japanese brands do, Korean brands need to build something beyond that to compete. To be clear, I do love Japanese brands and take some pride in them too, as a fellow country in East Asia.

But, if Korean brands keep competing on the same terms and the same playing field, they’ll end up as nothing more than a cheaper alternative to Japanese ones. To get past the penalty that comes with being from Korea, and for the brand itself to earn real standing, I believe designers of my generation and the ones before me need to create something beyond the product, some higher value.

I love that.

Honestly, I think that’s exactly what’s going to separate you from everyone else.

The collection itself is beautiful. I already love the construction and everything you're doing, but if you build that kind of identity around it, you’re giving people more than just the perfect shirt. You’re creating a story, you’re creating something people can connect with.

I actually think that’s what’s missing from a lot of smaller independent brands right now. Sometimes it feels like the conversation is simply, “Here’s our bomber jacket.”

Okay, but why does it exist? Sometimes it’s nice to have that extra oomph to something, you know?

Exactly.

Making a beautiful product isn’t enough anymore. These days almost anyone can make a nice product if they're willing to spend enough money on production. Of course, there are brands that actually develop their own fabrics from scratch, whereas I still buy my fabric.

But one day, I’d love to develop our own as well.

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(Last Edited: 8:13AM PST — added brief interview with Shotaro Yamaguchi)

As I approach Palais de Tokyo, a man pulls up beside me, feet planted firmly on the ground after ripping up the block on a Lime bike.

“Tu sais que c’est là que vit Mbappé?”

I take out my earbuds, Tara Clerkin Trio now playing faintly in the background, and ask him to repeat himself.

“Cet appartement-là, c’est là que vit Mbappé. Parlez-vous français?”

Embarrassingly, I tell him I can’t speak French, though I do know who Mbappé is, as does the rest of the world. He points toward the top of a building in the distance.

“That’s where he lives,” he tells me.

Then, as suddenly as he pulled up beside me on his Lime bike, he’s gone.

Now armed with this completely unnecessary(?) piece of information, I continue toward Palais de Tokyo, wondering whether the interaction I just had was some sort of fever dream brought on by the inhospitable heat and lack of sleep. I enter the iconic gallery, home to countless Rick Owens presentations over the years, and I begin wondering what the next 45 minutes will have in store.

Unlike last season, the room feels hollow, cold. There isn’t much colour, or much life to it. It’s the perfect setting to present something that feels completely at odds with its environment.

Peter Sherno, a friend I met in New York and an incredibly talented photographer, greets me with a hug before I’m asked to head back to my seat. Edward Buchanan sits front of me, I begin screaming internally. The room’s slowly becoming brighter, the music becomes more prominent and clear rather than a distant echo.

The show is about to begin.

There are only a handful of brands on the Paris Fashion Week calendar that really get me excited these days. The majority cater to a demographic I don’t really resonate with anymore, but there’s one brand that has consistently kept me interested over the past few seasons, and that brand is Kiichiro Asakawa’s ssstein.

There are a few reasons why, but the first is the quality and fit.

As someone with a bigger frame, or let’s call it a mid-sized frame, ssstein is one of the few Japanese brands that consistently fits me well. Of course, there are a few exceptions. The sulfur-dyed jacket from FW25 and the baggy denim jeans were either weirdly oversized yet short, or weirdly long yet snug. Whether it was intentional or not, I ended up selling both, unfortunately.

Regardless of those exceptions, their shirting and sweaters are consistently flattering and comfortable, with their wools, silks, and rayons being among the best in contemporary menswear. To me, Kiichiro Asakawa’s fabric selection always feels premium, and for the price point, it’s genuinely difficult to beat. Especially when brands occupying the same space in menswear are selling shirts of similar, or sometimes lesser, quality for significantly more.

With sizing, I’ve yet to have any major qualms with the brand, other than the limited inventory some stores have, and how quickly I’ll miss out on a piece. I find that, because of their looser proportions, the sleeves and shoulders (aside from the one jacket and jeans) fit majestically on someone like myself with broad shoulders, longer arms. These two segments are my biggest weaknesses with shirts, and ssstein consistently hits it outta the park.

These call me Wemby Jr. (they don’t call me that) because of these long-ass arms.

This season, we saw another round of lightweight, airy skipper shirts (the light pink one was a favourite— also, remember what I said in my previous post about pinks?), classic plaids, v-neck cashmere sweaters, and cashmere crewnecks. Garments we've seen before, both dressed up and down, yet still presented in ways that felt fresh.

With that in mind, the question of repetition comes up again. In my Auralee review, I mentioned how I feel like I’ve grown out of the Auralee perspective in some ways, with SS27 feeling a bit flat. It came across as gimmicky and repetitive, and while there were still some strong looks, they didn’t land with the same impact they have in previous seasons.

With ssstein, though, Asakawa continues to demonstrate such a sharp eye for menswear that, despite the repetition, it still feels fresh. For lack of a better term, and I know y’all hate this word, it feels timeless. That does beg the question though:

How many silk/cotton skipper shirts is too many? Will we see another teal or emerald cashmere sweater next season? How many vintage inspired workwear jackets are too many?

To be fair, the design language Asakawa has built is still relatively young. While the brand is 10-years old, that consistency we’ve seen recently has really only become apparent over the last three or four collections, including this one. That being said, their outerwear was, yet again, a highlight this season, though that’s almost expected with Asakawa now.

You have those classic ssstein-isms: the zip blousons, another iteration of the sulfur-dyed jacket, but this time in corduroy. I still love the way they reinterpret familiar workwear silhouettes, whether that’s adding a sheep leather collar, exaggerating the proportions, or simply presenting them in colours you wouldn’t normally associate with those pieces.

The opening two looks were immediate hits. Both suede jackets struck this beautiful balance between vibrance and subtlety. The red hooded jacket was another standout, though honestly, ssstein’s red outerwear has quietly become one of my favourite things they’ve done over the past couple of seasons.

Their leather jackets also deserve far more attention. The sheep leather pieces are incredibly well-priced considering the quality. One from FW25 retailed for around $1,600CAD. Auralee, despite using a similar, if not the same, material for their own jacket, sold theirs for over $3,000CAD.

It also, and maybe this is a hot take, looked incredibly average. But alas.

As for ssstein, well, this is where they excel, using premium fabrics, thoughtful construction, wearable silhouettes, and pricing that still feels reasonable within luxury menswear. It’s no wonder why the majority of their collection sells out instantly.

The second reason I loved SS27 was the styling.

Shotaro Yamaguchi’s work remains incredible. He brings this surrealist quality to otherwise practical, everyday clothing. Individually, these are fairly simple garments. Beautifully made, yes, but pieces that most people that don’t work in fashion probably wouldn’t bat an eye at. The styling is what transforms them into something much more artistic.

One look that really stuck with me was what I assume were wool shorts with a cashmere V-neck layered over two collared shirts, belted with loafers and no socks. Even the look after it, either two skipper shirts layered on top of each other, or a V-neck sweater layered over a skipper shirt with another pair of short shorts and an oversized coat, I genuinely couldn’t tell because everything was happening so quickly, was fantastic.

While the menswear was still strong, the womenswear (Asakawa presents both menswear and womenswear collections at once), and the styling behind it, was a massive hit. The latest iteration of the Vintage Whip Cord Jacket was layered over a silk blouse and two crewnecks, finished with a pair of shorts. It feels like such a duh moment, but it works. You almost feel stupid for not thinking of it yourself, but that's why Shotaro excels. He keeps you on your toes.

That’s what I love about his work. He combines colours that shouldn’t necessarily work together, but somehow they do. He layers, and layers, and layers, bringing out elements that could be considered “disheveled” or “sloppy,” yet somehow making everything feel more human. These are lived-in looks, they feel natural and effortless. Still thoughtful, still put together, but believable.

There’s something romantic about it, but also slightly absurd, in the best way. I asked Shotaro a few questions regarding his time working with Asakawa and his creative approach.

Cue brief interview:

You work feels both so elegant yet complex. Can you explain the approach, or inspiration, for your work?

I try not to overthink things. Instead, I let myself be carried by something like the natural rhythm of my own intuition. I make a conscious effort to stop before my hands become controlled by my thoughts. I want the work to come from instinct rather than calculation.

How long have you worked with Kiichiro Asakawa? What has that been like?

I've been working with Kiichiro Asakawa for about five years now. I'm constantly inspired by the balance of his perspective and the way he thinks. Working alongside him has been an incredibly stimulating experience.

Do you find it easier to style a look when the garments are of a finer quality, like ssstein's cashmere sweaters for example? Or their silk skipper shirts?

I think quality is a very important element in creating an atmosphere. However, what matters most to me is the world a brand is trying to express through its clothing. Whenever I have the opportunity to work with a brand that has a clear vision like that, it's always incredibly exciting.

Do you feel like your work is constantly evolving each season? If so, how?

Perhaps my work is evolving, or perhaps it's regressing, I honestly don't know. It feels a bit like nature itself — flowers, living things, the natural world. As time passes, something is always being lost while something else is quietly being accumulated. I try to stay open to whatever surrounds me in that moment (the model, the clothes, the fabric, the weather, and everything else) and to trust those influences, allowing them to guide me as naturally as possible.

As per the show notes, the collection is designed with endless styling potential in mind, while still making use of premium materials like silk, deerskin, and corduroy.

Sidenote: One piece I especially want to call out appears toward the end of the show: the brown leather car coat. Absolutely stunning, it is stunnnnnninggggg. The sheen, the way the leather creased and reflected the light, it was gorgeous and has set the bar high this season for car coats in my opinion. The all-brown styling didn’t hurt either, though this is coming from someone who’s an absolute sucker for monochromatic brown outfits.

Speaking of brown, another thing Asakawa consistently nails is colour.

The third thing I love about this collection: colour, colour, colour.

Kiichiro Asakawa found himself inspired after spending the morning at a lakeside. The stillness he felt as rays of light broke through the trees, illuminating the landscape and filling it with delicate colour, became the foundation for the collection. That feeling was later reinforced after coming across a series of watercolour paintings by Roni Horn.

Although I’ll typically gravitate toward darker, more muted tones, I’ve loved their colour choices over the last four seasons. It’ll be an assortment of colours that, while I personally wouldn’t wear together, somehow looks fantastic.

Asakawa spends most of the collection working within an incredibly digestible palette, before suddenly introducing a rich teal, lots of soft butter/vanilla yellows this season, a rich green, and of course, those beautiful, hard-hitting reds that completely shift the mood without ever feeling forced. God, I could write an essay on how his red jackets have struck a chord with me and lingered in my mind since January.

There's one piece I'd like to highlight, the Light Yellow Nylon Blouson, developed exclusively for ssstein by Olmetex. The 74-year-old textile mill, based in Italy, paired with its garment-dyeing process, gives the jacket its vibrant yellow colour and worn-in appearance. Another standout was the mid-length corduroy coat, made using fabric from Pontoglio, the 130-year-old Italian mill. Most collections have one, maybe two hero garments (aka statement pieces, showstoppers, you get the gist).

I’d say, for this collection, we had several.

This is menswear executed at an incredibly high level. It feels intellectual without trying to overcomplicate things, or forcing a story behind that intellectualism for the sake of justifying a style, garment, look. It balances sophistication with casualness, playfulness with restraint, classic tailoring with something a little more adventurous, it has it all.

When I think about luxury menswear, if someone who had never cared about fashion asked me what it should look like, this is probably where my mind goes. That, or the Denver Nuggets guy.

SS27 connected naturally to previous seasons while introducing enough new silhouettes and ideas to keep the pendulum moving forward. That’s probably where I differ from Auralee.

With Auralee, I pretty much know what to expect. There was a period where I absolutely loved what they were doing, but now I don’t really look to them as much anymore. The sizing has never felt particularly inclusive, their pricing can be quite high for something relatively simple in its construction or fabric (e.g. $400CAD for brushed cotton tees), and stylistically they no longer inspire me the way they once did.

ssstein is the opposite.

The fabrics are excellent, the pricing feels fair, the sizing works surprisingly well for someone my size, and creatively I find myself coming back to the brand for inspiration. Whether it’s sophisticated dressing, everyday outfits, or something a little more playful, there’s always an idea I walk away wanting to try myself.

There isn’t a season that goes by where I’m aggressively seeking something by the brand.

Recently I read an article arguing that ssstein and Soshiotsuki have become the new pinnacle of Japanese menswear, and honestly, I think I agree. Both brands feel elevated without becoming inaccessible, staying true to their ethos while still pushing things forward.

For me, this was an absolute hit. But, saying that, it would be nice to see Kiichiro bring back some of that risk-taking from previous collections, paired with the confidence he’s built over the last few years.

Credits:
Words by Chris Maradiaga
Photography by Peter Sherno

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Thank you for your support.

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(Last Edited, 9AM PST — July 6th: Hyperlinks, changes to a few sentences. I’m still tired and jet-lagged from this trip, sue me.)

Letter from the Editor

While this interview was being formatted by our contributing writer, I had the pleasure of visiting John Ro at his showroom during Paris Fashion Week SS27 to see the collection in person, while also having a friend of mine, Mackai Sharp, photograph the space for this piece.

The reason I keep coming back to De Dam Foundation, and why I’ve desperately wanted to own one of John’s pieces, is because of his commitment to quality in his collections. That, and our conversations never cease to amaze me. He’s one of the more honest, open, and knowledgeable people I’ve met throughout my trips to Paris Fashion Week.

He’s also known as Porsche Guy, but we can dive into that at a later date.

As for the result of that commitment to quality, well, you get a beautifully made collection, consisting of clothes that feel like luxury without ever feeling overdone, or over-designed. All while simultaneously being able to flatter a wide-range of body types through his one-size-fits-all sizing. He prides himself on the fabrics he uses, sourcing the majority of them from Italy and Japan. This season, he introduced a few lightweight knits (seen below), all three being made in Italy through a small, family-run operation.

Out of curiosity, I asked him how it’s been working with this particular mill.

“It’s incredibly technical, knitwear is a completely different world compared to woven fabrics,” he says. “They’ve been invaluable in helping me develop these pieces.”

SS27 introduces a welcome dose of colour to De Dam Foundation. One of my favourites was a butter-yellow jacket that sat somewhere between a classic chore coat and an artist’s smock. That, alongside the lightweight linen sweaters, which come in washed grey, navy, and brown, were among the highlights of the collection. John also showed me a standing-collar zip blouson (message me for pics u lil freak), which I believe was cut from a lightweight black wool. If he’d had an extra sample lying around, I probably would’ve walked ran out of the showroom wearing it.

The collection strikes this satisfying balance between luxury and practicality. Everything feels sharp and sophisticated, yet these are garms you can wear in almost any setting, rain or shine. Well, ideally not rain, but you get what I’m saying.

The season-less approach is something I’ve noticed from several smaller designers over the last six months. Designers like Gabriela Coll and Gajiroc, both heavy hitters in the Duchump-verse, seem less interested in reinventing themselves every season, and instead, prefer building collections that naturally integrate with one another. Refining existing silhouettes through new fabrics, subtle construction changes, and thoughtful finishing details.

When I asked John where his inspiration comes from, he explained that each collection begins with a different aspect of Dutch culture and how it can be translated into clothing.

“Every collection I’ve brought to Paris since SS26 has started from a different piece of Dutch culture. The first collection looked at Dutch fishermen’s clothing. I found it interesting because people often associate wide, baggy workwear with Japan, and while Japanese workwear has absolutely been influential, Dutch fishermen in the 1800s also wore incredibly wide trousers because they needed flexibility while working on boats. It was entirely based on practicality.”

That sense of practicality is important to the Dutch, and it appears to be rubbing off on John. The Dutch are honest, straightforward, and don’t have much time for bullshit. “I’ve been told I’m very direct too,” he laughs. “I think living in the Netherlands made me that way. I wasn’t like that when I lived in Korea.”

It’s also one of the many reasons I enjoy spending time with John. There’s no room for fluff. We can be direct with one another, have honest conversations, and move on. It’s refreshing, especially when you’re working in an industry that can sometimes feel like you’re constantly walking on eggshells.

I’m excited to see where De Dam Foundation goes from here. Having seen John’s last two collections, and after hearing the amount of thought, research, and care that goes into each collection, I won’t be surprised if he starts turning more heads real soon.

All in due time.

- Chris

Interview by Edward Luetkehoelter
Photography by Mackai Sharp

As we head into the endless bustle of Fashion Week, throngs of Blazy/Chanel acolytes bumping into one another and trying to get into afters, we figured it would be worth chatting with someone whose work behaves as a foil to the rush. For this, John Ro is the man.

As Founder and Creative Director of De Dam Foundation, his work upends the conventions of ready-to-wear by offering all his garments in a single, one-size-fits-all unisex cut, all while being grounded in a curious and deeply social inclination towards the many intricacies of Dutch culture.

He also offers some of the best trousers and blousons on the market, and an invariably sunny disposition. Talking to him was the highlight of my day, and, if you had the chance to visit his showroom in Paris, I know you’ll feel the same.

We chatted about Dutch fishermen chopping up their clothes and turning polder fields into trench coats.

How’s your day going?

John: I’ve been quite busy, I would say. It’s all those last minute preparations for Paris. Picked up these window stickers that I had to put my logo on, and the dates on it, etc. Had to do some last minute shopping to set up the showroom.

Also, about an hour ago, before I had dinner, I was looking at some fabrics for the next season.

I’m trying to stay a little ahead of schedule because it’s a one person brand. I won’t survive if I don’t have a structured plan before entering a season. Luckily, I already have an idea of what I want to make. Design will hopefully shape a little more in July and I could start patterning it.

Is it too early to share what that inspiration is?

John: No, I can share a little.

A lot of my inspiration comes from the Netherlands. AW27 will continue SS27’s Dutch coziness theme, but expressed through a different setting.

I find a lot of interesting aspects in Dutch culture, especially the way people used to dress here. Before the Netherlands became as modern as it is today, there were many more traditional industries. There’s a rich history of agriculture, textiles, architecture, and design in this country. Those professions are still here, of course, but industries like textiles and agriculture have changed quite a bit over time.

In the Netherlands, especially in agricultural regions, people had very distinct ways of dressing. Their workwear was designed with purpose and function. Dutch fishermen’s trousers, for example, were intentionally made very wide because they needed freedom of movement while they worked. Although it was workwear, you could still wear it to social occasions because it never looked like clothing that was only meant for work.

I really love that idea. A garment that can be worn for every occasion.

For AW27, I’m actually a little obsessed with the Dutch realist painter Anton Mauve. He painted many scenes of Dutch farming life and the clothing people wore during that period. I really love the colours he used in his paintings, and they’re going to play a big role in the palette for the next collection.

Is there going to be a lot of workwear materials then — denim and canvas?

John: I’m looking at some workwear materials like denim and canvas, but they’re only part of the picture.

My brand reimagines what people used to wear by bringing those familiar forms into a contemporary context. That means I mix sturdy workwear fabrics with more delicate natural fibres to explore how those garments might look and feel today. I work almost entirely with natural materials because that’s what you find in historical archives. There were no synthetics back then, and I like honouring that simplicity, using wool, cotton, and other long-lasting fibres keeps each piece grounded, durable, and able to age well over time.

For me, it’s about balancing refinement and practicality, reshaping everyday clothing for this century while preserving the qualities that made those garments timeless in the first place.

I was just looking at your Typewriter Shirt. It’s both a very hard-wearing product that is fitting for workwear, but it’s also something you could wear to the office because, well, it’s a really beautiful shirt.

Also, how do you spell that Dutch word for “cozy”?

John: G-E-Z-E-L-L-I-G.

I’ve really been impressed by your emphasis on the practical Dutch lifestyle.

One other thing that I think is going to be immediately apparent to anyone looking at your work is the genderless sizing and styling. What was the impetus behind that? How do you get that to work?

I imagine there’s some complex patterning involved. I saw with the pants there's a tucked away elasticized waistband.

John: Yeah, good question. Let’s start with the inspiration behind it.

My wife and I have been sharing clothes for years because we’re similar enough in size. She would borrow my sweaters, and I’d borrow pieces from her wardrobe. It made me realize how nice it is when garments aren’t restricted by gender. That experience really became the foundation for how I wanted to approach the brand.

There are some really great unisex brands out there with interesting pattern-making that accommodates different body shapes. I think pattern-making is one of the most important aspects of designing a unisex brand. When it came to sizing, I started looking into the history of it. I learned that standardized sizing is actually a very modern concept. Before the 1800s, there wasn’t really a sizing system at all. Early ready-to-wear sizing only emerged through military uniforms, and even then it was extremely limited.

When I researched Dutch fishermen for one of my first collections, I found the same thing. Their jackets and knitwear weren’t sized in the way we think about sizing today. People wore what was available, adjusted it, altered it, and used it for work. Clothing was utilitarian and purposeful, it wasn’t categorized.

I wanted to bring some of that spirit into my own designs.

Making everything one size certainly simplifies production, but it actually makes the pattern-making much more complex. You have to make sure the garment feels intentional, rather than looking like someone is simply wearing a shirt that’s too big for them. With the Typewriter Shirt you mentioned, for example, I added pleats across the back panel to control the volume, and enlarged the yoke so the shoulders and back sit more naturally. Those small decisions help the shirt work across different body types.

I also build adjustability into many of the garments. Jackets have elastic or adjustable waistbands so the wearer can shape the fit themselves. The trousers use an elastic waistband for the same reason. Those details allow the garments to adapt to the body, rather than forcing the body to adapt to a fixed size.

Ultimately, the goal is to create clothing that’s adaptable and comfortable, while still being carefully patterned with a refined silhouette.

You mentioned Dutch fishermen earlier as the inspiration for your first collection. Was there a lot of historical research there?

John: Yeah, for sure. A lot of book-reading on that topic. I’m a bit of a history geek, so once I start reading about a topi,c I get completely absorbed in it.

To get some interesting facts about the Netherlands, I also learned a surprising amount from boat tours. The older guides who run them always share these funny, sometimes questionable, but very charming, stories about the Netherlands. Those little details helped me understand the atmosphere of the place in a different way.

I’ve lived here for quite a while, but coming from South Korea gives me a slightly different perspective. I think that mix of distance and curiosity helped me see Dutch culture with a bit of fresh eyes, which shaped the direction of the brand.

It’s interesting that you bring up fishermen’s tales. Stories that may or may not be true. In a way, I think that says a lot more about any given culture than just the facts themselves.

Your website mentions an architectural element to your clothing, and I think it really fits that bill. They’re functional and built to be lived in by all sorts of different people, given your unisex sizing.

How do you find architecture informs your work?

John: Dutch architecture has always influenced the way I think about clothing. The culture here is really focused on practicality and usability. Buildings are designed to be lived in, not to show off.

There’s a preference for straight lines because curves often create dead space that cannot be used. That mindset translates naturally into how I design garments. I think clothing should work the same way. There are incredible, expressive designs out there, especially during fashion week, but for me, a garment still needs to be wearable.

Dutch architecture is straightforward and functional, and I want my clothes to carry that same idea. They should feel purposeful, adaptable, and easy to live in, while still being thoughtfully constructed.

At the same time, there’s also a landscape-informed approach to your design process, especially for your capsule collection De Polder. Could you tell me a little more about that?

John: Definitely.

The trench coat was inspired by the Dutch polders. If you’ve been to the Netherlands, you know how incredibly flat the landscape is. These flatlands are called polders, and they have a very particular atmosphere. My friends Joachim and Chris run a creative agency called Another Something, and they suggested doing a collaboration based on that landscape, and the idea immediately made sense to me.

At the time, I was developing a trench coat pattern, and I kept imagining a solitary figure walking across the polder. It can feel very isolating out there, especially when it rains, which is often. That image shaped the direction of the coat.

We chose a colour that reflects the mood of the landscape, a greenish khaki with a subtle orange hue. On dark, rainy days the fabric looks deep and muted, but when sunlight hits it, it becomes something else entirely. There’s a gentle sheen created by an orange thread woven into the fabric, giving it a warm reflection in the light.

The goal of that capsule was to capture the feeling of the polder itself, that shift between bleakness and quiet beauty, and translate it into a garment.

I’d imagine these are garments you could eventually pass down as heirlooms. They’re meant to last a long time and fit many different people.

John: Yes.

When I look at my own wardrobe, the pieces that have stayed with me the longest have always been the simple, classic ones. I went through phases of sneakers and streetwear, but those were very trend driven. The things I still wear today are pieces like an old Barbour jacket that I bought fifteen years ago. It’s not flashy, but it’s lasted, and it still feels right.

The core principle of any garment is that it should be something you can wear whenever you want, and that it should fit naturally into anyone’s wardrobe. That idea connects to the unisex and one-size approach that De Dam is going for as well. One size can be tricky to get right, but once someone trusts the fit of a brand, they tend to stay with it.

My goal is simply to create pieces that feel timeless, adaptable, and long-lasting, so they can live with someone for many years.

You have a very refined scope of clothing. You have one button-up shirt, and it’s great. You have a trench coat, and it’s great. You have a handful of trousers, and they’re all great.

How do you decide which garments you’re actually going to produce while keeping the catalogue so focused?

John: I usually begin by sketching a lot of ideas before making anything.

For AW26, the inspiration came from the way Dutch architects dressed. I looked at how architects in the early 1900s wore their garments on construction sites, in their offices, and at public events to understand the practicality behind their choices.

Someone like Gerrit Rietveld, who designed furniture and buildings with a strong focus on function, made me think about what he himself might have worn. I imagined he would choose clothing that served multiple purposes and supported his work.

That mindset helped shape the pieces in the collection, and it turned out to be true!

Architects back then really were wearing very simple garments that worked for almost every occasion. Their clothing was practical and unfussy, which confirmed the direction I was imagining for this collection. I also spoke with current architects today, including a close friend of mine, to understand how architectural work has changed, and what they actually wear today. They used to be on-site much more, but now, most of the work happens behind a computer.

I asked them what their ideal garment would be today, and from there I designed pieces that could fit into the modern world, while still referencing the past.

For SS27, I spent a lot of time talking with Dutch people about their gezellig moments. I wanted to understand what they wear to those occasions, from casual gatherings to events.

One piece I’m excited about is a tracksuit. Dutch people love football, and comfortable tracksuits are something they wear everywhere, from the supermarket to grabbing a beer. I wanted to re-interpret that and create a more refined, luxury version of something so familiar.

That is how I decide what to design and make. I keep the catalog small by focusing on pieces that feel culturally rooted, relevant to the theme, and genuinely wearable today.

The materials you use seem fantastic. I noticed the vast majority of your textiles are from Japan, aside from an Italian fleece, and you recurrently use buffalo horn from Germany

Have you built relationships with the same mills and producers, or do you tend to switch things up each season?

John: For buttons, I always work with the same supplier in Germany. I found them early on, and they were very easy to work with in terms of minimum orders. The quality is great, and I love the design. The button is very flat with a bit of volume at the edges, which makes it minimal, but still easy to use. It is a small detail, but to me it feels perfectly designed.

With fabrics, it depends entirely on what I’m looking for each season. I order a lot of swatches to see how the material actually feels and how it works with my sketches. I don’t stick to one mill, although certain regions are known for specific strengths. Italy is incredible for wool, especially suiting and coat fabrics.

I also work with regional fabric agents who help source materials from different mills. At the moment I have two agents in Italy, one in France, one in Japan, and one in Korea, and they send me a wide range of options to explore.

I’ve worked with them for quite a while now, and they’re amazing. They know what I like, so their recommendations are usually very good.

How many people work under De Dam Foundation?

John: It’s Dam small. (laughs)

It’s a very small operation, mostly just me.

I handle all the design work, and although I used to do all of the pattern-making myself, there is simply too much to manage now as the collection is growing, so I work together with a pattern-maker in South Korea. I also collaborate with manufacturers who help with sampling and production.

Everything else, from the design process to packing and shipping, comes directly from me.

When someone orders from De Dam Foundation, they’re receiving something that is fully prepared by me. That part of the process is something I genuinely enjoy. It feels good to send out something I have created from start to finish. That's the part I think that I enjoy the most out of the brand. It feels really good to be able to showcase what I've done, you know?

Is there anything else you’d like to cover?

John: One thing I find interesting about the brand is the perspective behind it.

I’m a Korean designer running a brand inspired by Dutch culture, so I’m not the most traditional representative of the Netherland, but I think that’s exactly what gives me a unique perspective. When I started the brand, I noticed that many well‑known Dutch labels, like Patta, are incredible but often focus on different themes. There were not many brands talking about the Netherlands itself.

It’s known for more than just tulips.

That is what motivated me. I wanted to explore Dutch culture from my own point of view. Because I am a bit of an outsider, I tend to notice small details that people who grew up here might overlook, or take for granted.

That mix of distance and curiosity is what shapes the identity of the brand.

I just noticed the Helvetica book on your shelf. Dutch typoface is such an important part of design history. Have you pulled any inspiration from that?

Your clothing feels similar in a way. It’s kind of modular, kind of architectural.

John: I wouldn’t say my clothes are modular in a literal sense, but I do think a lot about how each season connects to the next.

I try to keep the colour palettes consistent so that pieces from different seasons can be worn together. I often see big brands create incredible collections, but the seasons shift so dramatically that you can’t always match something you bought last year with what they release now.

I want to avoid that.

If you buy something from me this season, it should still work with something from two seasons ago. In that sense, the collection becomes modular. Each season introduces something new, but it should feel like a natural addition to your existing wardrobe. I also know that people will mix my pieces with other brands, which is completely normal. Someone might wear pants from a different brand and pair them with one of my shirts.

My goal is to make clothes that blend easily and feel timeless, because that is what helps a garment stay in your wardrobe for a long time.

• Gerrit Rietveld image courtesy of SCP (Sheridan Coakley Products).
• Zig-Zag Chair image courtesy of Le Centerpiece.

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After nine hours in the air, eating questionable airline food, collecting my luggage, and making my way to my BnB in 40-degree weather, it was hard to feel excited about Paris Fashion Week. The days ahead suddenly felt a little daunting, already exhausted.

Knowing this, I booked an appointment with Gajiroc on my very first day. The conversations I have there are always calming, and it felt like the perfect way to ease into the week. Rather than rushing into the chaos or aimlessly wandering Paris alongside waves of tourists, I wanted to begin somewhere familiar, somewhere that helped me settle into the rhythm of it all.

While most may think fashion week is constant chaos, and it is, there are pockets where time slows down. You can breathe, take the space you need.

Yes, you’re surrounded by beautifully made clothes, but my appointments are rarely just about the garments. They’re about catching up with people I’ve gotten to know over previous seasons, asking how they’ve been, what’s new in their lives, and simply checking in. It’s that sense of community that keeps bringing me back. As much as I love discovering new brands, I also value the friendships that come with them. The human element is just as important as the clothes themselves.

Saying that, this season I received an increase of invitations to runway shows. While the schedule was still packed with showroom appointments from brands like De Dam Foundation, Irenisa, Sororam, Sine & Cosine, and a handful of others, I also received invitations to larger-scale productions from Kiko Kostadinov, Auralee, Soshiotsuki, and more.

It’s still surreal being seated as press alongside people I’ve looked up to for years. (I kept running into Edward Buchanan throughout the week, we were practically following each other from venue to venue.) It’s a genuine privilege to attend Paris Fashion Week, cover these collections, and spend time with the people behind them. A few years ago, I never would’ve imagined this would become part of my life, but it’s now become a side-job of sorts.

As always, thank you for reading and supporting what I’m building here. Enough of the sentimental shit though, let’s talk about clothes.

(Sidenote: I didn't include Auralee in this round-up because I wrote a separate review of the collection, which you can find here.)

Day 1 — Gajiroc

The collection itself felt light, with Gi Tae introducing more shades of blue throughout (keep this in mind). It reminded me of a Matisse painting, the kind of blue that’s subtle, yet somehow lingers in your mind long after you’ve left.

This sounds romantic. Am I ….. Parisian?

(Answer: No)

I found myself returning to the Windowpane Long Sleeve Shirt, cut from handwoven Indian cotton in a rich navy, with delicate three-line details stitched in sporadically by hand. Running my fingers through it, wishing I were wearing that instead. Alongside the Blue Kelsch Cyclist Jacket and the Apricot Plaid Wool Long Sleeve Shirt (the latter crafted from Japanese deadstock wool dating back to the early 2000s), it was another reminder of how sharp Gi Tae’s has already become.

Despite the label still being so young, his ability to source exceptional fabrics and build thoughtful garments continues to stand out.

Gajiroc remains a staple of every Paris trip. Each season, Gi Tae’s work grows stronger, but more importantly, every visit feels a little less like catching up with a designer and a little more like catching up with a friend.

Reverberate

Kensuke Hoshi, founder and designer of the Japanese label, met me at the door with open arms and a cold bottle of Perrier. If it weren’t for that drink, I might’ve (definitely) fainted in the showroom. Not exactly the look you want as press, though I suppose it adds character. The collection is titled Control/Un-Control, and Kensuke described it as an exploration of what happens when a tightly controlled pattern-making process and stitching meets unpredictable fabrics, and that’s exactly what he delivered.

If this were an art show, it would sit somewhere between fashion and a mixed-media installation.

One standout set, a lightweight jacket and matching shorts, was made from soft wool and hand-painted from top to bottom, adding a second layer of texture and character. It’s not a new idea in itself, but the execution carried a restraint and clarity that felt considered, almost Margiela-esque.

The rest of the collection moved through linens, organic cottons, and a strong range of tailoring, from Texas-toast brown suiting to a brilliant leather blazer/jacket (seen in my latest IG post) that would have you sweating in any climate m. It reminded of Willem Defoe’s look in Grand Budapest Hotel, something I’d trade a kidney for.

Day 2 — The Saturday Project

Day 2 started with a visit to Good People Showroom to see The Saturday Project, a Canadian brand by two of the most wonderful people (Adam and Grace), both based in Victoria and friends of mine. It’s been special seeing how much the brand has grown since I first met them ages ago. The collection feels really cohesive overall, sleek, considered, but with just enough detail to make it feel intentional rather than minimal.

There was one piece in particular that stood out to me: a light pink, almost blush-toned jacket. Keep that colour in mind as well, because it was the first of many I ended up seeing throughout the week — soft pinks, muted blushes, those subtle tones that seem to be quietly buzzing through menswear at the moment.

Another standout was a 100% linen, undyed shirt made in Japan and dew-retted in Belgium. Upon further inspection, I noticed it had these small yellow flecks throughout the fabric. They come from the flowers and stalks used in the process of producing the textile. It’s a small detail, but it shifts the piece from something more uniform into something with a bit of sentiment behind it.

Adam’s creative direction feels more confident each passing season, and I’m eager to see what he’s got in store for FW. Don’t sleep on them.

Carter Young

There’s nothing better than seeing someone giddy about their work. Carter Altman, one of the first people to give me a chance when I was starting out, presented a collection he was so obviously proud of, and rightly so. You could feel that excitement throughout our conversation.

The colour palette was cohesive, the fabric selection thoughtful, and the imagery accompanying the collection couldn’t have suited it better. Everything clicked, the stars aligned perfectly on this one.

A personal highlight was the cherry red zip blouson that I really wanted to steal, but ultimately decided against because I wasn’t too keen on being imprisoned in France. The knitwear was another standout, exaggerated in all the right ways while remaining incredibly wearable, making for the ideal layering piece regardless of what season you’re in.

Also, I have to bring up the denim. Every pair had the peeeeeeerfect fade to it, like Altman had worn them himself until it reached its prime state, then decided to pass them on to you. Saves you from doing all the hard work yourself.

The shirting and jackets were another two of Carter’s strongest categories. The sheer wool shirt this season struck this perfect balance between sophistication and sluttiness. I actually told Carter of this lovely mix — it’s the kind of shirt that makes you want to walk up to someone, say, “I have a Criterion account,” while showing a subtle, confident sense of sex appeal.

That’s Carter Young at his best.

Not the sluttiness part (lol), but seeing a designer completely in the zone, creating a thoughtful, confident take on modern Americana. You can tell that every decision was made with intention, from the fabrics to the proportions, and everything in-between.

It’s a wonderful thing watching a designer enter their flow state.

Amomento

If I can be fully completely transparent, there wasn’t anything particularly extraordinary here, and I was kind of expecting that. I’ve known the brand for some time now, and it’s never really been one that I look to when I want to feel inspired, or see some new approach to design, styling, or silhouette.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly how I felt walking through the presentation.

Truthfully, I found the setting and overall atmosphere more inspiring than the collection itself. It was largely made up of familiar pieces we’ve seen before — nylon flight jackets, poly overcoats, cotton shirts that loosely resemble Lemaire’s, clean everyday staples, and the kind of wardrobe basics Amomento has become known for. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, but I also don’t know if there was enough here to justify presenting it in this format. The only thing that really stood out to me were these lace-boots that blended traits of a combat boot with a traditional boxing shoe.

It’s just very Amomento. If you’ve followed the brand for any length of time, you more or less know what you’re getting, and this season didn’t really challenge that expectation. The drinks downstairs gave me more life than the collection did, if that says anything.

Snoozefest.

Toward(s)

This was easily one of the standouts of the season.

Formerly known as Outbreak Lab, and a brand I’ve interviewed before, Toward(s) has undergone, stylistically, a pretty dramatic shift. Their earlier collections leaned into a more futuristic aesthetic, almost Kiko Kostadinov-adjacent at times, with technical zip jackets and hardware inspired by NASA imagery, including buttons modelled after moon rocks and meteorites.

Since the rebrand though, the work feels far more grounded. The collection is rooted in traditional craftsmanship and dyeing techniques, while also feeling significantly more wearable than what came before. Instead of chasing futuristic silhouettes, Divyam has turned his attention to the past, presenting beautifully cut zip jackets, welt shirts, overcoats, and garments treated with historical Indian mud-dyeing and natural dyeing techniques.

They’re pieces made for the present, built to last well into the future, yet shaped by methods that have existed for generations. Inspiring.

One of the more fascinating details Divyam shared was that much of the dyeing process was informed by a book he found from the 1980s documenting traditional techniques. That level of research is reflected throughout the collection. Every fabric, dye treatment, and pattern feels incredibly deliberate. Nothing exists simply because it looks interesting — everything has a purpose.

There’s a reason why Toward(s) has become one of the more talked-about brands during Paris Fashion Week, and after seeing this collection in person, I completely understand why. With a strong showing for FW26, and another brilliant collection this season, Divyam has firmly established himself as one of my must-see brands in Paris.

What impressed me most wasn’t just the craftsmanship, but the scale of it all. Divyam told me the collection consists of roughly 150 individuals SKUs. Considering the number of custom fabrics, the extensive dye work, and the variety of cuts being developed simultaneously, that’s honestly difficult to comprehend.

Most brands would struggle to maintain this level of consistency across a collection half that size, yet after handling each garment, I can confidently say the quality never slipped. I genuinely don’t know how he’s managed to pull this off.

Notes:

• Divyam showed me an image of an artisan using their own body as a structure rather than a conventional loom, the textile stretched across their lap and legs as each thread was manipulated by hand. It was probably the most insane thing I'd seen all week, but it speaks to just how deeply he immerses himself in these traditions — not simply borrowing from them, but taking the time to understand and respect the craft behind them.

• Named after the Japanese word for boat, B.O.T.O. brought in solid attention this season, and it comes as no surprise considering their shows are a modern, playful twist on a classic boat shoe. Their River Lace in Matcha remains at the tippy top of shoes I’d love to own — too bad they’re all outta my size.

  

• I had to miss the Literary Sport/Xero Shoes event as I was switching BnBs, but after looking at Louis’ dogs, I can confidently say I absolutely need a pair. For context, Literary Sport partnered with Xero Shoes to release an updated rendition of their Genesis barefoot sandal. No qualms, no notes — it’s a need.

• There are rumblings of businesses opting out of working with Korean designers because their garments are made in Korea, which is quite disappointing. There seems to be a stigma that made in Korea means of lesser quality, when there are several designers proving otherwise.

• One particular creator has been called out by various people I know. Whether it’s weird interactions at their event, making inane observations online, sending passive-aggressive DMs, or openly admitting that their goal is to monetize every aspect of their life — including their children. They’re a prime example of everything wrong with content creation. Sir, no one wants to attend your brand dinner, and no one uses the term “fam” anymore. Especially if you’re over the age of 30, ain’t nothing Sprezzatura about that.

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Paris Fashion Week SS27

And just like that, we’ve returned to Paris for SS27.

Unfortunately it seems like my trips to the city of love cannot occur without something going wrong. For those that may have forgotten, when I had visited for FW26, I had experienced the following:

• Delayed flights to Paris

• Luggage was lost for 3.5/4 days for a 7 day trip

• Once my luggage was returned, and I headed up to my BnB, I discovered that I had lost the apartment key as some point during the day

• Cancelled flight back home

• Stayed in a 2/10 hotel that looked like a set for a Polish horror film

• Caught the flu and was sick for two-or-so weeks afterwards

This time around, I’ve had to bounce between three BnBs due to cancellations, and it’s only my third day here. So, it’s very clear that someone’s put a curse on me and does not want me to succeed, but jokes on you, I’m going to keep pushing. Though, I’ve only had a total of 3 hours of sleep, maybe less, since boarding my flight on Monday the 22nd.

Oh, it’s also fucking scorching, in case you weren’t aware. I haven’t really felt the heat while walking around the city — not until I hit a full stop. That’s when I’ll realize that I resemble the Jordan Peele sweating meme, and have to squidgy my head. Actually, I did exactly this in front of the press outside Auralee’s presentation, and I believe it was captured on camera.

If anyone of you spot me on any fashion-related sites that post street-style photographs before shows, please let me know. I’d love to see how shiny my head looks.

Anyway, I’ve kicked things off with my review on Auralee’s latest collection for SS27, and I’ve got several more posts on the way covering my days. As always, despite loving several of the brands I’m seeing, I’m not going to sugarcoat anything for the sake of being invited back. It’s my opinion, and I’m sticking to it — though I’ve also been roasting in the 40-degree heat, so my apologies if it’s messy.

Auralee SS27

Auralee has become one of the defining fixtures of the Paris Fashion Week schedule, so it’s safe to say I was disappointed by SS27.

This was my first time attending an Auralee show after several attempts to secure an invitation. Time and time again, I was told I was too late, that the guest list was full, or that capacity had been reached. Then, potentially due to some cosmic alignment I’ve got no business in understanding, I was finally invited to see Ryota Iwai’s SS27 collection in the flesh.

Naturally, this came with a certain level of anticipation. Given the momentum surrounding Japanese menswear, being able to properly experience Auralee’s work (the styling, fabrics, textures, and layering) felt significant. Up until now, my relationship with the brand had largely been through lookbooks, runway imagery, and the scattered deliveries arriving at retailers months later.

I left feeling underwhelmed. Oh, and still sweating.

There were several lulls throughout the collection, ones that could pass for being well-styled, but still a letdown. Not every look needs to be groundbreaking, nor does every collection need to reinvent the wheel, but at the very least I’d like to see some sort of evolution after each season. Instead, SS27 felt like a collection from a brand that has hit a creative wall. As a whole, it felt stagnant.

The usual Auralee-isms were all there. The colour palettes were pleasant, and there were moments where the styling felt familiar in a comforting way. Their closing look consisted of a red oversized coat, paired with purple trousers, which created this adorable marriage of primary colours. It was was quite charming at first, but even moments like that felt less impactful than they might have a few seasons ago. What once felt distinct is beginning to feel expected, and it sounds like I’m not the only one feeling this way.

We also saw a leather three-pocket chore jacket with metal buttons, paired with what looked like garment-dyed teal denim, potentially one of their classic silk blue button-ups, and brown sandals. It was nice, genuinely nice, but that’s kind of the issue.

My reaction wasn’t anything beyond, “Yeah, that’s Auralee.”

There’s obviously value in having such a recognizable design language. Very few brands have managed to establish an identity as clearly as Auralee has. However, once you’ve established that language, you would hope there would be a forward motion in evolution to further expand your language, and not running in a circle. It feels like the brand is speaking in the same voice season after season.

The accessories were probably where I found the most enjoyment. Alongside the classic pair of flip-flops tucked into bags, and the neck-hanging wallets, there were bracelets, charms, and anklets that felt oddly nostalgic. They reminded me of the sort of friendship trinkets you’d exchange before summer break as a kid, or something you’d pass onto your crush to keep the fire going. Something you’d make for a friend before disappearing on family vacation for two months and writing “H.A.G.S.” in their yearbook before the final bell rings and summer break begins.

Those details added a level of wholesomeness to the collection, and honestly, I wish there had been more moments like that. Because that’s ultimately where I land with SS27. It was pleasant, but at this point, that doesn’t feel enough anymore. I don’t expect Auralee to suddenly become experimental or radically different, especially for a spring/summer collection, but I do expect some kind of progression. Something that makes me feel as though the brand is still moving somewhere, something that will keep me on my toes and want more.

Instead, the collection left me asking a question I’ve started asking about a few brands lately, including ssstein:

Have we peaked? (probs not)

The womenswear didn’t do much to answer that question either. Much of it felt fairly straightforward, almost to a fault. There was one particular dress with an open back that I didn’t find particularly flattering, and don’t really see being a hit with anyone. After the event, I spoke to one of my favourite stylists currently in the game, and they agreed that the womenswear side of things lacks a certain oomph, and that it should be more-so styled like their menswear to add more wow-factor. It seems that when Auralee tries to lean too heavily on what they believe is styling for women, it ends up falling flat.

All this to say, there was one look that featured a red waffle-knit hoodie layered over what appeared to be a sheer silk shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons, paired with an orange leather skirt and beige flip-flops. It was playful, charming, and one of the few looks that genuinely stuck with me after the show. At the same time, it also felt incredibly specific, and perhaps that’s what Auralee is increasingly becoming.

In Japan, Auralee functions as an everyday brand. It’s something people can throw on without thinking twice, with this inane attention to detail and prioritizing fabric quality of quantity. In North America, however, that’s often not the case. Between the pricing, availability, and occasionally inconsistent sizing, the brand feels increasingly distant, with people with bodies like mine often feeling disillusioned by the brand.

As a result, there’s this strange tension where Auralee is becoming both more exclusive (limited stock, less inclusive sizing) and more repetitive at the same time.

Overall, I’m grateful to have finally attended the show and honoured to have received an invitation. I just wish it had been attached to a stronger collection. I’d love to see what Auralee does in January, as their F/W collections is where I personally find the brand at their best. SS27, however, feels like the beginning of a larger conversation about where the brand currently stands.

Auralee’s customer base isn’t going anywhere. The loyalty is there, the appreciation is there. What I’m less certain about is the excitement, because if the next few collections continue down this path, it feels as though Auralee risks becoming something different entirely. Less of a brand people are excited to discover, and more a brand people simply expect to be there. And maybe that’s the real question after SS27.

Not whether Auralee is still good, but whether Auralee is still growing.

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Before We Begin

Somehow, over the past two years, I’ve always managed to pick a film to watch during my flight that has a prolonged sex scene. There’s something uncomfortable about watching any kind of sex scene next to complete strangers. The last film I watched featuring this was Wall Street which, if you don’t know already, has a top-tier soundtrack as it features several tracks from My Life In The Bush of Ghosts by David Byrne and Brian Eno — a forever S-tier album.

Anyway, I just felt like sharing that.

In case you missed it, I wrote an article for Highsnobiety covering big shorts. My original intention was to write about the brands I like, and the ones I’d personally wear today as someone that leans heavily toward the big short end of the spectrum.

With this post, I’ve highlighted several big shorts I’d actually wear. I’m aiming for something lightweight, breathable, ideally linen, and ready for summer. Though I’m always down to get freaky and try something new.

But first, a few thoughts.

Satisfy x Adidas: The Tech-Bro Collab

Satisfy released their campaign with Adidas titled, well, something. I’m too lazy to search it up.

But, I can tell you that it felt like a corporate takeover of hardcore punk aesthetics and beliefs. As an outsider looking in, with loose ties to punk and the various subgenres tied to it from growing up around the music, it’s honestly laughable seeing how Brice Partouche utilizes anti-establishment and anti-capitalist imagery to sell product.

Even during the drama with Running Supply — or whatever that other running company was called, there are too many elevated running or luxe activewear brands to keep up with now — Brice used Fugazi lyrics in a story while calling out the competing designer, even though Fugazi would absolutely despise everything this brand represents.

You cannot position yourself as anti-system while charging nearly $500 CAD for trail-running shoes that most actual runners seem to agree are mediocre.

Truthfully, Brice now reminds me of any tech-entrepreneur that’s trying to schmooze you for your money by coming across as hardcore, edgy, and against the system. You now, the type of Silicon Valley entrepreneurs that say a product is revolutionary, and will inevitably break the system, when really it’s just going to destroy our environment, pollute our water, lead to illness, etc.

As a consumer, I do like Satisfy — I just haven’t been able to justify the price for any of their garments.

Now, it’s hard to shake the feeling that buying from the brand would just further this guy’s descent into some kind of big-tech-guru madness. I no longer see a brand that’s looking to further the design of activewear, but a brand that’s profiting off the disguise that they are.

I’m also quite tired of this mass-yassification of running, for the lack of a better term, culture, if you will. While brands like Literary Sport intrigue me, (I genuinely like the campaigns, creative direction, and collections) I do feel a bit sick seeing activewear priced the same as half your rent.

Listen, it’s cool that you’re bringing premium design elements into fabric sourcing and construction. However, I don’t need to be wearing a $300 shirt, or $600 running jacket while I’m sweating profusely and making the most un-arousing facial expressions imaginable during a run. Well, okay, they’re not un-arousing, but they’re not great.

As someone that’s been taking their health more seriously recently, I’ve also started noticing the toxicity within wellness culture more and more. Individuals turning marathons into campaigns and product-heavy reels, only to stand in the way of people trying to hit a new PR. Or creators using hiking as content fodder while simultaneously bragging about making half-a-million dollars and posting endless shopping sprees, all while trying to come across humble and human when they’re anything but.

The activewear side of fashion, and the communities around it, have become deeply corrupted. Which makes it refreshing seeing the few people blending fashion and movement in healthier, more genuine ways.

Unfortunately, they’re usually the ones grinding for years to build an audience, while those at the tippy-top, with zero positive intentions toward anyone but themselves, continue to thrive with ease.

Brands Currently On My Watchlist

This month, or past few months, have been pretty bad. I remember saying SS26 ain’t gonna do shit for me, yet here I am making numerous purchases to the point where I simultaneously feel content with my wardrobe, and foul for spending an absurd amount of money.

Read more

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Quick Thought on Anonymity

There are periods where I simply do not have the patience for anything related to fashion. It could just be me getting older and finding pleasure in other things. Right now, I’m obsessed with 98.12.28 Otokotachi no Wakare by Fishmans, Yu Su’s latest release, and Ambeesh by Sa Pa. The latter was mentioned in ’s latest post.

But it’s also due to the ridiculousness fashion attracts, especially from individuals like the one below, where “ranting” comes across more like some testosterone-heavy chest beating than an actual point being made.

Discussions in fashion are always welcomed, and I’m all for deep-diving into a specific brand or designer, but I feel like social media has completely gutted any form of decent conversation around clothes, though this can be said for almost anything now (politics, films, music, etc).

It’s all become rageslop.

I recently read a piece about how we’ve become obsessed with reclusiveness in fashion, and how brands like The Row became hot commodities partly because of their elusiveness and mystery. We rarely see Mary-Kate Olsen and Ashley Olsen in public (though that changed recently, and it lit the internet on fire), nor can you bring your phone to any of their shows. No photos from journalists, buyers, anyone.

You’ll see it when it hits Vogue, but until then, shhhhhhh.

We’ve all become so dialed in online that anything opposite to our chronically online behaviour suddenly becomes desirable. People wondering where the twins are, or back when Martin Margiela was helming his brand, and even now, people still want to see him, know what he’s up to, hear from him, anything.

We’re so tethered to the internet that disconnecting from it feels almost impossible at times. Yet instead of trying to untether ourselves, we become obsessed with those who already have.

As I get older, I realize anonymity is worth more than I ever gave it credit for. There’s a reason it takes me a minute to release posts, and it’s because I’m usually trying to spend my days outside, wandering around aimlessly, spending time with friends and family, just existing away from all of this.

There’s a reason many people who work in fashion completely clock out once the workday ends, and spend their time in nature. Even if you look at Dries Van Noten in the documentary Dries (reminds me of the Carson Clay bit from Mr. Bean’s Holiday); he’s foraging, gardening, and doing regular human shit. He’s living the dream.

Being so deep in fashion is exhausting, and in an industry that takes and takes while rarely giving back, you have to separate yourself from it personally.

Anyway, these are my thoughts before diving into today’s piece. I’d love to know how you feel about fashion commentary today, online communities, and your own relationship with fashion.

Introduction

Throughout my life there have been spaces, physical and virtual, I’ve either willingly stepped into, or unintentionally, possibly during my half-asleep scrolling sessions, that have given me what they call the ick. A few examples of this: Brandy Melville, The Kingdom Hall of Jehovah Witnesses, and for the past few years, though casually, r/ThrowingFits.

The ever-growing, or possibly now declining, subreddit — originally started as a way to discuss the popular podcast — has over 121K weekly visitors. Posts range from outfit advice, rating one’s fits, various posts on Our Legacy and mfpen, thoughts on a particular collection and, the topic of today’s post, an occasional thought-piece on a designer.

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Chatting with Izabella Doyle

If you log into Reddit, or any stock-related forum, you will see users asking what the next big stock is, where to invest. Whether it’s penny stocks, or something like GameStop, everyone’s watching, lurking, or engaging within the community, trying to catch what’ll boom. I’ve tried several, several times, only to crash out each and every time.

We’re constantly chasing the next big thing. Especially in fashion, where people are scurrying through shops, publications, or tapping tastemakers to see what they’re feeling right now. All in an attempt to figure out what’s next, what’ll be trending six months from now.

Why am I saying all this?

Because in the middle of all that, throughout my constant scrolling, digging, poking around, I came across a brand that, despite having a strong presence in Asia, remains surprisingly quiet outside of it. The kind of brand that feels like the next big thing before everyone else catches on. Unlike Gamestop, I feel like I’ve managed to get in early this time.

Wright + Doyle, the British label founded by Izabella Doyle and Matthew Wright, is one that genuinely stopped me in my tracks. I’ve mentioned them here and there before. How much I love their garments, the intentionality behind their fabric choices, the playfulness in the designs, and how, despite all of that, everything still feels refreshing, modern, and timeless.

It’s the kind of work that rewires your perspective on fashion. You start reflecting on what you’ve bought. Is it worth it? Where does it sit in your life? Temporary, or is it something you’ll actually hold onto?

I’ve had the pleasure of owning three pieces now. The Langhaus Jacket, Krefeld Jumper, and Kassel Trousers — the latter being my most recent pickup, and now my most cherished. For context, the Kassel’s construction features a deep front pleat that creates a sculptural silhouette, bringing a flare of the dramatic into something meant for everyday wear, while the raw-edge waistband adds a touch of grit to an otherwise beautifully elegant pair of trousers.

The feeling you get when throwing either one of these garments on is rare. A sense of being complete, in a way. It’s something that only really happens when there’s a genuine connection between you and what you’re wearing. Kind of like what someone at Burning Man would say about aligning your chakras.

Safe to say, mine are now aligned courtesy of Wright + Doyle.

During my trip to Men’s Fashion Week, I had the chance to meet Izabella at her showroom to see their FW26 collection. What I saw left me sweating, wondering what I could sell from my wardrobe to get my hands on a few of these pieces, with the leather jacket being my main target.

Bella showed an accompanying leather apron that, when paired with the jacket, feels almost like armour. “I put this on one night when I felt awful — long day, emotional — and instantly felt powerful,” she says. “Clothes should do that.”

It’s a gorgeous leather, the kind that immediately catches your eye, developed in collaboration with an atelier Bella has worked with for over 25 years, one that has produced for the likes of Christopher Kane, Burberry, and Mowalola. The idea for the jacket came after working on a bag with the same atelier, something personal she wanted for herself, before naturally evolving into something larger.

“They sent me all these materials,” she says. “It’s a tough material, so I wanted to introduce a bit of looseness. It ended up feeling like something between a gladiator’s apron and a butcher’s apron.”

That rawness carries throughout the collection, but this jacket is what ties it all together. A true showstopper.

“How long did it take to put this collection together?” I asked.

“Months and months,” Bella says. “I start developing fabrics about six months before we even begin the collection. Most of the mills I work with are exclusive, I design my own fabrics with them. Not everything, but a large portion.”

For example, one fabric comes from an old Italian suiting house that only produces lightweight tailoring. It was originally an archive piece, one they didn’t want to remake, but Bella committed to it for two seasons, bringing it back into production.

But what really pulls me in is the intentionality behind Bella’s choices. Her attention to detail, her approach to material. Everything feels considered, refined. She showed me a mulberry silk sourced from the Himalayas. “It feels incredible, but it’s almost too much,” she says. “It’s so luxurious it can feel overwhelming. I keep it on the inside, I don’t want that on the outside. Having it against your skin is what matters.”

Silks, wools, breathability, functionality. All key pillars in her work, forming a cohesive body of garments that left both myself, and several buyers, genuinely floored.

What’s most interesting though is the fit, something Bella clearly prides herself on. “I cut larger pieces in a way that allows them to drape on smaller bodies.” And you can feel that immediately when trying things on. A jacket cut for someone 6’1” can still sit beautifully on someone much smaller, sometimes even better.

“That’s something I think about a lot, how garments move between people.”

Movement matters. How something shifts when you walk, how it responds when you twist, turn. These are the details she obsesses over, and her background in pattern cutting is evident in every piece. It’s also why, after this past presentation, more people are beginning to take notice of her work.

With that, this collection is her most personal yet. “It starts with my father-in-law’s suit,” she says. “He passed away last year. He had this beautiful handmade 1970s suit, and I used the lapel from it as a reference.” From there, the story continues through her son, who has been practicing taekwondo. “He’s been doing taekwondo, and I bought him some uniforms while I was in California,” she says. “Watching him wear them, I thought, I need to bring this into the collection.”

Through this, she’s created a body of work that, through her experience and vulnerability, forms a thread connecting her father-in-law to her son. “The arc goes from my father-in-law, to my father, to my son. You can see that through the stitching, the construction, it’s all connected.”

Conversations like these remind me why I love fashion so much.

That level of connection and storytelling makes it clear how much care Bella puts into her work, and with so much fluff in the industry, it’s refreshing to see Wright + Doyle carve out their own space, creating garments that aren’t just clothes, but reflections of lived experience.

Both the joyful parts, and the heavier ones.

Additional Tidbits

Before signing off, here are a few things that have caught my eye recently + some news. Also, next What I’ve Bookmarked post drops this weekend. If you haven’t subscribed already, now’s your chance.

You’ll have access to past recommendations, and there are a few more early-access drops with Wallace Mercantile coming up. Next drop is William Frederick.

• I’m considering a trip out to Paris this June for coverage, though gas prices are pushing flight tickets way too high which is throwing me off a bit. Still TBD, but if we get a decent amount of invitations, then I’ll make it out.

• My quest to replace my Lemaire slippers may have finally come to an end, and it couldn’t come at a better time since they are officially dead (for now). I’m picking up the Oval Mocas by Hender Scheme in black/python. After seeing wearing them in Paris this January, I became immediately fixated and scoured the internet for a pair in my size. Well, it finally happened.

• I’m also considering the Libidos (insane name) by Hender Scheme. Tried them on yesterday and I’d like to pick them up, but I’ve yet to find $80,000 on the ground, so no can do right now. I’m clearly on a Hender Scheme kick right now. Though, there is the Anatomical Slip-On by Lemaire that just dropped, for anyone interested. Very nice, very sleek, very Lemaire.

• I might expand on the big shorts piece I wrote for Highsnobiety, but from a more Duchump perspective. For now, &Son dropped a few great options by Reformed: the Knchaku Wool Trunks in navy and brown.

• It didn’t fit me, but I’d love to see this Skipper Shirt by Blanc YM on someone soon. Stupidly comfortable, and a great addition to anyone’s summer' wardrobe. The Washed C/L Corkscrew Jacket by Ulterior is also a favourite of mine at Sycamore right now.

• VP Texi, a brand you probably don’t know just yet, currently has their Trouser-One on sale. I’ve yet to pick up a pair because I’m stuck in that familiar loop of wanting everything at once, or nothing at all. But for you, I’d recommend taking a look immediately. VP’s one of those brands that feels like more than just a brand, as they’ve released an LP for No You, a project recorded by Suzanne Kraft and Davy Kehoe, and have shown work in galleries. I love this kind of direction. It gives me something to actually connect to beyond the surface-level “nice pants, gotta cop.” They’re more culture-building, displaying their passion for the arts in a way that’s honest and true to them.

• Someone else that’s caught my eye recently is Akari Tachibana. Insane silhouettes, somewhere between art and fashion, with pieces that feel almost architectural. Beautiful work.

• My latest fixation is Fishmans’ live album 98.12.28 Otokotachino Wakare, and I’m ready to say that this version of Long Season is the greatest live recording of all-time.

Your subscription helps keep this project alive and independent. My goal is to offer menswear coverage that feels grounded, honest, and human, without filters.

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A Quick Word

I’m someone who always gets weird when talking about personal achievements. I’ve got a terrible habit of downplaying things that probably deserve to be celebrated. But this time, I’m not doing that. It’s been a very eventful week, and I’d like to chat about it.

Aside from my trip to Mexico City, my first article for Highsnobiety titled Welcome to the Summer of Big Shorts went live on Tuesday covering — you guessed it — big shorts. It was met with over 600+ negative comments, ranging from “all these fits are trash” to “embrace your hoochie daddy.” While the latter is valid, it was a beautiful sight watching 600+ people collectively shit on one post, joining arms and denouncing big shorts together.

(If you scroll through their feed, it’s one of their most engaged posts in a minute. My work here is done. But not really, please hire me again.)

On top of that, I had the chance to speak with Jacob Gallagher of The New York Times about the whole “Made in Japan” wave in menswear, and why we’re all currently hot and heavy for Japanese designers. It was only one sentence, but I’m absolutely still counting it as a win. Plus, I was in great company alongside David Marx, writer of Ametora; Jeremy Kirkland, host of the Blamo! podcast; Saager Dilawri, the mastermind behind Neighbour; and Christopher Green, the man behind Ven Space.

To think that I started this newsletter, immediately assuming no one would take this seriously, expecting little-to-no audience, and now I’ve had the pleasure of being invited to showrooms, runways, and having conversations with people I respect in this space. It’s surreal, but I am proud of myself, even if I’ve got a heavy case of imposter syndrome.

All in all, thank you for subscribing, for believing in me, and for indulging in all of this. It means more than I probably let on. Seriously, thank you.

On with the show. This one’s a long one, so buckle up.

ssstein FW26

(Note: I’ve been holding off on talking about this until things simmered down a bit, didn’t want my pieces mixed in with everyone else’s during men’s week.)

Of all the shows, appointments, and events I had lined up that week, there was one that had me genuinely nervous. The kind of nervous that sits in your chest, like when you’ve got an exam the next morning that could make or break your year, or a date with someone you’ve been trying to impress for weeks.

This, for obvious reasons, didn’t carry those same stakes. But for me, it felt just as big.

Kartik’s show may have technically been my first runway presentation, but Kiichiro Asakawa’s FW26 showing for ssstein was the one that had my teeth chattering. Not out of cold, but from anticipation. Seeing one of my favourite brands, one I could dedicate my entire wardrobe to, in a room filled with writers I admire, like Jacob Gallagher, Ashley Ogawa Clarke, and Louis Cheslaw, felt validating.

Here I am, a lowly Substack writer with a mostly coherent newsletter full of yaps, sitting in this space, about to see what Asakawa had been working on for FW26. It was a special feeling. The presentation took place at the Conservatoire National des Arts & Métiers, a space that felt perfectly aligned with ssstein’s world — quiet, gentle, romantic, but with a bit of edge.

I found my seat, exchanged a few pleasantries, and settled in. Then the show began. We’re seeing someone creating with an ever-growing confidence each season.

The Oversized Layered Combination Coat returns, now tweaked with an almost villainous leather collar, something that borders on nightmare-inducing. New versions of the Vintage Zip Jacket appear as well: one in a faded grey corduroy, another in a classic khaki, finished with a black sheep leather collar.

The spectrum of colour across the collection left me with this strange, fuzzy feeling. It swings from genuinely intimidating — like the black, textured sheep-leather jacket — to this Easter-friendly look: an emerald green cashmere sweater over a buttery-yellow, almost-sheer overshirt, paired with off-white trousers that I would 100% stain within five minutes of wearing them.

See, I have this thing where I immediately stain whatever new purchase I’m wearing. My friends and girlfriend can attest to that.

What Asakawa does wonderfully is stay within this rhythm, never really straying for shock value or attention. It’s easy on the eyes, very complementary, yet some looks still feel slightly jarring, in a subtle, digestible way. Look 20, for example, features a brown wool belted overcoat, fuzzy moss-green sweater, mint-coloured overshirt, and grey slacks. A combination that feels slightly off on paper, but lands perfectly in motion.

As always, it’s the styling that leaves me stunned.

Layered tank tops. A reinterpreted cherry-red Harrington thrown over a dark-brown wool blazer, paired with a full-zip textured sweater. An emerald-green cashmere V-neck layered over a grey cashmere knit. Trousers that drape and sway in a way that feels almost hypnotic with each step. We even see this Andy Kaufman-esque, Mighty Mouse fit — a black turtleneck under a classic blue button-down, tweed overcoat, their deformation wide jeans, and brown loafers.

Shotaro Yamaguchi, the stylist behind it all, deserves their flowers. His work offers a glimpse into ssstein’s full range, transforming everyday garments, like a cashmere sweater or a cotton tank, into something that feels slightly surreal. We’re seeing more brands attempt to replicate Shotaro’s formula, but it rarely hits as hard as they think.

Shotaro’s method? A layered mess, in the best way possible, done in a way that feels almost effortless. The term I’d use for it, especially with the more layered, textured fits: nonchalant chaos. Someone who just throws whatever on and calls it a wrap once it feels right.

No overthinking, just instinct.

With almost a decade in the game, Kiichiro Asakawa has brought ssstein up there as one of the few presentations writers, creators, and designers look forward to seeing. Each collection feels like a natural continuation of the last, with new elements and subtle twists that keep you on your toes, wanting to pick up every piece with money you don’t have (or do, maybe you’re loaded, idk).

Why I Like This Brand

From what I’ve gathered online, you don’t want another Auralee mention, or anything adjacent. However, I’m gonna have to bring them up, whether you like it or not, pal.

With Auralee, there’s a lighthearted airiness to their collections that can lift anyone’s spirit, even though their FW26 offering leaned darker at times, almost the antithesis of what you’d expect from them. As much as I love Auralee though, their sizing isn’t always the most inclusive.

For example, I tried on their Cotton/Silk Gradient Stripe Sweater at Neighbour. It was a spontaneous try-on. I saw it folded on the table, the colours spoke to me, the fabric felt incredible. I asked for a five, threw it on, and like a 90s Mike Tyson punch to the gut, a wave of body dysmorphia hit me. You’d think the five would fit, but instead I looked like an overstuffed sausage. Still delicious, but fighting for its life.

With ssstein, I almost see them as Auralee’s more relaxed, slightly edgier relative. The one that listens to Thelonious Monk, Sonic Youth, and Portishead; moves in silence, stays out of everyone’s business, dresses well without trying too hard, or caring who’s watching.

When it comes to the clothes, their sizing feels more forgiving. Kiichiro leans into relaxed fits — aside from the Deformation Jeans that might only fit infants, and I’m saying this from experience after trying them on — and the fabrics are excellent, especially at their price point. Their SS26 Rayon Silk Flannel is, as of right now, the softest, most comfortable shirt I’ve tried on this year.

There’s also this subtle level of grit to the clothes, which sounds silly, but you see it in pieces like their Baggy Denim Jeans, last season’s Linen Herringbone Jacket (which looks like a crime scene), Sulfur Dyed Vintage Jackets, Sheep Leather Jackets, and more. Auralee can tap into this at times — their Faded Zip Parkas and Dyed Duck Blousons come to mind — but after trying both, I have to give it to ssstein. It feels more natural, less polished. The kind of clothes you could wear to a bar fight.

Not that I’ve been in one, yet. I’ve practiced my boxing stance enough to confirm I can throw hands, I think.

Unfortunately, we’re already seeing more people push back on Japanese designers (hence the intro to this additional piece), which is interesting. Especially when a lot of those same people were championing pre–Japanese influenced Throwing Fits brands for years without much complaint, and still are.

Something feels a bit off there.

But it doesn’t really matter what those J.Crew-Hanover-Vans-wearing, pimple-faced, Chris Black worshipping vanilla boys are saying anyway.

Love u, Kiichiro.

Also, huge thank you to Romcom for the invite. A dream come true, really.

Greg Laboratory SS26 — Early Access

Greg Jackson, legal name The Famous Greg Jackson, has dropped another strong collection for SS26, and it couldn’t come at a better time for anyone in the market for pants and shorts. It’s warming up in Vancouver, and I need something I can wear comfortably around the city — hiking, bopping from café to café, or hitting the farmer’s market.

Yeah, I go to the farmer’s market, I do wholesome shit, too.

Just something that doesn’t leave my legs feeling like two tightly packaged sausages ready to burst.

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If you’re enjoying Duchump and want to help keep it going, please consider subscribing. Here are a few of my latest posts:

• The Cost of Rewriting Culture: A post-mortem on Buck Mason’s jazz-inspired campaign, and the cultural erasure behind it.

• The Idyllic Strangeness of Time: A reflection on creative burnout, process-driven menswear, and thoughtful conversations with Mark from Archie and the duo behind the LVMH Prize–nominated label Tíscar Espadas.

• Why This Designer Is Creating Quite the Buzz In Menswear: Before diving into our next PFW recap, let’s take an in-depth look at this Swedish designer’s philosophy, and why buyers and critics see the brand as one to watch.

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Takayuki Minami of Graphpaper
Photography by Mackai Sharp

There are people who, the moment you step into their orbit, carry an unshakable sense of confidence. The kind that comes from years of trial and error, persistence, and an unwavering belief in what they do.

It’s rare to see, and one we all strive for through the work we do.

While waiting in an open area just outside the Graphpaper showroom in Paris, I saw it firsthand when I met Takayuki Minami, the founder of Graphpaper, FreshService, and AlphaPR.

At a glance, it can feel a bit intimidating, but once we started speaking — after a quick introduction — that feeling quickly shifted. What comes through isn’t ego, but clarity. This is someone who knows exactly what he’s building, and why it matters. It’s why Graphpaper has long held a strong presence in Asia, and why it’s steadily gaining traction in North America, with stockists like Ven Space, Mohawk General Store, and Neighbour carrying the brand.

At its core, Graphpaper focuses on everyday garments, but nothing is ever just “basic.” Through the use of top-quality fabrics, elevated materials, and subtle adjustments to proportion and construction, each piece feels considered. Familiar, but sharper, refined without trying too hard. The brand releases two collections a year on a six-month development cycle. Alongside its ongoing Basic line, this can amount to hundreds of SKUs per season.

With that scale in mind, the team continuously reviews and refines their Basic line: adjusting shoulder slope, proportions, topstitching widths, and more. It’s a process that reflects Minami’s meticulous, almost obsessive approach to design.

It’s what makes the brand a go-to for Japanese locals, their store a destination for tourists, and why people like myself in this space have been paying closer attention. This isn’t just any other brand, it’s one that built on a genuine dedication to making something meaningful. It may appear simple at first glance, but it’s anything but.

As one retailer put it in an introductory feature on the brand, Graphpaper fuses “excellent fabric selections with sophisticated production methods — each piece carrying a sense of quality and emotion that sits quietly within daily life. Clothing isn’t a distraction, but a form of enrichment.”

Now, back to their Paris showroom.

The temporary showroom itself was split in two: one side dedicated to their FW26 collection for buyers, the other functioning as a pop-up space. What caught me immediately was the structure at its centre: a large, black, almost alien-like wall that concealed the garments behind it. Unfortunately, I left behind a Blue Oversized Oxford Shirt that fit wonderfully, only because my card was not working at the time.

Lovely.

As one of Minami’s colleagues explained, the idea was simple: intrigue. Rather than revealing everything at once, the wall invites passersby to step in, to spend time, to look a little closer. Nothing is handed to you outright

There’s a subtle intention to it. A space to sit, to take it in slowly, and to engage with the capsule collection on your own terms. Personally, it let me move through each garment without that usual sense of being watched. That subtle, almost voyeuristic feeling when people pass by and glance at what you’re doing.

While at the showroom, I spoke briefly with Minami.

It was a short exchange, but one that offered a clearer window into his process, and the thinking behind Graphpaper as a whole.

To start, has your perspective on design remained consistent each season, or has it evolved over time?

TM: Over time, I think I’ve come to balance opposing elements: lightness and ease on one side, and elegance on the other. Those things can coexist.

What defines Graphpaper? Things like intention, utility, fabric. What are the core elements?

TM: For us, the design is already about 70–80% complete at the fabric stage. Our role is to take that material and translate it into clothing.

That’s our strength, working closely with people who create these materials. Being based in Japan, and producing with Japanese manufacturers, is very important to us.

There’s been a lot of discussion about clothing starting to look similar across brands. What are your thoughts on that?

TM: I don’t focus on what other people are doing. I’m more interested in expressing what moves me.

You’ve mentioned before that clothing is a fundamental necessity like food or shelter. Could you expand on that?

TM: Clothing should exist naturally in daily life. Sometimes what we see online, images of brands, styling, etc, feels very different from how the clothes actually exist in reality.

Do you think the internet has changed how people perceive clothing?

TM: Yes.

Today people consume fashion through images — Instagram, YouTube — and things can start to look similar. But in reality, when you see garments in person, they are very different. Details, texture, and feeling can’t always be communicated through a screen.

There’s more emphasis now on image and status, but Graphpaper focuses on quality, comfort, and real-life wearability.

You’ve expanded internationally. What do you think about maintaining production scale and integrity?

TM: We now have a base in Europe, and I’m interested in producing outside of Japan as well. At the same time, Japanese factories are facing challenges, especially as the workforce ages. It’s not something I can solve alone, but I’m thinking about what I can do.

We want to continue supporting Japanese manufacturing, but also explore what can only be done outside of Japan. Both need to coexist.

Graphpaper’s retail spaces feel like a natural extension of the brand. How do you approach designing those environments?

TM: I actually start by thinking about the space.

The clothing itself is quite simple, so it can fit into many environments. Because of that, I focus more on what kind of space we want to present.

If you prioritize the clothes too much, it becomes a typical retail store. Instead, I want people to create an environment where customers can feel something — an experience beyond retail

Outside of fashion, what influences you the most?

TM: I’m more inspired by design outside of clothing: architecture, sound systems, ceramics, and other forms of design. I don’t really take inspiration from fashion itself.

What kind of music do you listen to?

TM: A wide range of music.

I own a bar in Tokyo [Yose Tokyo], a space that encompasses the Japanese concept of “Yoriai”, where music plays an important role. Being in that environment, listening to music, drinking, experiencing the atmosphere; all of that feeds into my creative process.

Experience is very important. Traveling, visiting different places, and living those moments all contribute to the my ideas.

A classic question. Where do you see the brand in five years?

TM: I’m not entirely sure yet, but one reason for establishing a company in the Netherlands was to explore possibilities in Europe.

There’s potential for expansion there, but it’s still something I’m figuring out.

(Cont’d)

I also had the chance to speak with George Cole, part of Graphpaper’s Design & Planning team. Before sitting down with Minami, he walked me through their FW26 collection, and overall ethos behind the brand.

To start, could you walk me through the collection?

GC: We’ve got these military motifs that we’ve used for this collection. Like this Deck Jacket, made with shearling.

This is coming from the Pacific Northwest, and then we’ve got more of a kind of synthetic; a little bit techy, which takes advantage of the functional aspects of the fabric. Generally, it’s designed to be worn in city environments, things you can integrate quite easily into your everyday life. Nothing with too strong of an impact.

For Minami, this idea of universality is quite important. The fact that it is oversized, regardless of body type or gender or age. It’s got a flexibility.

He talks about this idea of a kind of distinctive normality — something that’s unique, yet basic at the same time. That contrast is important for him.

That’s one of the many reasons why I love Graphpaper. It’s a very welcoming brand. You feel invited. It’s not size-restrictive, it’s inclusive.

GC: Yeah, that’s definitely what Minami is trying to do.

We’ve started to do international sizing as well, since the last collection. You’ve got, for example, a size 2 in Japan compared to a size 2 internationally. There’s an extra three or four centimetres.

And everything’s made in Japan. Japanese fabrics. We’ve got quite a well-established relationship with mills, so from all the fabric development, everything is exclusive. We don’t use stock fabrics.

Out of curiosity, how long did it take to get to that point? In terms of development?

GC: I think one of the reasons why we do the basic line as well is because it’s good for the factories to have our running fabrics, things they’re producing every season for us, in cuts that they know.

Having these two lines working together means it’s efficient for the factories to get large orders in, and we can continue good business relationships.

I think right from the start, that was his approach.

GC (continued): Generally, in Japan, at least from what I’ve been told, and from my career, has been based there in menswear product development — you have to be very, very specific. From the tech packs to the patterns.

This is in comparison to overseas brands, where the factories seem to do a lot more for you. They have a lot of that know-how in-house. That’s kind of one of the main differences.

It’s funny. I feel like that’s a sentiment that’s been shared at least four times over the last couple of days. From a creative standpoint, it can feel like you lose a bit of that integrity when factories start chiming in.

GC: Yeah, and I think some of our specifications, even if they improve durability, can be time consuming to sew sometimes. Factories have more efficient ways of doing things.

But we’re really committed to trying to make the best products at the most reasonable price point that’s still viable for the factories. That balance is important.

Every time a reader reaches out to me about Graphpaper, it’s always about the price point. It feels like it just can’t be beat, especially for the quality and design.

GC: For example, the shirting over there: we use this cotton from ALUMO, which is Swiss.

It’s the exact same fabric that fashion houses are using as well, and it’s really expensive. We actually don’t make that much profit on it, but it’s really good for the consumer.

They get very, very good value products.

How does it feel seeing the brand’s audience evolve? Especially on the Western side? I’ve been seeing more creators highlight Graphpaper recently.

GC: That’s one of the interesting things for us.

In the Japanese market, I don’t know if you’ve been to Tokyo, but oversized silhouettes are very common. Once you get used to that, it feels more dynamic, bolder. It really highlights the fabric quality, but compared to overseas, it’s much more reserved.

When I go back to London, it’s more heritage, more fitted, maybe slightly relaxed, but not as oversized as Graphpaper.

It’s about navigating that difference.

If you’re enjoying Duchump and want to help keep it going, please consider subscribing. Here are a few of my latest posts:

• The Cost of Rewriting Culture: A post-mortem on Buck Mason’s jazz-inspired campaign, and the cultural erasure behind it.

• The Idyllic Strangeness of Time: A reflection on creative burnout, process-driven menswear, and thoughtful conversations with Mark from Archie and the duo behind the LVMH Prize–nominated label Tíscar Espadas.

• Why This Designer Is Creating Quite the Buzz In Menswear: Before diving into our next PFW recap, let’s take an in-depth look at this Swedish designer’s philosophy, and why buyers and critics see the brand as one to watch.

I do not use affiliate links, and nor do I partner with brands for content. There’s already plenty of that on Substack. Everything I share here is my own genuine opinion — it isn’t bought, and it isn’t diluted to fit someone else’s agenda.

Your subscription helps keep this project alive and independent. My goal is to offer menswear coverage that feels grounded, honest, and human — without filters, or selling out.

We need more honesty in fashion. That’s what I’m here to deliver.

Thank you for being here.

Subscribe now

Share Duchump

Shirts I’ve Picked Up Recently (Review)

Listen, I’m a simple man. When I see a nice shirt, I snag it, even if that means I’m having corn flakes and Annie’s with tuna for dinner. That meal may sound like an abomination, and it absolutely is, but we’ll save that discussion for another day.

The reason I’m saying this is: after being extra cautious with my spending over the past two months, I broke the seal and picked something up: the Yarn Dyed Check Linen Shirt by Evan Kinori. You’d think that would be enough to cool my jets for a bit.

Well, clearly you haven’t met me.

Now, after feeling a little too good about my finances, I’ve begun to browse again, and the Flat Hem Shirt by Evan immediately caught my eye after seeing it in-person. To help paint you a picture of what it looks like, please read the following description:

“Its uniquely rich colour is achieved through an experimental cold dye process that results in irregular colour saturation, producing subtle variation in tone throughout. Dyed at a small workshop in Okayama, operated by only two people, pushing the boundaries of small-scale experimentation.”

I wish I were uniquely rich, but until then, I’ll be girl-mathing my way into picking this up sometime this week. But, throughout the process of all this browsing, and months of online window-shopping, I’ve built up a folder of shirts I’ve yet to share. Normally I’d keep them for myself, but there’s no way I’m buying all of these — right?

We’ve got 26 shirts (unless I miscounted) in this piece, but before diving into this week’s drop, I wanted to touch on two pieces I’ve picked up since January: Salon C. Lundman’s Double Collar Work Shirt and Yoko Sakamoto’s Hemp Work Shirt.

Read more

If you’re enjoying Duchump and want to help keep it going, please consider subscribing. Here are a few of my latest posts:

• The Cost of Rewriting Culture: A post-mortem on Buck Mason’s jazz-inspired campaign, and the cultural erasure behind it.

• The Idyllic Strangeness of Time: A reflection on creative burnout, process-driven menswear, and thoughtful conversations with Mark from Archie and the duo behind the LVMH Prize–nominated label Tíscar Espadas.

• Why This Designer Is Creating Quite the Buzz In Menswear: Before diving into our next PFW recap, let’s take an in-depth look at this Swedish designer’s philosophy, and why buyers and critics see the brand as one to watch.

I do not use affiliate links, and nor do I partner with brands for content. There’s already plenty of that on Substack. Everything I share here is my own genuine opinion — it isn’t bought, and it isn’t diluted to fit someone else’s agenda.

Your subscription helps keep this project alive and independent. My goal is to offer menswear coverage that feels grounded, honest, and human — without filters, or selling out.

We need more honesty in fashion. That’s what I’m here to deliver.

Thank you for being here.

Subscribe now

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Chump Dump

Every morning, after wincing for a brief second from whatever new pain I’ve developed overnight, I pray to find $80,000 (ideally in USD) on the ground. One day my wish will come true, and when it does, you’ll know as there will be signs. My wardrobe will become something you’d only see in your dreams.

Until then, I’ll keep bookmarking the pieces I want. Think of it as online window shopping, except no one can see my tears through the screen when I realize I can’t pick something up, unlike when I do it in person.

Now, while there are plenty of recommendation-based articles on Substack, most of them are either boring, sponsored, or just all-around uninteresting. Others will just drop a hyperlink with no explanation as to why they like what they’re listing, which makes me question whether they genuinely like this, or if it’s just filler.

What I want to do instead is offer my personal picks; garments I genuinely want for myself, but because I’ve got kids to feed (I don’t, aside from my girlfriend), they’re sitting in my bookmarks. I’ll include a brief note on why I want each piece, where it fits into my wardrobe, and whether it’s actually worth it.

Again, these aren’t just miscellaneous links to cool things I’ve seen. These are my picks, pieces I want for myself that I cannot obtain because I’m a broke bitch. That said, I did spontaneously pick up a new shirt by Evan Kinori: this season’s Yarn Dyed Linen Check Big Shirt.

I’ve also got a few more Evan pieces on my mind that I can’t seem to shake. Am I … turning into an Kinori-head?

While I sit with that realization, here’s part one of Shirts I’ve Bookmarked. Our first drop is brief, since I got tired writing this and went to bed.

*Second part will be out in a week or two. Got a few juicy interviews and pieces coming up next.

Read more

If you’re enjoying Duchump and want to help keep it going, please consider subscribing. Here are a few of my latest posts:

• The Idyllic Strangeness of Time: A reflection on creative burnout, process-driven menswear, and thoughtful conversations with Mark from Archie and the duo behind the LVMH Prize–nominated label Tíscar Espadas.

• Why This Designer Is Creating Quite the Buzz In Menswear: Before diving into our next PFW recap, let’s take an in-depth look at this Swedish designer’s philosophy, and why buyers and critics see the brand as one to watch.

• I Think, Therefore I Tastemake: My thoughts on tastemaking, influence, and intention in modern content — exploring slow style, fatigue, and what’s to come

• Basic? (How Japanese brands get labelled “boring” or “expensive,” and the disconnect between passion, content, and algorithm-driven taste)

I do not use affiliate links, and nor do I partner with brands for content. There’s already plenty of that on Substack. Everything I share here is my own genuine opinion — it isn’t bought, and it isn’t diluted to fit someone else’s agenda.

Your subscription helps keep this project alive and independent. My goal is to offer menswear coverage that feels grounded, honest, and human — without filters, or selling out.

We need more honesty in fashion. That’s what I’m here to deliver.

Thank you for being here.

Subscribe now

Share Duchump

Buck Mason

Writing this, and watching how it’s evolved since I first said something, has left me feeling a mix of things. Disappointment, confusion, anger. But also, at times, a bit of humour, reading through replies, DMs, and seeing how people have reacted to all of this.

For those who’ve been offline and actually living life — avoiding the dread of logging on and seeing nonsense across Instagram, Facebook, and everywhere else — Buck Mason released a campaign titled The Big Chino to celebrate their latest trousers. The kind of thing modern menswear guys drool over. You know, pants that Don Draper would wear before cheating on his wife.

The campaign visuals featured a jazz quintet playing in a dimly lit club, with sporadic close-ups of the cast wearing said chinos, and La La Land-esque shots of their musicians playing. It felt like I was watching a watered down, America-first, kids bop version of Mo Better Blues. Regardless of its concept — as someone that loves Jazz, I was interested, but there was one glaring issue I couldn’t ignore.

In the early 1900s, deep in the clubs and communities of New Orleans, a new genre emerged, pioneered by Black Americans, that would go on to change music history.

As Sound of Life explains, Louisiana’s Code Noir (a decree passed by French royals, meant to regulate relations between the enslaved and colonists) granted enslaved people limited time off on Sundays and certain holidays. During those rare moments of rest, Black communities gathered not just to socialize, but to create. Those gatherings became the birthplace of a historic, genre-defining sound shaped by lived experience, resilience, love, and musical influences from Africa, the Caribbean, and across North America.

Despite how much it’s evolved — from the innovations brought forth by Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker, to the mind-bending, ever-expanding worlds of spiritual and abstract jazz shaped by Sun Ra and the Coltranes (both John Coltrane and Alice Coltrane) to hip-hop’s sampling the likes of Red Garland, Gary Bartz, and Ronnie Foster, all the way to today’s torchbearers like Makaya McCraven, Terrace Martin, and Kamasi Washington — it remains a genre that refuses to die, no matter how often people try to declare it otherwise.

We have organizations today like Jazz Is Dead that, despite the name, exist purely to keep it alive; bringing together artists across generations and reintroducing the genre in ways that still feel fresh, strange, and necessary. I remember damn near foaming from the mouth when I found out they were hosting a show for Arthur Verocai — the Brazilian jazz legend and one of my favourite artists — three years ago in New York during my brief stint there. Easily one of the most memorable experiences of my life.

With that in mind, let’s fast forward to this today.

Buck Mason, an all-American brand marketed toward a very particular kind of American it seems like, released this campaign celebrating a musical and cultural era rooted in Black artistry and experience. Yet the glaring issue was the complete lack of representation.

This is cultural history, heritage, Black expression. And still, the brand chose to erase all of that, presenting an idealized, all-white version of a genre created and led by Black artists who were marginalized and demonized then and now. As I told someone who messaged me about it, and the comments I left on their post (which they deleted at first, only to add them back), there’s no way this felt accidental. It came across like a “Whites Only” club, just filmed in the modern day.

Unfortunately, this only adds to the reputation the brand already carries. Several people reached out to me describing discriminatory experiences while working there — Black team members allegedly treated differently than their white colleagues, told to present themselves a certain way, or pressured to change their hair to better fit the “Buck Mason look.” One subscriber shared that their brief stint with the brand felt like they were being asked to perform; tap-dancing for show.

While the brand tries to sell itself as tasteful, cultural, and American-focused, they give off What Kind of American Are You? from Civil War. Their presence feels like a brand romanticizing a version of Americana that’s deeply entangled with histories of segregation and redlining. What’s also disappointing is how some people reacted to my comments, framing them as “anti-white” rather than engaging with the substance of the critique, with one person saying “If you don’t like white people, find something else to look at.” The American education system continues to fail to instill basic comprehension skills and common sense, I guess, but I digress.

This was never about disliking any group of people (y’all white people are crazy, but I still love u) — it’s about calling out a brand profiting from Black cultural history while excluding the communities that built it.

This also isn’t new. Conversations around cultural erasure in America have only intensified in recent years, and it’s clear that progress in representation and acknowledgment remains uneven. So, it’s not that I’m trying to find something to be mad about, it’s about holding people accountable. Because this isn’t small, it’s part of a larger, ongoing issue — one that somehow feels like it’s accelerating in 2026, especially when you look at the current political and cultural climate in the US. There’s a growing boldness to the hate you see online. People aren’t even trying to hide it anymore, and that normalization is what makes it unsettling.

One subscriber put it in a way that stuck with me: it feels disorienting, almost surreal, watching things unravel in real time. It affects your mental health, especially when you’re being hit with jabs in-person as well. Last month, someone hit me with the “you people were our slaves” comment in the neighbourhood, here in Canada.

No, this isn’t some distant issue I’m observing from afar. It shows up here, too.

As for the US, the number of articles highlighting the erasure of Black culture in America has only grown since Trump first took office (five articles are linked there FYI), and it’s going to take years to get back to whatever form of progress was once seen prior to.

Anyway, to wrap this whole thing up.

Brands should continue to be held accountable for cases like this. This is one of many examples where cultural history is repackaged to cater to a certain audience, while the people who built it continue to be erased.

The lack of proper representation isn’t new, but that doesn’t make it any less exhausting. Constantly having to question whether you belong in a space, a place, or a community wears on you, and while we occasionally see glimpses of progress, it’s often short-lived — filtered, diluted, and ultimately revealed to be more performative than anything else.

In an industry that should be inclusive, brands like Buck Mason make it painfully clear which side of history they align with. At a certain point, we have to stop giving them our time altogether, and even if you strip this down to be purely a fashion critique, the clothes aren’t saying much anyway.

Honestly, all that felt missing from the campaign video was someone wearing the red hat — MAGA-fying a century of Black culture and history for mass consumption.

Note: As of March 19th, Buck Mason has neither addressed the criticism nor taken down the video.

If you’re enjoying Duchump and want to help keep it going, please consider subscribing. Here are a few of my latest posts:

• Why This Designer Is Creating Quite the Buzz In Menswear: Before diving into our next PFW recap, let’s take an in-depth look at this Swedish designer’s philosophy, and why buyers and critics see the brand as one to watch.

• I Lost My Luggage Going to Men’s Fashion Week: Reporting from Paris — moving between showrooms, missed luggage, and conversations around slower fashion, locality, and material honesty.

• I Think, Therefore I Tastemake: My thoughts on tastemaking, influence, and intention in modern content — exploring slow style, fatigue, and what’s to come

• Basic? (How Japanese brands get labelled “boring” or “expensive,” and the disconnect between passion, content, and algorithm-driven taste)

I do not use affiliate links, and nor do I partner with brands for content. There’s already plenty of that on Substack. Everything I share here is my own genuine opinion — it isn’t bought, and it isn’t diluted to fit someone else’s agenda.

Your subscription helps keep this project alive and independent. My goal is to offer menswear coverage that feels grounded, honest, and human — without filters, or selling out.

We need more honesty in fashion. That’s what I’m here to deliver.

Thank you for being here.

Subscribe now

Share Duchump

General Thoughts

It could be the shift from winter into spring, the way a new year already feels like it’s speeding past us as we head into March, or just the general state of the world right now — whatever it is, I’ve felt exhausted. I can feel it physically, like there’s a weight on my shoulders that’s been slowing me down entirely. To the point where putting (virtual) pen to paper felt more like a chore than anything else.

So I stepped back for a bit.

I’ve been focusing on my health, getting back into the gym, eating better, unwinding instead of constantly thinking about the next post, the next angle, how to keep subscribers engaged. I love writing, I really do. But for the first time in a long time, I’ve also really enjoyed prioritizing my physical and mental health.

That’s where I’ve been.

During that time, I kept thinking about Paris, about the collections I saw, about AW26 and the direction we’re headed in menswear. Truthfully, I enjoyed this season. I personally gravitate toward muted tones, looser silhouettes, clothes that feel versatile and comfortable, pieces where the fabric does the talking. And this season leaned heavily into that, with more brands seemingly willing to invest more in material development, weight, texture, durability — instead of relying on theatrics or “wow-factor” pieces made from, let’s be honest, lesser fabrics.

Before you say anything, I will admit that I’m guilty in promoting several brands that fit under this bracket, but it’s purely because I’m writing about the brands I genuinely like, and why I like them. Still, how many mud-dyed shirts and trousers that look the same are we going to see before we hit our cap?

One common thread I noticed this season was the amount of development happening in the Bishu region of Japan. For context, Bishu is one of the most significant wool textile regions in the world, producing a large portion of Japan’s wool fabrics, with a history stretching back centuries. Various brands, both small and large, are working with mills there, using similar to the same fabrics, creating similar to the same silhouettes and patterns.

It’s not just a romantic “Made in Japan” detail. When you handle garments developed there, you can absolutely feel the difference. The texture, construction, care, and attention to detail; how the fabric holds it shape, feels on the body. There’s a maturity to it.

Which is where the repetition conversation becomes more nuanced.

At the same time, the number of simpler, daily-focused garments continues to rise. When are we going to get the final, perfect oversized hemp chocolate-brown button-down? Or the definitive quarter-zip jumper? Personally, I don’t see anyone beating De Dam Foundation or Rier right now for the latter. De Dam’s Virgin Wool one-size-fits-all fleece, for example, is genuinely hard to argue against.

That said, brands like Tíscar Espadas, ssstein, and Kartik Research have recently inspired me to look a bit further outward from my usual corner. Still staying true to my standards, but finding pieces that blend in a playfulness that’s often missing, without sacrificing the durable, high-quality garments I look for.

All this to say, there’s a lot that excites me in fashion right now. But there’s also a lot that bores me, or flat-out frustrates me (looking at you, Buck Mason).

Anyway, let’s get started.

1. The Buck Mason piece has been taken out, as it will be its own standalone post. Should be live in a few days.

2. Edited on March 8th — left a draft of a paragraph in the mix, lol.

Archie AW26

Mark Smith Clarke, founder of Archie, is someone who continues to fascinate me.

I’ve had the pleasure of seeing him across SS25, AW25, and AW26, and each time it’s been a genuinely great experience. At this point, it feels like catching up with a talented friend and seeing what he’s been working on — and the waves his work will inevitably make.

It’s always nice hearing what he’s been up to, but also witnessing the steady progression of the brand and his approach to design has been special to see. Each season feels like a natural continuation of the last, carrying a sentimental thread that remains central to the brand’s meaning and inspiration.

Read more

If you’re enjoying Duchump and want to help keep it going, please consider subscribing. Here are a few of my latest posts:

I do not use affiliate links, and nor do I partner with brands for content. There’s already plenty of that on Substack. Everything I share here is my own genuine opinion — it isn’t bought, and it isn’t diluted to fit someone else’s agenda.

Your subscription helps keep this project alive and independent. My goal is to offer menswear coverage that feels grounded, honest, and human — without filters, or selling out.

We need more honesty in fashion. That’s what I’m here to deliver.

Thank you for being here.

Subscribe now

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General Thoughts + Opinions

Let’s rip the band-aid off — it’s hard being a menswear writer in this space right now, and my experience at Paris Fashion Week left a sour taste in my mouth.

I’m sure many of you share this same pet peeve, but watching people perform a kind of casual grandiosity purely for validation is unsettling. The number of times I tried to have a genuine conversation during brief pauses in the madness only to be met with zero reciprocation, or any form of base-level human interaction, was absurd. I could’ve had more meaningful exchanges with Sonny from iRobot than with most of the people I met in Paris.

It was all about the next best thing: what you’re wearing, who to look out for, and isn’t that so-and-so standing behind you? I remember asking someone how they were doing while walking through Le Marais, and as they were mid-response, they quite literally shut me out to talk about new brands they’d seen. Not even to me, but to the person next to them who was also there for work.

Have we completely stripped the human element out of fashion — even at a boots-on-the-ground level, in simple conversations over a drink?

And when it comes to Substack, I’m starting to understand what people mean when they say the platform is becoming one giant ad — despite having no actual ads on the dashboard. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to no longer be seeing ads for big titty mangas (still not sure how those ended up there) on the socials I use, but it’s becoming intolerable how much of the platform is dominated by Top 50 Watches or 30 Brands You Should Look Out For type of content.

As a reader, it’s exhausting watching people churn out the same top brands lists or things you need to buy now framed as insight, and convincing themselves it’s groundbreaking, or even helpful, when they function more as a clean expression of capitalism.

For brands, that brief dopamine hit of seeing your name featured in someone’s post is real, but it’s fleeting. It’s a small burst of attention that often comes at the cost of your life’s work being reduced to two sentences or a four-second clip. I’ve already written about this in pieces like I Think, Therefore I Tastemake and Fashion Bros, but it’s still jarring to see people pump out post after post, mispronouncing designers’ names, nodding along in conversations with that unsettling twinkle in their eye — knowing they’re already converting your work into content.

And listen, I’m not exempt from this. I’ve been spending a lot of time reflecting on my own impact in fashion, however small that may be. Platform (and other things in life) size doesn’t matter as much as we like to pretend it does. Every voice, no matter how big or small, carries weight, and can have consequences.

If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been intentionally steering away from the kind of content I was making earlier on, because it started to feel hollow. That work often read like short ads disguised as writing, optimized for attention and subscribers. I’ve been trying to be more mindful about how I share this knowledge with you, leaning into critiques, opinions, and thoughtful pieces instead of another “hey, buy this sweater.”

Seeing this style of content become the norm has been nauseating, and PFW only amplified those feelings. Watching people flex garments for approval, or chase meetings with brands they know will rile people up in this Noah Johnson-approved, Blackbird Spyplane-heavy era of menswear — an era that is, unfortunately, spawning and attracting some pretty insufferable people.

I remember trying to set up a hang with someone, and when it finally happened, it felt painfully one-sided. Less about conversation, more about what do you have for me? What information can I extract for my next post?

(Note: What I found most fascinating was that nearly every designer I met was genuinely lovely. I often ended up spending over an hour in their showroom, which — while throwing off my schedule — felt refreshing. Connecting with people like Bella of Wright + Doyle, John of De Dam Foundation, Gi Tae Hong of Gajiroc, Kevin and Tíscar of Tíscar Espadas, Lea Boberg, and Sophie of Untitled Showroom to name a few, reminded me why I enjoy this work in the first place: thoughtful, generous conversations with people who are actually kind and sweet.)

On the other side of that coin, you see genuinely good writers publishing thoughtful round-ups, interviews, and features — and suddenly you’re left questioning your place in all of this. What’s my purpose if the same thing is already being said? What more do I have to add if three others have already covered it?

Paid subscriptions, something I’m genuinely grateful for, can also quietly warp your relationship with your work. Once they start rolling in, there’s pressure to stick to a formula, to keep feeding whatever’s working. Before long, you’re writing for people instead of writing as yourself, slowly losing the authenticity that drew those readers in to begin with.

Maybe the trade-off for writing freely — without performance — is losing part of the audience you once had. For those trying to turn this into a livelihood, how do you actually win here? The jury’s still out, I guess.

I don’t know. It feels silly letting something so superficial make me feel this existential about my interests, about what I do — but here we are.

I watched World on a Wire last night, and Playtime a few months back, and both films oddly mirror what Fashion Week, and speaking to fashion content creators, can feel like: hollow, circular environments filled with conversations that go nowhere. People moving mechanically through systems they barely question, repeating gestures until everyone feels exhausted, confused, and strangely empty.

This whole thing feels sideways. I don’t have a neat conclusion to wrap it all up, just a growing certainty that if I’m going to keep doing this, it has to be on my own terms. Slower, more intentional. Because if everything becomes just content, then nothing actually means anything anymore.

Those are my thoughts for today, on this gorgeous Sunday afternoon. Until the next post, I shall be hanging out in the Astral Plane. There’s more PFW, and general menswear, coverage coming soon.

Sidenote: A genuine highlight of the week was grabbing coffee with Peter Sherno. Having a real, unguarded conversation after days of noise and posturing was grounding in a way I didn’t realize I needed.

Additional Sidenote: Eugene Rabkin kinda gives old man yells at cloud energy.

Final note: Are there any Black/Latin writers covering menswear? I genuinely feel like an outlier here, and I’d love to connect with more creators of colour working in this space.

If you’re new here, you can catch up on some recent work:

• Parts One (Kartik Research, Vowels AW26) and Two (Impossible Showroom) of my PFW Day 2 Recap are available.

• I Lost My Luggage Going to Men’s Fashion Week: Reporting from Paris — moving between showrooms, missed luggage, and conversations around slower fashion, locality, and material honesty.

• I Think, Therefore I Tastemake: My thoughts on tastemaking, influence, and intention in modern content — exploring slow style, fatigue, and what’s to come

• New Year, New (Kinda the Same) Me: A year-end reflection on growth, fear, and staying honest — along with the designers and pieces that caught my eye recently

• Basic? (How Japanese brands get labelled “boring” or “expensive,” and the disconnect between passion, content, and algorithm-driven taste)

If you’re enjoying Duchump and want to help keep it going, please consider subscribing.

Your support makes it possible to do the research, spotlight smaller brands, spend real time with designers, attend shows, and offer honest, independent coverage without chasing trends or watering things down.

We need more honesty in fashion, and that’s what I’m here to deliver.

Thank you for being here.

Subscribe now

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Who Is He?

Being able to visit Paris to see nice clothes on a daily basis sounds like a privilege — and it absolutely is — but in reality, it feels more like a fever dream of sorts. The kind you wake up from in a cold sweat. Like when you’re convinced you missed your field trip, only to realize it’s 8PM on a Sunday and your trip isn’t for another twelve hours. Or, the ones where you suddenly remember you forgot to finish an always-riveting presentation for your corporate gig, except it’s already done and ready, and you’re just losing your marbles a bit.

That’s how it felt moving from Le Marais to Palais de Tokyo, then up to Montmartre and back again — fuelled by several cups of coffee (enough to keep an elephant buzzing), pastries, maybe a few cigarettes, and a constant hunger to discover new brands, emerging ideas, and threads to follow from one collection to the next.

It’s exciting, and as someone doing this for work, in a way, it’s become something I genuinely look forward to.

Still, despite the number of showrooms, and a few presentations, I managed to see, I left feeling unsatisfied. You can’t help but think: what could I have covered if I hadn’t missed that appointment thanks to a delayed Metro? Or, in my case, you return home, visit your third place (Neighbour), and stumble across a new brand that’s quietly turning heads — one you could’ve seen during fashion week.

Well, actually, both of those are mine. But for today’s post, we’re talking about the latter.

After swapping horror stories with the staff about our respective journeys to and from Paris, I was put onto a designer who’s been circulating in conversations among more established publications, mentioned by the likes of Magasin, WWD, The New York Times, and recently highlighted in Sharp as one to watch this year.

Read more

If you’re new here, you can catch up on some recent work:

• Patience, Process, and the Everyday: Kartik Research & Vowels AW26: Two presentations that slowed things down in the best way: Kartik Research and Vowels. One grounded in craft and heritage, the other built on research, routine, and the poetry of the everyday.

• I Lost My Luggage Going to Men’s Fashion Week: Reporting from Paris — moving between showrooms, missed luggage, and conversations around slower fashion, locality, and material honesty.

• I Think, Therefore I Tastemake: My thoughts on tastemaking, influence, and intention in modern content — exploring slow style, fatigue, and what’s to come

• New Year, New (Kinda the Same) Me: A year-end reflection on growth, fear, and staying honest — along with the designers and pieces that caught my eye recently

• Basic? (How Japanese brands get labelled “boring” or “expensive,” and the disconnect between passion, content, and algorithm-driven taste)

If you’re enjoying Duchump and want to help keep it going, consider subscribing.

Between tracking down pieces, speaking with designers, and writing these essays, this project takes more time than my weekly screen-time report would like to admit. Your support genuinely makes this possible.

Thank you for being here.

Subscribe now

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Jeong Li — Showroom

Okay, so one thing I’ve learned from this whole experience is that good time management is key. Jumping from one showroom to another — when the next is 2km away in a city like Paris, where streets are narrow and taking an Uber is somehow the worst possible option — can be brutal when appointments are stacked back to back.

All of this to say: my time at the Impossible Objects showroom was minimal, and that’s on me. Still, it didn’t stop me from seeing some genuinely extraordinary clothing. To kick things off, let’s talk about Jeong Li.

Based in Seoul, Jeong Li blends elevated technical wear with everyday functionality, adding a subtle twist of the avant-garde this season — most notably through one garment that quite honestly blew me away. For AW26, the brand leans into a colour palette that feels especially prevalent in menswear right now: grounded, earthy tones like browns, greys, blues, and a muted, Easter-tinged yellow.

Where brands such as Auralee, Bisown, and Yoko Sakamoto often use this palette to create collections that feel calm and soothing on the eyes, Jeong Li uses it differently — contrasting those hues against harsher, moodier garments. The result feels heavier, more charged, almost reflective of the current state of the world — which was my immediate takeaway when viewing the collection.

It felt as though Jeong was channeling what’s happening around us, offering a body of work that mirrors our environments right now. Whether that’s the case, or if that’s my own personal subconscious chiming in, is yet to be determined.

Despite that edge, the brand remains firmly rooted in wearability. “We’re really leaning into this idea of a city escape,” Jeong shared while walking me through the collection. “Good layering pieces — practical, but still refined.” Their nylon, water-resistant puffers, in particular, stood out as ideal options for wetter, windier climates.

What struck me most was the colouring of those puffers — greys, yellows. At first glance, they look dyed or washed, but the effect actually comes from the lining and the way the pockets are constructed. “We’re doing a lot of experimentation with transparency,” Jeong shared. “Shell materials, things like that.”

That balance between function and grit comes through most clearly in pieces like their Oiled Nappa Leather Jacket, as well as a new boot model developed in collaboration with Paracia — a name you’ve likely seen circulating lately thanks to projects with the likes of Carter Young and Colin Meredith. The leather is supplied by Knu Kim, founder and designer of the Madrid-based label, and sourced from Spain. Typically used for footwear, it is noticeably heavier than most.

The level of detail is impressive. The jacket feels almost armour-like, marked by signs of wear that suggest years of use — experiences etched directly into the material.

“We wanted to keep a sense of damage-washing — like natural ageing,” Jeong explains as I ogle the jacket, moved by just how buttery-soft the leather feels. “It really defines where the brand is heading in the future.”

While Jeong’s work has always been consistent — focused on wearability through elevated, city-driven garments — you can clearly see the potential in this new direction he’s steering toward. It’s not a massive shift, so longtime Jeong Li followers shouldn’t worry, but it does signal a new level of maturity in the younger designer’s work.

Neithers — Showroom

To summarize this collection, it felt like watching a wizard reveal their best tricks — deceptively simple at first, then quietly mind-bending once you catch on. Each reveal left me impressed, slightly dumbfounded, and wanting more from the South Korean brand.

Won Dukhyun, founder and master magician behind Neithers, presented a noticeable pivot from AW25 — a collection that feels more mature in its storytelling while maintaining the brand’s playful, inquisitive spirit. While handling pieces like the Cotton Ivory Jackets and Wool Shirts, I noticed a discreet pocket hidden along the side seam. It’s a small detail, but one that encapsulates Won’s approach: rewarding the wearer through thoughtful construction, quietly solving problems you didn’t realize you had.

As with many brands this season, tailoring played a larger role. Neithers introduced a series of blazers that appear straightforward in construction, but reveal their intelligence upon closer inspection. Inside, a layered fabric overlap near the arm opening allows air to circulate freely — improving ventilation without disrupting the silhouette. It’s function disguised as simplicity, and a recurring theme throughout the collection.

That same thinking carried into the trousers, which feature a hidden side pocket alongside a small locker loop — allowing them to be hung rather than folded. Subtle, practical details that continue to reward the wearer in everyday use.

This was a strong and well-executed collection, and the attention to detail is unmistakable throughout. That said, I couldn’t help but wish for a bit more tension — a moment of surprise or disruption to push things further, aside from what I had mentioned earlier.

While undeniably wearable and considered, collections like this risk blending into the broader conversation around “sameness” in menswear right now — thoughtful, refined, and easy to admire, but not always compelling enough to linger long after you’ve walked away. That said, a collection doesn’t need to be challenging to be good.

I just wish that, with this level of attention to detail, there was something a little more surprising to hold onto.

meanswhile — Showroom

With meanswhile, I found their collection quite exquisite. I’ve shared their theme for this season below:

“Clothing is completed only when it is worn by a person. Tools are created with the act of use as their premise. Within a tool exists a time axis defined by “use.” The accumulation of that time axis is expressed as folds of time.

Materials that conform to the body through use, stains and tears that come from being worn in harsh environments. The time spent using an object layers upon itself, continuously transforming it into a personal tool for its owner.

We have captured this ongoing transformation by isolating moments along each distinct time axis.”

There were several standouts, but we’ll start with the Temporal Fold Fireman Coat (wild name) — a silhouette currently trending thanks to the likes of Kaptain Sunshine, Auralee, and others embracing sheepskin-collared outerwear this past season.

Made from organic cotton katsuragi and hand-dyed without mechanical tension, the fabric is slowly washed and dried using natural sunlight and the seasonal winds unique to the Enshu region in Shizuoka, Japan. Respectfully, this sounds insanely hard. The uneven colour and softened wear aren’t the result of artificial aging, but of time, process, and intention. It’s a perfect embodiment of the brand’s theme this season — capturing how garments evolve as they bend and shape to their wearer, becoming something personal, something useful — a tool.

The painted collar will naturally chip away over time, revealing a beautifully worn-in effect — ideal for those looking to fast-track patina. It recalls the intentional aging seen in Prada’s latest collection, or various pieces by A.PRESSE (whom I have beef with, but that’s a conversation for another day), offering a lived-in sensibility straight off the rack.

As for the Anonymous Leather Work Jacket, it was mesmerizing to say the least. Dropped shoulders, supple leather, and a reinforced double-button front give it an edge without saying too much — the kind of garment that feels destined to stay with you for a lifetime. ‘The design draws inspiration from the function leather jackets worn by European architects and engineers between the 1930s and 1950s.” It’s an exceptional jacket — offering a perfect balance between romance and utility. Part of me wanted to ask how to place a wholesale order, the other part wanted to take it and run.

At its core, the brand remains focused on everyday wear, though it’s clearly pushing toward more elevated, preppier street-leaning elements — without losing its technical foundation. This came through most clearly in the Shironameshi Leather Luggage Vest, made from tanned deerskin (yes, really), with a removable lower half that can be worn purely as an accessory. It gives glamping, but dialed all the way up.

Alongside this were a series of nylon technical accessories — bags, gloves, pouches — that retained the brand’s original ethos: practical, adaptable, and purpose-driven. One standout I unfortunately didn’t see in person was an updated iteration of the Air Circulation System Vest, now offering both heating and cooling capabilities. The concept still breaks my brain.

As Naohiro Fujisaki, founder of the brand, has stated, Meanswhile operates on the idea that function follows form, and form follows function. Clothing isn’t viewed simply as something to own and accumulate over time, but rather as a daily necessity.

“Clothing should be seen and treated the same as food and shelter,” and he’s right. It’s a philosophy long embedded in the work of many Japanese designers, and one that the Western world is only now beginning to embrace — prioritizing quality over quantity, and intention over excess.

Additional Thoughts (Edited at 7:55PM)

• I finally understand the appeal of attending a runway presentation. Seeing Kartik Research’s collection in person — swaying, twisting, and turning down the runway — felt genuinely ethereal. If you missed my last post (Substack, once again, failed to push it out), you can read it here. It covers Kartik’s AW26 collection, along with my visit to Vowels’ presentation as well.

• Shopping in Paris is a lot tougher for mid-to-big boys. There’s rarely anything in an L/XL at secondhand designer spots, and many retail stores are carrying the same pieces you can already find back home. Attempting to shop here has made me appreciate the smaller boutiques I frequent even more — the lack of diversity in larger stores, whether they’re department stores are just larger-ish boutiques, is glaring. I’ve already picked up four things since returning.

• Logistically, you need at least 45 minutes between appointments. Getting from a showroom near Palais de Tokyo to another in Le Marais without running into issues — slow roads, long distances, train delays — was rarely straightforward and quick.

• This almost feels redundant to say at this point, but I love Auralee’s latest collection. There’s no stopping Ryota Iwai’s dominance in menswear right now. The colour choices this season felt more prominent than ever — purples, blues, yellows, greens, reds — colours people love to claim are “everywhere,” yet still aren’t nearly used enough. We saw a similar confidence in ssstein’s collection as well, which I’ll be touching on soon. Looks 6, 7, 16, 25, 34, and 43 were some of my favourites.

• What’s equally impressive is Iwai’s ability to send out all-black looks that still feel incredibly rich. We’re watching a master at work. Despite the noise around Japanese brands being “expensive,” “simple,” or “repetitive,” Iwai continues to stay firmly in his own lane — focused on craft, proportion, and creating some of the most beautiful everyday garments you can wear.

• I had the pleasure of meeting the owner of Acrai in Antwerp and made sure to tell him how much I love the store. I’ve been slowly weaning myself off rigid “buy lists,” but there are a few pieces currently available at Acrai that feel worth sharing. Haider from Gathering agreed that adding Hunger Ren to the roster was a strong move — from conversations throughout the week, their garments have become increasingly sought after. This silk vest is a perfect example of why their name keeps rolling off everyone’s tongue.

• Aviva Jifei Xue remains in my top five brands to interview. I’ve loved their work for a minute now. Their Antique Bronze Stripe Shirt and Pants, currently available at Acrai, are a bit loud, but I’d happily add them to my wardrobe — alongside the Mud-Dyed Sport Jacket and Sumi-Ink Cocoon Pants.

• I’ve also recently reached out to a designer who has only just begun showing in Paris under their own name. After finally beating the flu I caught on my flight home, I visited Neighbour and tried on a few of their pieces — and honestly, they left me buzzing. These garments feel like a return-to-form in menswear: classic and tailored, but still playful through curved side-seam cuts, layered adjustable collars, and a beautifully cropped cashmere sweater with (in my opinion) a perfect collar. Flattering, comfortable, elevated. More on them soon — but from what I’ve read, they’ve already caused a stir since their debut collection last year. I also heard Ryota Iwai was seen wearing their pieces head-to-toe while taking his bow for AW26.

• I bumped into Chris Kontos of Kennedy Magazine at the Vowels event. He oozed confidence — a real character, absolute chiller. I regret missing his event, as I would’ve loved to grab a copy of the latest issue.

• As for Gnorda (the Gnuhr/Norda collaboration) — while the garments were quite nice, the shoe itself was disappointing. I was hoping for something more playful, especially given Gnuhr’s approach to marketing and design. It felt oddly restrained — a missed opportunity considering how much potential there was to do something genuinely exciting.

• Although I’ve drifted away from wearing Sacai over the last few years, I’ve continued to appreciate their collections — with AW26 being another strong outing that I’ll touch on later. That said, a handful of recent arrivals on SSENSE have caught my attention and found their way onto my wishlist: the Navy Stripe Knit Pullover, along with their Multicolour Khaki one, Faded Denim Jacket, Khaki Nylon Twill Trousers, Nylon Twill Coat to match, and Chalk Stripe Trousers.

• Despite spending eight days in Paris, I didn’t have a single good steak frites. How does that even happen? Who can I call to file a complaint?