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.
Before We Start
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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.
That part is refreshing. But, it does beg the question — how long before menswear becomes one massive pool of yak-wool, hemp (and others) earth-toned clothes made from
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.
(The Buck Mason piece has been taken out, as it will be its own standalone post. Should go live in a few days.)
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.
We had the chance to sit down and chat while visiting the Maison Liaison showroom — created by the &Son team, longtime friends and supporters of the ‘sletter — where Mark walked me through the collection piece by piece.
Titled Noumena Falls, marks his tenth collection with Archie. “For this one, I found myself looking back at the origin of why I used Archie as a name,” he says, “and why I keep iterating on the same ideas, just finding new ways to say them.” It’s clear that Mark is a designer who looks to the past to create for the future, with time being one of, if not the, central themes of the collection this season. This reflection brought him back to Evergreen, Colorado, the place where it all started before his eventual move to New York.
“I rented a tiny studio with a friend in this small town outside Denver,” Evergreen, that is. “The space reminded me, in a diluted way, of this photograph I had of my grandfather, Archie, in Canada — Lake Louise, Banff — just this beautiful, almost mythic image.” Mythicism came up a few times during our conversation, references to Twin Peaks, and what one might wear to the Lodge (the Great Northern I’m assuming, not the Black Lodge). Old lambskin, tweeds, melton — fabrics, as Mark puts it, “that feel like they’re melting into themselves.”
With that in mind, we have to start with what is, in my opinion, the highlight of the collection.
The suburban, mountainous, almost ethereal landscape Mark described quietly shaped the collection, most notably through pieces like the Kemp Melton wool from Bishu, Japan, milled using the oldest sheep in the herd. Because of their age, the sheep’s coarse “dead hair” doesn’t accept dye during the finishing process, creating a natural salt-and-pepper effect across the garment.
“It creates this Cy Twombly-esque scribble effect, but what I love is the symbolism. It’s a new product using something inherently old,” he shares. “There’s something about time in that.” With an already quietly surreal presence, Mark elevates the piece further with an Italian lambskin collar and a beautiful double-zip closure that adds a subtle, luxurious edge. Despite seeing hundreds of garments that week, this is one piece my mind keeps returning to when I think about AW26.
There are several more standouts, including a fisherman-style shirt that immediately caught my eye.
“This might be the third shirt I ever made — completely reworked,” Mark tells me.
Made from brushed cotton and featuring four flat pockets inspired by big game pocket construction, it’s a piece that quietly stands apart. Mark worked alongside a pattern-maker who spent over a decade at Polo, helping him refine older shirting blocks. There’s also a subtle dialogue happening within the collection: the shirt’s slightly glossier surface sits nicely against the Waxed Cotton Jacket’s drier texture, creating a thoughtful contrast.
As for the jacket, it ticks nearly every box in Mark’s original inspiration notes: utility-driven construction rendered in a 7.5oz oily waxed cotton twill in a rich hunter brown (which, admittedly, I’m a sucker for right now). “I lined it in recycled wool insulation — essentially brushed wool blanketing, very soft,” he explains.
He also points to a piece inspired by Issey Miyake — the Patch Pocket Jacket — a reinterpretation of an archival Miyake pattern. The jacket is made from a 55/45 needle-sheared plaid twill, brushed on both sides for a softer feel. Its scooped hem and sloped shoulders give it a gentle structure, while patch pockets with side entries stitched into the flaps add a subtle layer of functional detail.
All in all, this is one of Mark’s strongest collections to date, but it’s also one that stayed with me long after I left the showroom.
As morbid as it may sound, it made me think about my own mortality. How each passing year feels faster than the last, leaving me wishing for more time to get settled, to live more intentionally, to make space for others and for myself.
I found myself returning to the first piece he showed me, where Mark shared something that stuck.
“As I’m getting older, my favourite element of designing — particularly through successive iterations — is acknowledging the idyllic strangeness of time and the passing of it,” he says. “I don’t think that was better represented than a fabric that uses only the oldest sheep they can find. The dead hair becomes a biomarker of where those sheep are in their lives.”
In my case, I’m left wondering — philosophically — what my biomarker might be. Where am I in my own timeline? I try to think of something that marks where I stand, but if I’m being honest, it feels like I’m living in the past, present, and future all at once, without any clear signal telling me where I’m meant to be.
Am I on the right path? Am I even on a path? Or am I just existing?
Maybe time isn’t meant to feel heavier as we get older. Maybe it’s supposed to soften into the background, something we’re aware of, but not ruled by. Maybe we’re meant to live as fully as we can without letting something as abstract as time dictate every decision we make.
That said, I doubt anyone would want to use my dead hair for a jacket. And honestly, I’m okay with that.
A Conversation with Tíscar Espadas
There comes a time when you can feel the playful nature you had as a kid begin to shrink a little more each day. You start stacking new responsibilities, new perspectives, new layers of adulthood that leave you feeling… a little mundane — like your youthful, adventurous skin is slowly being shed as life constantly shifts around you.
It’s something I’ve felt more as I’ve gotten older, but it’s also something I’m determined to reclaim. We shouldn’t have to surrender to time so easily, or to the expectations placed on us at certain ages, and that’s why Madrid-based LVMH Prize nominee Tíscar Espadas has excited me so much over the past six months. Their work reminds me of a version of myself that was more playful and eager to experiment with fashion, art, and film — before everything became so serious, before the dull weight of adulthood felt so daunting each morning.
We often see brands experiment with new styles, silhouettes, or fabrics, but it doesn’t always feel genuine — more like box-ticking to appease audiences and industry stakeholders. With Tíscar, the design language feels intentional. Their Capítulos (chapters) flow seamlessly together, building a world and point of view that feels rare in fashion today.
Tíscar Espadas Herrador founded the brand in 2019, with her partner Kevin Kohler joining later. Out of curiosity — and because I’m a sucker for a good love story — I asked how they first met. At the time, Tíscar was working with Henrik Vibskov, while Kevin was in Copenhagen studying art conservation and working on a project at the National Museum. I had the pleasure of visiting their AW26 showroom in Paris, and as soon as you meet them, you sense how deeply rooted they are in the art world — their garments feel less like products and more like living pieces of art.
“We were in the same places, with the same people, but we never actually met face-to-face,” Tíscar tells me. “The stars just weren’t aligned yet.”
As they say, good things come to those who wait. The two eventually began talking, with Kevin becoming one of Tíscar’s earliest clients. After graduating from the Royal College of Art, where her final student collection quietly became the brand’s first official chapter, they continued writing letters, discussing garments (especially shirts), and building a deeper connection despite living in different countries.
After finally meeting properly in person and spending a week together without ever parting, the two decided to move to Madrid together.
When it comes to their working relationship, both bring a mature, honest perspective to each capítulo — far from the romanticized “we agree on everything” dynamic. With Kevin focusing on materials and fabric sourcing, he often challenges Tíscar with unexpected textile choices during the design process.
“Sometimes he chooses fabrics I would never have selected because I tend to think in terms of colour and volume,” she shares. “At first, those choices scared me — they pushed me out of my comfort zone — but they led to discoveries I now love.”
Evolution is inevitable for any designer, but working alone can, at times, slow that growth. This form of collaboration, as Tíscar puts it, “allows constant reflection and growth.”
Their design process reflects that same spirit of experimentation. Rather than beginning with fabrics or moodboards, the duo focuses on shape first and materials later, an unconventional approach in fashion design. The goal is to observe how a piece transforms — structurally, visually, and texturally — rather than forcing it to match a preconceived idea. It flips the traditional design process on its head, where fabric swatches and visual references typically come first.
This unconventional approach also informs their production philosophy. “If we only have three metres of a fabric, then maybe only five garments can exist,” shares Tíscar. “The material availability decides the collection.”
While fabric quantities may be limited at times, the duo has developed an archive of textiles they can draw from in the future. “When we find something beautiful, we store it — even if we don’t yet know how we’ll use it,” she says, reinforcing their commitment to reducing waste by remaining selective and intentional about how and when those materials are used.
That restraint, she adds, is part of the creative process: “Budget limits how much we can buy, but limitations create creativity.”
That limitation naturally reduces waste, a rarity across both emerging and established brands, while also justifying their pricing model. Their collections feel intentionally scarce, adding value and allure by creating garments that feel considered and meaningful, not just clothes for the sake of consumption. It’s this level of honesty and transparency that continues to draw deeper attention and genuine admiration from buyers, old and new.
Our conversation soon shifted toward trends, individualism, and how certain buzzwords continue resurfacing, subtly shaping how we consume. Over the past few years, influencer culture has churned out video after video showcasing the same looks and the same brands, fostering a hive-mind mentality where viewers and consumers begin wanting, and wearing, the same things.
“Clothing should give you freedom to become a character, not pressure you to follow trends or prescribed aesthetics,” Kevin shared — an observation that stayed with me, especially after watching menswear discourse unfold over the past few months.
“In Japan, individual expression is appreciated,” he continues. “In the West, clothing often signals where you want to belong rather than who you are.”
That distinction feels especially relevant today. Western fashion culture can sometimes lean heavily into image-building and moral posturing, shaping both design and content creation in ways that feel more performative than anything else. Conversations become less about human connection and more about visual signalling; showcasing garments, curating personas, and engaging in surface-level exchanges that often leave you feeling more hollow than inspired. We’re no longer creating characters and expressing ourselves, but perhaps trying to fit in to subconsciously fill a quiet, lonely void of sorts.
Before wrapping up our conversation, I asked what the future looks like for the brand, with their niche approach steadily turning heads and eventually leading to an LVMH Prize nomination. It reminded me of the Japanese labels that once felt niche — labels like Auralee and Comoli, quietly admired by those in the know — before becoming everyday talking points, sometimes even reduced to punchlines because of how frequently they’re discussed online.
“Not everything needs to become mainstream,” Kevin shares. “Some work should remain subcultural. Growth for us means depth, not scale.”
That sentiment lingered with me. Growth measured through subscribers and followers can begin to feel hollow, stripped of meaning. In an era where everything is instantly accessible, remaining niche can feel like a blessing. It allows space to reflect, to understand what resonates, what doesn’t, and why.
With Tíscar and Kevin, growth doesn’t equate to wider distribution or consistent sell-outs. Instead, it’s about evolving individually; as designers, as artists, as people. It’s a perspective worth carrying into our own lives.
I’m grateful for the time they shared with me. Conversations like these stay with you — the kind that quietly reshape how you see things long after they’ve ended.
Miscellaneous Tidbits
This was meant to be a standalone piece, and maybe it will be, but I genuinely cannot fathom A.PRESSE’s pricing, especially when their marketing and overall brand image feel oddly hollow. Their campaigns resemble elevated H&M visuals, while the garments themselves can feel underwhelming for what they’re charging.
I hate to say it, but the whole thing reads like an influencer brand. A new form of Row-esque luxury consumption.
Lukas Mauve, one of my favourite writers, who I’ve mentioned here many times, released a new article for Highsnobiety titled How India Became an Artisanal Menswear Powerhouse. I explored a similar thread in my Kartik review: India remains overlooked in fashion despite the immense talent and innovation coming from designers like Kartik Research, Rkivecity, and Toward(s).
Give his piece a read. It’s about time India gets its flowers.I’ve been pretty good about saving money lately, until I saw MAN-TLE’s Earth Wax Soft Shirt-3 and Yoko Sakamoto’s Hemp Work Blouse. Both have already been in heavy rotation, with the latter layering nicely over a similarly brown Fine Wool Button-Down by ssstein that I scored on Facebook Marketplace for $50CAD.
Left: MAN-TLE tags. Right: Yoko Work Blouse, overtop the Fine Wool Shirt by ssstein, Box Pleat Trousers by Sage Nation. Also, Evan Kinori sweater sitting cute on the stool, and Salon C. Lundman track jacket hanging. James Coward recently made a strong case for jacket of the year with its Wenge Japanese Linen Replica Jacket. The fabric is made in small batches, handled by artisans in Enshū (Japan), where it undergoes a traditional dyeing and sun-drying process. Exposure to wind and sunlight gives the material its rich brown tone and textured depth. As the brand notes, “this fabric will ease and age gracefully, revealing the gentle nature of its processing with the passage of time.”
I’ve also been itching to pick up a few shirts from Fujimoto for spring/summer — they look incredibly lightweight and ideal for warmer days, especially theHeat Treatment Tucked Shirt. Their Dust Jacket has also caught my eye.
For those looking to elevate suiting options for summer weddings, I present to you the Linen Relax Jacket by Is-ness (with matching pants here). I had the pleasure of modelling it for Wallace Mercantile and can confirm it’s ridiculously comfortable. A strong option if you want to spice up wedding fits or elevate casual tailoring this season.
Gabriela Coll Garments remains as one of the more exciting brands to watch this year. Although we’ve mentioned them before, alongside Highsnobiety and many others, they still feel strangely under-appreciated.
Left: No. 306 Six Zipper Leather Jacket in Black. Right: No. 267 Summer Wool Draped Trousers in Brown. I took a peek at what’s landed at Maiden’s for SS26 and several pieces stood out. Personally, I’d go for the No. 216 Poplin Hooded Zipper Jacket, No. 267 Summer Wool Draped Trousers, or their No. 306 Leather Six Zipper Jacket. The leather joint looks insane — I need to see it on someone asap.
Not to defend A.Presse (they don’t need that), but the price point is less absurd in Japan.
The feeling you are getting less than what you spend is real (especialy compared to similar priced brands like Maatee and Sons or Niceness) but in fact they do spend a lot of money to make these clothes. Just not on the « wow » factor. A.Presse is lackluster like The Real Mccoy is lackluster, and I think that’s what the japanese public likes.
That Said I would never pay the retail for this brand. Even the japanese retail.