Saturday, November 22, 2014
The consumer season -- also known as Christmas -- is fast approaching and to no one's surprise, Beyonce drops a re-release of her self-titled album because why the fuck not ($$$). I'm not the type to order an eggnog and spend hours holiday shopping because that shit is depressing and I'm really just trying to ruin capitalism. That doesn't mean that I still can't enjoy myself. So, on this melancholic Saturday, I went to a holiday pop-up shop and purchased nothing.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
As an occasional subway rider, because sometimes life exists north of Bloor and east of Yonge, I intentionally comply to the mores of subway use. I pay my fare, I walk, not run to the platform, okay, sometimes I run and if a seat is a available, I quietly take my seat. Legs closed. I talk to no one because this is 2014.
In New York City, island of convoluted subway routes and a plethora of men appearing to give birth on the subway, is championing a campaign for men to deconstruct their masculinity. Closing your legs won't make you less of a man. You'll look polite, courteous and avoid the possibility of having a dick slip or a ball bulge. The campaign commences in January hoping to deter men of this heinous, albeit legal activity of spreading ones legs to consume more than their shared space.
The campaign is titled, "something new, something fresh." Sounds like a nice slogan for new douche users.
Monday, November 17, 2014
This morning, residents of Toronto woke up to an amalgamation of rain and snow with feelings of confusion and possible reclusiveness. Let's inquire further by asking imperative questions. Do you call in sick and tell them your dog died? Do you bring an umbrella with you? Do you wear rain boots of snow boots or one on each? Rain jacket or winter coat? Are gloves appropriate? Sure. Toques? Yes, but not those fucking ridiculous looking 180 earmuffs.
Why? Because you do not want to look like you've aged 40 years and appear to still be living in the suburbs.
I feel, and you should too, that the 180 earmuffs, to a high degree, are redundant and will most likely not get you laid. If getting laid is your main concern, I suggest you burn them, douse it with gasoline and set that shit on fire. (Burning them will not actually get you laid.)
What I suggest, like it has been with the vikings, that you purchase a quintessential and functional toque to keep you warm. It will get you laid.* If you already own a toque, I am happy that you are having copious amounts of sex.
*I can't guarantee that unless you are professionally suave.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
Since its evidently sweater week here on Pacific Row and with the weather being conducive to the aforementioned knitwear -- why not look to none other than swooning lead singer of Vampire Weekend and professional sweater wearer Ezra Koenig for style advice. Somewhere in the previous sentence could have used a period, or a semi-colon.
Sunday, November 9, 2014
Today in old news, but new news for me and everyone else without an Instagram account -- Monocle now sells clothes. The Monocle reader is well educated, a world traveler, probably works in graphic design, could be a lawyer, too and enjoys reading the Financial Times. I'll accept if you read Playboy, no one is judging.
You can now sport Monocle Voyage and carry Monocle because you are a very important person.
The inspiration for the collection is designed for the business traveler in mind. He is discerning. He's all about that same-day shipping from Amazon. His clothes aren't being manufactured in Bangladesh or Cambodia. Nope. He's expecting garments made from Italy or Japan because quality is key and clothes should be versatile and timeless.
I like the direction you are going Monocle Voyage. I am in the market for a high-quality basic jumper in melange grey. As it so happens, you are selling a melange grey jumper. And because your creative team is based out of London, I thought I would substitute sweater for jumper.
Friday, November 7, 2014
A quick Google search of men's bedrooms left me with photos of dark, impersonal and a real disconnect of how I would like to see my personal space. They were mainstream, lack lustre, dull and banal. They left me stagnant and impotent. I don't want to be inspired by dated views of hanging a bikini clad Sports Illustrated model on my wall or a pool table being the focal point of my "man cave." I'm looking for clean and personal interior design to reclaim my masculinity -- my personal space.
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
The world (I am speaking on behalf the world) and myself are exhausted at all the Jian Ghomeshi headlines flooding my newsfeed. Dear CBC, I understand you fired Ghomeshi, but honestly, inform me about Ebola, the US midterm elections or how to make apple pies because apple pies are democratic and delicious.
Therefore, if we all have to suffer perpetual news about Jian Ghomeshi and his hiring of criminal lawyer Marie Henein, then one more article about Common Projects won't hurt.
My attempt is finding who is Common Projects' niche demographic? Who is willing to shell out $400+ for a pair of beautiful Italian hand crafted sneakers with numbers on the periphery? Who even has that money? I know who. It lands on two ends of the spectrum: the super cool alternative hipsters and the finance bros.
The super cool ultimately commences the trend. Slowly, one by one, like glaciers melting in the arctic, a cool person is purchasing a pair of Common Projects to complete their street style ensemble and permeating coolness. And then, shit hits the fan and the bros just ruin everything. (I don't purposely mean to target the bros, but they are an easy target.) They have money, they want to show you they have money and a new haircut and alas: Common Projects sneakers and a fresh fade. I once considered it a latent staple in my wardrobe, but the ubiquity of the sneakers is making them an uneasy footwear to consider.
I don't want to be an asshole, but Holt Renfrew really needs a new buyer for their mens sneaker department.