I was sitting at a coffee shop Lincoln Park last Tuesday. It was supposed to be work sipping cafe au lait and reading campaign briefs, but really I just had bought myself there to procrastinate furiously and watch Manhattanites stroll by. It’s an activity I’m sure we’ve all engaged in when we should have been doing literally anything else.
I was on my second caffe latte () when I started taking mental note of all the dudes who walked by. In about twenty minutes, I saw at least six distinct style archetypes stroll past me, each answering to a totally different style uniform for men. Two cleanly-dressed Millennial entrepreneurs passed arm in arm wearing identical Patagonia quarter zip pullovers.
Literally the same fleece, in the exact same colour. Sad?
Or hilarious?
I think both. Next came an older guy who could have been channeling his inner John Travolta if John Travolta wore a navy Brooks Brothers suit. Hot on his polyester-covered heels was a younger messenger bag-toting gent who clearly overthought every article of his raw denim uniform (raise of hand).
Finally, there was a barista who wore his spare capacity hang slack literally around his neck and had strong opinions about Japanese workwear brands I’d never heard of. The reason I started thinking about all this is that it occurred to me that men’s style isn’t one thing. We all sort of autumn into tribes that send specific signals about who we think we are, who we’d like to think we are, or who we are trying to become.
And we likely aren’t even aware that we’re doing it. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately and trying to identify the major style tribes that exist for men. Some of these will look familiar.
Some might feel like personal attacks. But they’re all out there, represented in some form or another. Business Casual guys wear suits and have clearly stated opinions about everything style-related.
They don’t budge. My dad is exactly like this. He’s been buying the same Hart Schaffner Marx suits since before I was born, and rotates through them like they’ll last forever.
Navy, charcoal, white shirts. Conservative ties. Cap toe shoes he shines each Sunday while watching 60 Minutes.
He actually gave me shit when I suggested he try wearing something a little slimmer in cut about five years ago. To him, anything beyond a plain white dress shirt is fashion heresy. Style-wise, these guys send a clear message: “Hi, I’m here to work and do a good job.
You can trust me. I respect the (style) establishment.” They wear button downs and khakis on weekends and buy everything at Brooks Brothers or J Press, or if they’re feeling frugal, Jos. A.
Bank. I worked at a law firm over the summer where wearing a suit to work was basically required. I kid you not: these dudes could spot another LLC-educated guy’s suit brand from across a parking lot.
Hip Bros. Wear relaxed chinos and vaguely-tailored overshirts that cost 300 dollars. Think Williamsburg or Silver Lake but could really be anywhere.
The goal is to look vaguely like you don’t care while actually caring a lot. Colour palette is typically restricted to navy, olive, oatmeal, and black. If they wore mint green hoodie they would go into anaphylactic shock.
Their clothes are purchased from Abercrombie & Kentuck and they browse “New Arrivals” on End Clothing like it’s Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn’s House of Cool Catalogue. Speaking of which… yup, I autumn pretty firmly into this category too. When I moved across the country last year I found 17 NAVY SHIRTS (!!!) in my closet.
Seventeen. They were all objectively the same shirt to anyone else but to me they were ALL DIFFERENT. “I bet you even think your Doc Martens are unique…” Says my girlfriend. She might be right.
Crafted Clothing dudes are really into things being authentic and/or handmade. They know more about vintage Levis stitching details than should be legal for any human being. Their closets are basically museums of Carharrt-esque workwear.
Slim selvedge jeans, waxed canvas cargo trousers, flannel after flannel after flannel. Skinny boots, moto boots, Pioneer Woman boots. Their goal is to not look polished, but also not look like anyone else.
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They shop at Ralph Rucci La Garconne and eat quinoa salad bowls. Specifically, they shop at RRL, Filson, and Iron Heart and have a story behind every.single.item. Like where the cotton was grown, which non-union factory in Mumbai stitched the garment together, and why the buttons are an accurate recreation of original 1937 Navy issue.
I really loved clothes when I was about 24. Like, so much that my flat literally looked like there had been a denim-making factory explode inside of it. Everyone was wearing jeans then, and I somehow got caught up in thinking that the darker my wash and the more broken in my jeans were, the more stylish I was being. (I wore that raw pair of jeans for a WEEK straight once to “break them in.” Talk about commitment.) I also spent an inordinate amount of time filling my closet with brown leather goods because Kyel Welch said that was “basically a requirement for collecting leather.” IT WAS NOT.
What I loved about the Heritage Movement guys is that their clothes really did have a story. They’ll spend $300 on a factory-distressed RTW 1937 vintage-inspired hoodie and convince you (and maybe themselves) that it’s actually a good investment. They know the difference between union-made and not, and can point you to your local specialty denim repair shop.
Fashion Nerd Athletics types have basically won at colonizing menswear. These are the Lululemon ABC Trousers, quarter-zip pullovers, technical trainers to walk to Starbucks kinds of dudes. Their entire wardrobe is made up of performance fabric meant to be worn in decidedly un-performance situations.
And they will tell you about the ventilation technology and odor resistant properties whether you ask or not. That being said, I have a lot of respect for these guys. There’s something intelligent about dressing in a way that’s truly going to keep you comfortable and allow you to DO stuff.
Whenever I hang out with my Athletic-Core friends, I always feel like I have to be ready for some kind of adventure whereas they could take me cliff diving tomorrow and feel prepared. They’ll spend $200 on a pair of trainers at Rhone or drill you for hours about the merits of Under Armour vs. Adidas Venture runs vs.
Nike Free Runs. And yet, when Wasque calls… Streetwear, exactly what it sounds like. Graphic tees, loose Hollister trousers, limited-release trainers, and those trendy-as-fuck jackets that retail for your monthly car payment.
Brand loyalty is decided by what’s coolest that week but will always include Supreme, Nike, and The One Designer Collaborating With Somebody Else Right Now. Fashion here is part self-expression, part signal-boosting to others like you, and part collecting rare pieces of “art.” Lots of vintage added in for bonus streetcred points. One shirt guys will talk to you about how solid G Foundry’s build quality is compared to Drakes.
I get it. I really do. But you will never convince me that a t-shirt you paid $300 for is anything more than a t-shirt.
Preppies. They wore the pantsuits when dudes weren’t supposed to wear pantsuits. But they wore them so well, that they revived menswear’s collective interest in popping a little neck sock through a button down.
These guys sport the oxfords, the blazers, and the loafers, but not in boring ways. Maybe it’s a rugby shirt with vintage military trousers, or penny loafers with workwear denim instead of khakis. Think: Todd Snyder, Richomatic, Whimsky Goods, Bragi Trousers, and/or Rowing Blazers.
I met this 22-year-old freelance photographer in Boston who was rocking his grandfather’s vintage Lacoste shirt with skateboarding trousers and boat shoes when we had lunch. I loved it so much I seriously considered offering him my job. He explained the history of prep style to me like it was the coolest history lesson you’ve ever taken – transitioning from its WASPy roots into something new everyone could feel comfortable wearing.
Utility guys, probably my favourite. Wax jackets, flannels, hunters boots, an occasional cattleman’s hat. You’ll find them wearing Filson and Barbour and Pendleton worn with equally-distressed vintage pieces that tell stories of their own.
Photographer friend of mine spent a summer apprenticing with a rancher in Wyoming and took me out camping once he got there. He wore a FILLED IN wax jacket that had clearly weathered years of outdoor usage. He also used a pocket knife to identify every bird we saw and start fires in downpours… while wearing his heritage brand butcher shirt.
My wax jacket, on the other hand, had previously only weathered many a snowy season curled up inside my cozy coffee shop. The difference was night and day.
There are definitely elements of all these dudes that I love and aspire to.
Maybe I’m a Corporate Traditionalist at the office but by Friday I’m rocking Streetwear come what may. Love wearing Heritage-inspired jackets, but buy my jeans at Earnest Sewn? Those muted-black Workshop tees are basically calling my name, but not enough to give up my limited trainers.
And honestly? I think that’s the beautiful thing about menswear these days. We have more freedom than ever to sample from each category and develop a style that fits our interests and lifestyles.
My closet is currently filled with Alden loafers next to Adidas Duramo tennis shoes. Tailored suits covered in jumper vests and DIY embroidered jackets from Japan. We all have pieces of each of these dudes rattling around inside our closets.
It’s up to you to decide which elements work for you and which feel like a uniform you’d actually wear. That’s what being stylish is: dressing in a way that allows you to explore the different versions of “you” you’re working on becoming.
