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Boomerang Week

Michael Hainey by the Selby

Michael Hainey by the Selby

This post could be summed up with one simple sentence – go buy Michael Hainey’s new book “After Visiting Friends.” There’s your Cliff Notes, I just saved you reading my next couple hundred words by giving you a few hundred pages to read. But in all sincerity, read this post (I’m not crazy enough to drive away my audience just yet), then go buy the book, it’s an incredible story, and the prose is exactly what you’d expect from someone as talented as Michael. For now though, at risk of giving too much away, I’m going to leave the book for you all to discover on your own and shift focus towards Hainey and his houndstooth jacket.

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B.J.T. Bosanquet

In the wake of Fashion Week, these past few days have been marked by a significant amount of chatter across the internet on the state of the feeding frenzy that is street style, including two somewhat opposing yet equally as convincing pieces from Suzy Menkes and Leandra Medine. While the debate rages on as to whether or not we’re heading towards a full blown, three ring circus of bloggers perpetually out doing each other in gratis garb for the sake of a supposedly organic image, I thought it necessary to shed some light on a man who embraced the absurdism of literal style on the streets over a century ago – Leslie Ward, better known as “Spy.”

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Hooman Majd by Backyard Bill for GQ.com

Hooman Majd by Backyard Bill for GQ.com

Like overindulging at the Thanksgiving dinner table and slipping comfortably into a two day food coma, in the wake of Fashion Week here in the city I feel stricken with a serious case of clothing fatigue. For the past few days it’s been much of the same – same shirt, same sweater, same pants, same jacket, same shoes. It’s not that everything I saw this week was that great, it’s just that it was at least something and after a while that many little things add up until it’s tough to determine where the good ends and the bad begins. I saw blackwatch parkas, corduroy robes, exploded houndstooth, velvet moto jackets, and flecked cable knits and when you add all that (and far more not worth writing about) together it’s a lot easier to just turn your brain off then try to make sense where there just might not be any.

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