Fashion as a language.
A house built in a garage on Alameda. Denim cut for the way a body actually moves through a day. Chambray softened by the sun. Wool that holds a crease through a wedding and a wake. Nothing loud. Nothing new for the sake of new. Only the pieces we would still wear in ten years.
Four bodies of work. One quiet argument for how a wardrobe should be built.
Eight looks. Photographed in a rented storefront on Broadway, mid-August, in the last of the good light.
The uniform, worked out over ten years.
We keep coming back to the same problem: what does a person actually put on before the world starts asking anything of them? This look answers with three pieces — a pullover long enough to move in, a jean jacket cut close through the shoulder, and a straight-leg jean that holds its line by the time you sit down to lunch.
The same three pieces, cut in black. Shot against concrete, late one summer evening.
The jean jacket began as a factory sample we couldn't stop wearing. Three revisions later it is a garment that reads formal from across the room and easy from inside it. Shown here in black, over the button down — the piece we've made in some form every year since 2017.
A classic reimagination of a lifestyle that seems forgotten. Timeless denim to remind us of a timeless era.
Four bodies of work cut in Japanese denim & cotton.
Four conversations, over nine years, with people who asked good questions.