SUPREMACY

(‘New York’ piece from a couple of weeks after the NYC Supreme store’s opening)

I’m prone to acts of Supreme fandom on the level of my Nike and Polo preoccupations. I make no secret of that. I am a Supreme Stan. I’m obsessed with other brands too, but the majority that ditched print and went “cut and sew” just seem Supreme-lite. The Supreme realm complements my love of brands like Fuct, Stussy and GFS, yet attempts to enter Supreme’s lane rendered some other once-credible lines corny. I remember wanting an OBEY design back when it was called Rebel or some such shit, but now they’re making shirts, slacks and militaristic little hats? That’s not so good. Supreme is just…Supreme. The reference points are tight, it rewards a certain geekery and nobody there’s trying to lay claim to inventing the wheel and sticking a box logo on it…they just make great gear. By avoiding any of 1994’s design pitfalls (graffiti fonts, drip, bolshy visuals), it stays looking correct at the core. Tight control and constant maintenance stops the wheels falling off and the no-bullshit nature of the empire has plenty of brands taking notes. By shirking any allegations that the brand is streetwear is a smart place to start, but it’s nice that your dad could find some well-made slacks in there, as he’d bumble around hordes of serious kids with plugs in their ears, AM87s and slender chinos. That’s the key to the brand. It caters to more than one audience. Plus they put in work and keep it thorough — those Prodigy projects weren’t a coincidence.

The launch of the London store was fun. The space is tremendous and Gonz’s touch cuts through the cleanliness with some tactically applied abstraction. I didn’t realise how popular the UK-product was until my twitpic of a box shirt ended up on a handful of major sites. The blogs were thirsty and Supreme broke out hype-flavoured Snapple. I love Soho too and it was heartening to see all involved pick the area above some barren, no-foot fall eastern enclave of ironists. As an antisocial individual, it was fun to have a one-stop catch-up spot (Jason Dill holding court behind the counter in a wifebeater is some distilled Supreme swag), and the after party was immense. Obviously there was no Prodigy because of parole and no Dipset because of issues locally and internally, but Ghostface can get overseas and rip it with J-Love in tow. With an appropriate amount of ‘Supreme Clientele’ material (and a replica of the album cover mic), Mr. Starks’s big ‘C’ sweat took centre stage too. It’s notable that Ghostface is imposing enough to fill one too, but how many parties have Theo Parrish spitting the ODB verse from ‘Protect Ya Neck’? Hell, even I don’t know the words because of those pesky edits on the LP version. Shouts to James, West, Angelo, Jagger, Michael and the crew. Hopefully Soho will rise again after idiotic rents put some legendary spots into early retirement — there’s at least one more significant opening on the horizon too. Props to the dude who — according to the internet grapevine — camped out and then bought nothing. That’s extreme window shopping. Shit, Ghostface’s heatstroke-inducing apparel pick inspired me to break mine out today.

(Props to Spencer on the camera)

 

EARLY-MID 1990s DOUBLE RL ADS

I like Double RL a lot, even if it’s hideously overpriced. Now it seems to be enjoying its moment to truly shine, with Ralph Lauren’s baby — a veritable Mr. Benn dress up in worn-in seasonal costumes that reflect a specific period — being the brand to be wearing. Tres Bien’s recent (intelligent) blast at the RRL sell-in, which was refreshing in a world where everyone seems to be outwardly nice about everything, linked to their Flickr, where they upped a phenomenal set of A/W RRL 2011 lookbook images. Now that’s woah. Sweden’s Très Bien actually have an amazing blog. Now every store feels obliged to have a blog because some tit told them they should, but like Oi Polloi, Très Bien seem so at ease with their chosen subject matter that they can get funny with it — watch them get their Black Rob on in a Dries van Noten post like this. To quote Rawse, fuck a blog, dog (unless you’re going to say something interesting in it). Despite being part of a vast corporation, Double RL maintains a certain mystique, and what’s reported there is probably part of it. They don’t just throw those accounts around like the dudes with ankle-tapper denim that dwell in that strange heritage gear hall at BBB. The very thing that pisses off partner retailers

In terms of marketing and approach, Double RL’s experienced some changes, but I still love the visual language of some of Bruce Weber’s original ads. Once, this line was a personal crusade for Lauren, but a perennial loss-maker in his Ahab-style quest to break the denim market with something he felt was authentic. Continuing the nautical literary riffing, it seemed to be something of a painstakingly vintaged albatross around the great man’s neck, appearing like some attempt to cash-in on a non-existent audience of wealthy grungers who would shell out $175 for distressed jeans in 1993. The Double RL bus doing the college rounds back then seems a little at odds with the densely packed curiosity store spaces and concessions scattered around the globe now. Lauren wants to imbue these pieces with implied stories like a hipper J. Peterman and I’m a fan, but once upon a time, he was buying back $10 million dollar’s worth of unsold stock to prevent it hitting sale racks with a vengeance. However, those horses from summer 1993, previewing the line and a particularly prescient selvedge turnup and vulc shoe combination from 1994 made for bold, brilliant campaigns. By looking back, Lauren was way ahead of his time. Oh yeah, was somebody trustworthy talking about Polo being discontinued soon? I hope it was just a bad dream.

Anyway, these ads are from the 1993, 1994 and 1995 print campaigns.

It’s nice to see these Supreme London box logo stickers cropping up too. This one’s shamelessly swaggerjacked and cropped from the homie Nick’s Tumblr. You knew there’d be a Union Jack Supreme box logo didn’t you?