Consider this image of a typical commercial airliner cabin from the 1960s. No obstructions or overhead bins. We didn’t need them then. Our luggage was loaded into the cargo hold and taken care of for us, waiting for us at the baggage claim area. Luggage was something external and not part of our process.

Today, we’re traveling in a different reality.

The shift isn’t just about changes to airport logistics or even airline policies; it’s a paradigm shift. One in which we are intimately involved with our luggage. Overheads become a must-have for all flights. Luggage fees are the new norm, connection anxieties include smaller time windows, and lost luggage is a real possibility. Fashion, like everything else, adapts to these realities.

I’ve done the 48-hour turnaround more times than I can count. SF for a morning presentation, then taking the last flight back home. LA to Brooklyn for an event, first flight out the next morning. Two days, one bag, no checked luggage. I used to treat it like a skill, and honestly, it still is. The ability to move through an airport without checking a bag and arrive looking like you meant to is a form of discipline that very few people actually have. For me, it was never an inconvenience; it was a challenge, and I was up for it. Traveling for business or pleasure without checking a bag and arriving without looking like I did. It’s an impressive thing, and a rare skill in its own right.

The extra shoes stayed at home. Not because it would cause me to overpack, but because the packing constraint created the framework for my decision-making. I wasn’t packing for my day-to-day life; I was packing to make sure I arrived ready for whatever came next. My favorite jacket? It may not fit in my suitcase. Best pants? They might wrinkle in flight. The limitations of carry-on space aren’t just about limiting volume. They dictate the kinds of clothes you bring along for the journey based on their ability to survive that journey, and not all clothes are equally up to the challenge.

A whole new category of clothing emerged as overhead bin capacity became an important design feature. Wrinkle-resistant fabric technology became popular. Shoes and accessories that would pass through TSA checkpoints without being removed and untied. Even capsule wardrobe options that could be packed in one carry-on and last a week, all based around limited space. The clothing industry adapted to the carry-on travel culture. Some of those products were useful. Others were simply a product category created to justify a problem. More interesting was the way carry-on baggage changed the way we approach the idea of intentional dressing. Constraints can be a powerful force for improving creative design. Just as they’ve influenced the kinds of clothes we bring with us when we travel, carry-on baggage has prompted an awareness of wardrobe needs that weren’t considered before.

Last fall, Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy launched what the Department of Transportation called “The Golden Age of Travel Starts With You”, a civility campaign that, among other things, asked Americans to stop showing up to airports dressed for bed. “Dressing with respect, whether it’s a pair of jeans and a decent shirt, I would encourage people to maybe dress a little better, which encourages us to maybe behave a little better,” he said. No legislation. No enforcement. Just a vibe check from the federal government. The internet, predictably, clapped back. “I’ll get dressed up for a plane ride just as soon as they make leg room and personal space mandatory as well” was one of my favorite responses. Hard to argue with that.

But the conversation it sparked is worth having, because flying used to look completely different, and not just in terms of what people wore. In the 1940s, ’50s, and ’60s, Americans dressed up to fly. Suits. Gloves. The kind of effort you’d reserve for a night out. Flying was an event. An expensive and exclusive one at that. The cabin reflected it. Spacious, staffed, quiet. You checked your luggage because, of course, you did. You weren’t hauling a rolling bag down the aisle. You arrived. Your bags arrived. That was the system.

The thing is, that “golden age” was hardly golden for most people. Airfare was so expensive that flying was largely limited to the wealthy. You dressed up because you were, in a sense, in someone else’s space, a luxury space that came with social expectations attached. The suit wasn’t just personal expression, it was an understood part of the admission price. The dress code changed because of economics, not culture. Deregulation made flying cheaper. More affordable flying made it possible for everyone. And when flying is for everyone, everyone brings their own normal, including what they would wear on a random errand.

The carry-on shift only accelerated this. Once you’re engineering your entire wardrobe around what fits overhead and survives transit, you’re not reaching for the blazer first. You’re reaching for what compresses, what doesn’t wrinkle, what does double duty across multiple days. Performance fabrics won. Athleisure won. Duffy’s complaint is really a nostalgia play. He’s not wrong that the cabin feels different now, but the flights also took longer, there was no Wi-Fi, and cigarette smoke filled the air. The golden age had a cost. We just used to pass it off as elegance.

Here’s where I land on it: I don’t think dressing well on a plane is about the government asking you to. I think it’s about what you want to project when you’re in transit. I’ve never been a sweats-on-the-plane person. Not because I think I’m better than it, I understand the logic and want to be comfortable, especially on a red-eye. But getting dressed is part of how I move. The outfit for a presentation is doing work before I even open my mouth. The way I show up at the gate is the same way I show up at the meeting.

But I also recognize that the carry-on has forced me to make choices that are really about the bag, not about me. The jacket that stays home isn’t staying home because I don’t want to bring it. It’s staying home because it won’t fit, and will take up space I need for something more practical. The bag is now an editor. And it’s not always a good one. A weekend trip two hours away? The carry-on is perfect. A week international? You’re making real sacrifices. Not the kind that ruins a trip, but the kind where you’re standing at the mirror on day four in your second choice because your first is still damp from being washed the night before.

That tension is real. The carry-on gave us autonomy. It also gave us constraints dressed up as discipline. And somewhere between the man in the suit boarding a Pan Am flight in the 1960s and the person in matching sportswear arguing about overhead bin space in 2026 is the traveler who figured out how to pack precisely, and still feel like themselves at 35,000 feet. That’s the standard worth chasing. Not a dress code. Not nostalgia. Just knowing who you are and bringing enough of it with you to last the trip.

There is a mode of dressing that exists in a manner that is almost invisible, not in the sense of minimalism but in the sense of restraint that is architectural in nature. Each piece is present and necessary only to the extent that it provides structural integrity to the garment. There is no additional piece that exists simply for the sake of looking good. This is the space that Auralee and A.Presse occupy, albeit from different entry points. And it’s an approach that aligns directly with what I’ve always championed at Uniform Journal. It’s the idea that individual expression doesn’t come from the pieces themselves, but from how you assemble them.

Ryota Iwai founded Auralee in Tokyo in 2015 with a singular focus: fabric development as the foundation upon which all design happens. This is not about selecting a fabric and designing a garment around it. This is about determining the characteristics that a garment needs to have—weight, drape, feel, and so on—and working with Japanese mills to engineer fabrics that provide those characteristics. The garment design happens after that and is dictated by the fabric’s ability to perform those characteristics rather than its ability to look a certain way.

This is a different approach from the algorithmic fashion that exists today. Many fashion brands today focus on trends and use the trendiness of a garment to drive sales. Auralee focuses on fabric development, such as brushed cotton and the special machines required to produce a specific weight of wool. This is the real sense of curation and the development of discernment and taste, of fabric, and not of the accumulation of the most Instagrammed piece of clothing that happens to be at the top of your feed right now. The result is a garment that simply feels different—a weight and structure that changes the manner in which it exists on your body. The wool flannel shirts that they produce do not try to emulate the look and feel of the vintage workshirts that so many other brands emulate but rather utilize contemporary fabric milling techniques to produce the same level of density and warmth in a different manner.

The silhouettes are deliberately unremarkable, to say the least: wide-cut trousers, boxy shirts, oversized coats. These are templates, perfected to the point of invisibility. What remains is the materiality. The touch of a brushed cotton that was worked to perfection over eighteen months, the precision of a wool that was engineered to specification.

This is a fundamental aspect of the Uniform Journal philosophy. You start with the same building blocks as everyone else. You’re not creating new proprietary shapes, but Auralee is providing the quality of execution that takes a generic template and makes it a foundational piece. Your personal style isn’t based on wearing an Auralee coat versus a competitor’s coat, but on understanding why that specific weight of fabric is right for your situation, how it interacts with your existing pieces, and what it allows you to do.

Auralee’s prices are based on the time and expertise that go into each piece. A simple long-sleeve tee is in the range of $200 to $250. Their signature cardigans, made from wool and cashmere, are in the range of $600 to $800. You’re not paying for design, per se, you’re paying for the design that isn’t visible. You’re paying for the engineering that happens before the piece even exists.

Kazuma Shigematsu’s A.Presse is a very different proposition but comes to very similar conclusions. Where Auralee starts with fabric development, A.Presse starts with use cases. Shigematsu says, “A.Presse is designed for people who need to get dressed fast, but thoughtfully, and I think that’s most people most of the time.” It is, however, efficient design. It is a list of essential garments: Oxford shirts, chino trousers, working jackets, knitwear. What makes A.Presse different is its specificity. An Oxford shirt, for instance, is designed to be slightly wider in the body to layer over a turtleneck sweater. Chinos have a higher rise and fuller leg to work with chunky footwear and cropped silhouettes. A stadium coat with set-in sleeves and enough shoulder to accommodate layering underneath.

This is utilitarian design in the purest form. It’s not about workwear looks; it’s about workwear that’s designed to be functional. A.Presse knows that basic doesn’t mean bland. It means it’s been dialed in to the point that it’s transparent. It’s the difference between clothing that fits in with your existing uniform and clothing that requires you to work around it. A.Presse knows that most people already have their basics. They just need ones that are honed enough to improve upon what they’re replacing.

They also show an incredible level of restraint in their color palette and range. You can bet your life on navy, black, gray, olive, and cream. You can bet your life on the same range of silhouettes, honed and tweaked over the seasons rather than reinvented. This isn’t restraint; this is focus. When you’re designing workwear, novelty is the enemy. This approach is the antithesis to the algorithm-driven approach to fashion that’s dominating the industry at the moment. While everyone else is releasing new and reinvented versions of the same thing, A.Presse continues to improve upon the same range of basics. This, to us, is the definition of intentional curation versus passive consumption – knowing what you need, and why, and choosing better rather than choosing more.

They make their goods in Japan and France, and occasionally in another country depending on the type of construction required. So an Oxford might be Japanese cotton milled and made in Japan. A wool coat might be French fabric made in France. It’s about expertise, not brand story.

Pricing is firmly planted in the contemporary market: shirts are $250-$350, outerwear is $1,300-$3,000. But again, you’re not paying for branding, you’re not paying for trend participation. You’re paying for calibration, refined through iteration after iteration, to make the garment do exactly what it needs to do, and nothing more. Both Auralee and A.Presse are built on the idea that good design doesn’t need to announce itself. They’re built on the idea that the best infrastructure is the kind that disappears, not because it’s boring, but because it’s been so precisely calibrated to its function that it’s invisible to you when you use it. And that’s really the heart of what Uniform Journal has always been about: we don’t champion brands that tell you how to dress.

They don’t want to be your entire wardrobe. Or at least, I don’t think they do. They want to be the infrastructure that underpins your existing wardrobe, the Oxford shirt that works under everything, the wool pants that work across every occasion, the coat that keeps things centered even when everything else is changing.

They know something that most fashion brands don’t: everyone begins with the same essentials. What differentiates a person with a cohesive uniform from a person just wearing clothes is the quality of those essentials and the precision of their construction. Your job is to grasp how they fit into your existing rotation. The shapes are familiar because they’re effective. The materials are exceptional because they have to be. The price points are based on development costs, not marketing. And the payoff is clothes that blend seamlessly into your life because they were built to.

That’s what durability really looks like. Not cosplay workwear, not brand history or heritage mythology. Just clothes designed to perform a specific set of tasks, perfected to a point where they’re just right. You don’t wear an Auralee or an A.Presse to make a statement. You wear them because they provide the structure upon which everything else is built.

Now, brands are creating entirely new silhouettes specifically for collaborative partners that may never see a general release at all. Or if they do, it’s months or even years later, after the collaborative version has already defined what the silhouette means culturally. The collaboration isn’t pre-heating the market anymore. It is the market. Look at how Aimé Leon Dore brought the New Balance 550 back from basketball obscurity. ALD resurrected the silhouette, defined its aesthetic potential with premium leather and thoughtful colorways, and only after their versions became cultural phenomena did New Balance begin releasing wider colorways to other retailers. But even then, the ALD versions remain the definitive statement. The general releases exist in the shadow of the collaboration, not the other way around.

This represents a fundamental shift in power dynamics and cultural authority in sneaker culture. In the early 2000s, landing a collaboration with Nike or Adidas was the pinnacle for any retailer. It was validation and something singular that any brand would be honored to add to their resume. But as sneaker culture exploded into mainstream consciousness, the brands realized their own institutional voice had limitations. They needed translators, people who could speak to specific communities and subcultures. They needed retailers who had spent years building trust through consistent curation and had an actual point of view. Union Los Angeles, Undefeated, CNCPTS, KITH, these weren’t just distribution channels. They were tastemakers who had earned the right to co-author product, not just sell it.

The retail collaborator isn’t just executing the brand’s vision with a few tweaks anymore. They’re driving product development, influencing design direction, and in some cases, operating as external creative studios that happen to also run retail spaces. When Union’s Jordan 1s dropped in 2018 with deconstructed aesthetics, exposed foam, vintage stitching, and multi-colored laces, these weren’t just embellishments on Jordan Brand’s existing vision, they were detailed design innovations that showed the distance Jordan Brand was willing to go with their collaborative work. The fact that Union is now on their third iteration of the Jordan 1, orchestrating a three-way collaborations with Fragment, speaks to how deeply integrated they’ve become in Jordan Brand’s creative ecosystem. When their recent Jordan capsule had people lined up around an entire city block in early February, it wasn’t just hype, it was validation that decades of retail curation translates directly into cultural currency.

Some brands now operate on a tiered release strategy where the collaborative partner gets the hero colorway, the one with premium materials, thoughtful details, and storytelling, while other retailers receive colorways from the same collection that are more accessible but clearly secondary. It’s a way of honoring the creative partnership while still feeding the wider retail network, but it also makes clear where the creative authority lies: with the curator, not the brand.

JJJJound’s work with New Balance follows this pattern perfectly. Their tonal 992s and 990v3s aren’t just special editions of shoes that New Balance was already planning to push, they’re often the reason those specific colorways and material combinations exist at all. JJJJound’s restrained palette and premium execution sets a standard that subsequent releases reference, whether explicitly or not. The same minimalist rigor appears in their Vans, Reebok, and Puma collaborations, proving that you don’t need loud branding or storytelling spectacle to matter when the curation speaks for itself.

And it’s trust that makes this model so powerful. When Undefeated releases something exceptional, like their Jordan IV, or their Air Max 97 collaborations, it reinforces every previous release. Each successful collaboration becomes proof that the retailer knows what they’re doing, that their curation can be trusted. This is why A Ma Maniére can charge premium prices for their luxury Jordan and New Balance releases. This is why a KITH collaboration often performs better commercially than a general release of the same silhouette. The retailer has done the work and has plenty proof points that their taste aligns with their audience’s values. When they collaborate with Nike or New Balance, they’re not just lending their logo, they’re transferring that accumulated trust to the product.

The brands know this, which is why these partnerships have shifted from occasional to ongoing. It’s why Nike gives Undefeated access to the archive. It’s why New Balance essentially lets KITH operate as a sub-label with near-total creative control. It’s why Jordan Brand trusts Union enough to orchestrate multi-party collaborations. It’s why New Balance handed Teddy Santis the keys to their Made in USA line when he was named Creative Director in 2021. ALD’s work isn’t just collaboration anymore, it’s creative stewardship of an entire heritage category, with seasonal storytelling and premium execution.

Then there’s the category of brands that operate retail spaces but whose primary identity is as creators, not curators. When Stussy collaborates with Nike, Supreme works with Nike SB, or Palace partners with Adidas, it reads as brand to brand rather than retailer to brand. The power dynamic is different, there’s no question about who owns the creative vision. Levi’s has also emerged as one of the most prolific in this space, bringing 150+ years of denim innovation and manufacturing heritage to their Air Max 95 collaboration and most recent Jordan 3s, treating sneakers with the same material seriousness they treat their denim. These aren’t retail partnerships in the traditional sense. They’re creative equals collaborating across categories.

In an era of algorithm driven commerce and infinite online inventory, the retail collaborator represents something increasingly rare and intentional curation. These products are imagined, designed, and refined by people with specific taste, specific cultural knowledge, specific community connections. When you buy a CNCPTS sneaker with its Boston-centric storytelling around lobster culture, or an A Ma Maniére Jordan with its material richness and elevated perspective, or a Union Jordan that references decades of NY/LA sneaker culture, you’re not just buying a shoe. You’re buying into a specific vision, a curator’s accumulated wisdom, membership in a community of taste. This is curation as currency. The retailer’s taste becomes the value proposition, sometimes even more than the product itself.

This model isn’t going anywhere by the way. Smaller boutiques are getting their first opportunities. International retailers are bringing regional perspectives to global silhouettes. Creative partnerships are blurring the lines between retailer, brand, and design director. A lot of brands have embraced this wholesale, allowing trusted partners to operate as sub-labels with significant creative autonomy.

Union, Undefeated, A Ma Maniere, KITH, Concepts, JJJJound, Packer, Extra Butter, and many many others aren’t just retailers who struck gold with brand partnerships. They’re curators who built something valuable enough that the brands came calling. That’s the difference between a collaboration and a partnership. One is transactional. The other is built on accumulated trust, shared vision, and mutual respect for what curation actually means. The retail collaborator has become essential because they’ve made releases matter more, when hundreds are happening every year. This model was always the answer. It just took the brands a while to realize that the best curators had been there all along, running shops, building communities, and earning trust one release at a time.

Referencing is fashion’s version of sampling, everybody does it. For the most recent drop, I drew reference from Peter Saville’s Factory Records era of glory, California counterculture, vintage bookstore tees, and basic essentials. It’s never about stealing or reproducing but more about integrating it, reworking it, and re-interpreting it for myself.

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For Holiday ’25, I drew upon a range of reference points that I felt were appropriate for this project. The geometric designs and typography of Peter Saville’s design work for Factory Records. The hippie movement in California, where the peace sign began with a statement in Haight-Ashbury and the yin-yang symbol originated in Eastern philosophy but then migrated from surf to West Coast spirituality. The classic graphic tee designs from bookshops like Strand, where information is incorporated into design.

The aim is to avoid exact replication. The process of absorbing, interpreting, and reinterpretation is how one can develop a design language strong enough to suffice as part of the Uniform Journal line. Look at Saville’s design concept for his album art for New Order’s Technique: taking the classical sculpture and overlaid with this colorful texture. He took something familiar and pushed it in a new direction. For my Statue tee, I had a similar idea, but I wanted it to be something that was definitively mine. My cherub is a bronze sculpture of my younger self, which is still affected by those things that I was interested in when I was younger.

Inspiration should not be proprietary information. This is what I am passionate about. If you share the same passions that I do, you already possess the context to look beyond the art and the graphic itself. This is something that the brands that I admire always do, and this is also something that I always try to do as well. Clothing is primarily functional, but the graphic has the ability to make it more significant than the functional use alone.

This is the difference between reference and theft: transformation vs. transparency. Taking something that speaks, interpreting it through a new set of eyes, creating something new that is both new and familiar. Fashion, it never ends. It’s all part of a conversation. This series of work is my contribution to the conversation, created from a respect for the references, but definitively ours.

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The 2025 Uniform Journal Selections have arrived, and this year feels different. Not because the landscape has changed, but because algorithm-driven trends and mass-produced content are still dominant. The brands and voices selected are pushing against that current and feel more vital than ever. These selections are not only about paying tribute to great design, they are also about sustaining an open forum for diverse views and unique perspectives in fashion.

After nearly two decades in the industry, I’ve learned that the most lasting pieces aren’t the ones everyone’s talking about, they’re the ones that redefine what’s possible. These items have either been acquired or are at the top of my “needs to be a part of my uniform in the near future” list. From screenshots to saved photos on my desktop to Instagram collections, I’ve been tracking and marking items that deserve discussion. This year’s winners are:

Best Non-Sneaker: Birkenstock 1774

Birkenstock 1774 absolutely crushed it this year. The launch of Ensemble 1774, a new Paris-based creative platform designed to invite visionary designers to create original silhouettes, set the tone. Thibo Denis, the footwear designer behind some of Dior and Louis Vuitton’s most coveted shoes, debuted three exclusive models (Uerzell, Stroedt, Goerlitz) inspired by “climbing the city” with a Yosemite 1970s color palette. The KITH re-release brought back their signature braided Boston with hand-woven premium cow suede, celebrating the Boston’s upcoming 50th anniversary in 2026. Then Filson joined forces for a rugged outdoor collection featuring the London Methow, Lahti, and Skykomish, merging Mackinaw wool, waxed cotton, and Birkenstock’s Deep Blue footbed. Each collaboration this year felt intentional, and the execution has been flawless. It’s rare to see a brand fire on all cylinders like this.

Best Sneaker: Nike Air Max 95

I had to go look at my sneaker wall and think a bit about what I’ve been most excited about this year. I know the “can a retro be sneaker of the year?” conversation was a big one this year, but I think it’s valid. The answer is yes, it can be. Regardless of the year, if a new or retro release occurred, it’s on the table. The AM95 was the first shoe I bought for myself with money from my first job at The Gap, so when the 30th anniversary hit, I knew it would be a fun year. Nike went all in with the OG “Neon” in April, the “Bright Mandarin” brought back the iconic gradient, and UNDEFEATED just dropped their five-colorway pack in Holiday 2025. The Levi’s collaboration and SB versions were all so good, it’s honestly been hard to stop myself from buying them up. And it doesn’t seem like they’ll be letting up in 2026. Sergio Lozano’s design proved its timelessness all over again.

Best Caps: MAN-TLE

There are a lot of caps out there, trust me, I know. As someone who owns over 100 caps, this is the lane I’ve found myself in. Classic silhouettes that remix closures, materials, details. $150 is wild for a cap to most, but MAN-TLE is doing an amazing job. Founded in 2016 by Larz Harry and Aida Kim (who met while working at Comme des Garçons in Tokyo), MAN-TLE operates out of Perth but manufactures everything in Japan. Their R0C3 “Deep Cap” features high-density cotton chambray with paraffin wax coating, woven in Shizuoka and baked in Fukui. The signature slot button threaded onto car seatbelt tape for adjustment, the focus on durability and how the materials evolve over time, it’s all very intentional. Once this tariff situation is in order, one of their R0C3 models will be mine.

Best Tees: Human Made

Pictured are Human Made’s version of the Hanes pack. While different than their mainline blank (see: Warehouse Co.) used for graphics, it’s a super soft but nicely weighted tee. It washes and wears well. I buy a few packs a year and typically get a nice wear out of them. It’s a nice basic tee that can be worn by itself, as a base layer and even a lounge tee. That’s the normal lifecycle for me. Tariffs aside (since they are technically made in China), these are a great value. Three tees for around $60. NIGO’s attention to detail on even the basics shows why Human Made continues to set the standard for elevated streetwear essentials.

Best Pants: Beams Japan

Outside of Levi’s, Beams owns the most real estate in the UJ pants department. They can do no wrong in my opinion. There’s a suit collab they did with Canoe Club earlier in the year and the packable pants are almost too good to wear. I would rock them daily, but want to make sure they stay the same color as the jacket in the event that I want to wear the full suit. Now that they have a location in LA, I can save on the plane ticket to Japan and hop over when I need a fix. Beams has mastered the art of taking classic menswear silhouettes and making them feel contemporary without losing their foundational integrity, whether it’s their original line or the Beams+ workwear-inspired pieces.

Best Jacket: Levi’s x Sacai

I was one of the fortunate people to get my hands on this reversible Trucker/Bomber from Levi’s x Sacai. Two of my favorite brands coming together for another hit. First previewed at Paris Fashion Week during Sacai’s SS25 show, Chitose Abe reimagined hybrids of Levi’s Type I, II, and III jackets, sculpting, waisting, and bonding them with Sacai’s signature matelassé twill. The reversible blouson features a tailored exterior that flips to reveal exposed selvedge along the placket with sacai’s distinctive anchor buttons. I was sold once it hit the runway and the weather is finally here for me to put it into the rotation. The collection launched globally in May, and it’s exactly what you would expect to happen when deconstruction meets denim heritage.

Best Collaborator: Levi’s

You can’t deny that Levi’s was all over the place this year. In a year where Hypebeast also named them “Collaborator of the Year,” Levi’s VP of Collaborations Leo Gamboa orchestrated what he calls “high-low magic”, assembling an all-star team where each partner brings something different. As mentioned above, Sacai teased their collab in an earlier runway show and it was an instant hit once it released in May. The energy was off the charts for the Nike Air Max 95 capsule that dropped in July, celebrating the AM95’s 30th anniversary with denim-infused sneakers, a Trucker jacket, and baggy jeans featuring Red Tab details and dollar-bill-print sock liners. The Jordan teases are all over the place with an Air Jordan 3 collaboration set for Spring 2026. Can’t forget Kiko Kostadinov’s pattern-making mastery, the Barbour collaboration fusing waxed cotton with denim for the Bedale and Type II jackets, and The Denim Cowboy drop from Beyoncé. Sometimes when brands go too heavy on the collaboration side of things, it can feel oversaturated or try-hard in an effort to become more relevant, but each of these collaborators expanded Levi’s without stretching it thin.

Best Retail Shop: Canoe Club

I’m still not sure how I learned about Canoe Club, but I’ve been following them for the last couple of years. I’m subscribed to the Patreon, religiously watch their YouTube videos and listen to the Customer Service Podcast. I’ve yet to set foot in the store, honestly been a while since I’ve visited Colorado. But I’m on the site like it’s my homepage. The curation and care for the brands they buy and sell is really special. I’ve recommended them to many people looking for something different or looking to discover something new. Whether it’s their Beams collab suit or the way they contextualize each brand they carry, Canoe Club represents what independent retail should be; community-driven, education-focused, and committed to brands that deserve attention.

Best Storytelling: Story Mfg.

I mean, Story is in the name, so how could they not be considered for this. I have yet to purchase a piece from Story Mfg., but I feel like the time is coming soon. Another brand that I’ve been following for some time now, that is really finding their stride. Their care and attention to detail, their sustainable efforts and slow fashion techniques lend themselves to a lot of opportunities to educate and provide more context to their garments. Every piece comes with a narrative about its production, from natural dyes sourced responsibly to traditional weaving techniques that support artisan communities. In an industry increasingly focused on speed and volume, Story Mfg. proves that transparency and craft can coexist with commercial viability.

Favorite Book: Highsnobiety’s Incomplete Guide to Collaborations

While “Make It Ours” by Robin Givhan and “They All Came to Barney’s” by Gene Pressman were highlights of the year, the Highsnobiety Incomplete Guide to Collaborations is one I found myself continuing to come back to. It’s information heavy, but that’s what I love. I buy books for referencing and finding good bits to reconfigure for UJ. They’ve found a nice lane with this series, looking forward to what else they come up with in the future. Also their magazine relaunched this year, so that’ll be another key print piece to stay on top of. The book does exactly what it promises, providing a comprehensive look at how modern collaboration culture evolved from streetwear’s underground roots to becoming fashion’s dominant creative model.

Best Fashion Podcast: The Cutting Room Floor by Recho Omondi

Recho has been killing it this year. Apart from the pods I normally listen to, I tune into this one the moment a new episode is available. Highly recommend if you’re interested in meaningful discussions related to and surrounding the people and brands that matter most today. Omondi offers a critical lens with regard to the fashion industry that combines culture commentary with curiosity.

Brand to Watch in 2026: USAL

The team over at USAL is killing it. The apparel came second to their community and experiences, but I do believe their apparel is carving out a nice lane, think technical outdoor apparel with a streetwear approach. They won Best Cap of the Year a couple of years back and we’ve been following every move since. I think 2026 will be a year where they make their presence felt on a larger scale. While they’re doing strong work now in building community through events and experiences, their design language is maturing in a way that suggests they’re ready to compete on a broader stage without losing what makes them authentic.

About Uniform Journal Selections

The yearly Uniform Journal Selections are a recognition of style and a celebration of the need for diverse and unique perspectives in the ever-evolving fashion landscape. In an era when large corporations shape our daily visual experiences, this accolade stands as a testament to the importance of individuality.

Interested in working together? Whether it's consulting, writing, design, creative direction, or simply introducing yourself and your work, shoot me an email: info@uniformjournal.com.

When you’re running a small fashion company yourself, without any outside investment, certain things are a given. You can’t pre-produce multiple SKUs. You can’t invest thousands in pattern making and sampling before you know what your buyers are going to want. So you do what most new labels do, you start out with printable blanks.

The math all adds up. The blanks cost less and are a more affordable option. But they also create a strange irony for anyone who’s trying to make something original. You’re selling originality and having the same hoodies as a hundred other streetwear brands. Same weight. Same fit. Same everything, just with your design and label.

I’ve produced every order in-house since 2023. Not because I’m trying to chase sustainability points, though it is more sustainable, but just because that’s the only way budgeting will work. For years, I’ve been searching for a blanks vendor who would be able to offer something truly different. Something that wouldn’t make my brand look like every other brand in existence.

In a Gardena, CA warehouse, American Waste Enterprise rests on literal tons of second-hand apparel. The company launched their wholesale and direct-to-consumer site this week, and they have a straightforward philosophy: don’t keep making new, when perfectly good garments are already available.

They’re reclaiming vintage tees, crewnecks, hoodies, and turning them into wholesale blanks. De-tagging them, cleaning them, dyeing them where needed, and re-grading them for size uniformity. They are still dialing in their system and process, but wholesale and direct sales are the goal. It’s all top-only for now, but they’re planning to include flannels and mashup pieces, color-blocked hoodies created from donor fabric, patchwork patterns, et cetera. It’s stuff that stays itself but becomes something new.

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What’s great about it isn’t the retro look alone. It’s that even if the look is the same on multiple items, each blank has slight differences. Varying fades. Varying textures. True individuality, not staged individuality.

The definition of “vintage” is loose but reasonable, if it’s been around and lasted 20+ years, it’s in. Champion, Hanes, Russell, even H&M. If it still exists, it’s an option. The prices are comparable to regular blanks vendors, though this is clearly a higher-end product.

The Industry’s Honesty Problem

Here is what American Waste Enterprise gets right that not many “sustainable” fashion brands will admit: creating anything new is the problem. Anything. Even the most well-intentioned, eco-friendly production still equates to emissions, resource consumption, addition to waste stream. You can reduce the harm, but you’re not stopping it.

The fashion industry produces around 92 million tons of clothing waste every year. Less than one percent of materials used in clothing production get recycled into new garments. Meanwhile, brands blanket their websites with proclamations of recycled polyester and organic cotton and carbon offsets, as if tweaking inputs solves the fundamental issue of overproduction.

This is the greenwashing problem turned on its head. Companies wish to claim to be “sustainable” without acknowledging that the most sustainable course of action is to not create new things at all. Every item of clothing created, however greener the production process, is resource extraction, energy consumption, transport emissions, and eventually disposal. The greenest product is one that already exists.

American Waste Enterprise isn’t attempting to save the world. They’re just observing reality: you can reuse what’s already been made if you’re going to make something. It’s reducing harm, not virtue signaling.

Why the Blanks Business Needs This

The blanks market is stuck. There are more than a handful of large suppliers that all produce near-identical product. For smaller brands trying to carve out an individuality, this is an immediate disadvantage. You’re building your identity on the same platform as everyone else.

This is particularly the case with streetwear and graphic-influenced fashion. Walk through any city and you see the same silhouettes repeated endlessly, differing print and logo, but the same underlying garments. The blanks business has scaled for affordability and homogeneity, which is logically pleasing at scale. But it has also created monoculture.

Vintage blanks offer a way out. Each piece has a story, its own flaws. For brands built on authenticity and one-of-a-kindness, starting with a piece that already exists gives narrative depth that new production cannot. This isn’t romanticizing vintage for appearance, it’s recognizing that true one-of-a-kind is a product of real variation, not manufactured distressing or intentional damage.

There’s also a utilitarian perspective. Bespoke models reduce waste but do require up-front investment in material and samples. Vintage blanks can deliver lower minimums and competitive prices, while also significantly reducing environmental footprint. The clothes have already been created, the footprint is only for processing, dyeing, and shipping.

The Team

The operation is being led by alumni of General Admission, the Venice-based brand that was a cultural epicenter of independent streetwear and surf when it closed its doors. Together, they share a history of holding down executive positions at brands such as Brain Dead, creative leads at eyewear and footwear brands, and day-to-day control of production, merchandising, and sales operations.

This is not their first time building something from scratch. They’ve been through the whole cycle of independent fashion; creative vision, production logistics, retail economics. They’ve figured out what does and doesn’t work, which matters when you’re trying to build infrastructure for something that doesn’t quite yet exist. Most importantly, they understand what small brands actually need of a supplier: not just product, but consistency and reasonable minimums.

What This Truly Is

American Waste Enterprise is not an environmental savior by any means. That would be dishonest. They’re suggesting something easier: taking what already exists and creating something new out of it. The clothing is already made. It’s already in a warehouse. Bringing them out of storage prevents virgin material excavation, energy-guzzling farming, power-guzzling manufacturing. The cost on the environment is significantly reduced, though not eliminated.

To designers working on tight budgets and small runs, this is a definite option. You’re not losing out on sustainability or cost-effectiveness, you’re getting both simultaneously, and the benefit of product differentiation as well. Every blank is effectively one-off. It’s not marketing spin, it’s the nature of working with vintage.

They’re truly building a model that addresses a glaring gap in the market: why on earth are we still producing millions of new basic pieces when warehouses are full of perfectly lovely ones?

The answer has always been that new production is easier, more predictable, under control. Easy isn’t defensible anymore when the fashion industry is one of the world’s biggest polluters. All those pounds of clothing piling up in Gardena are both the problem (decades of overproduction) and the answer: at last using that overproduction is being used for something worthwhile.

In a culture obsessed with newness, the boldest thing to do might be to value what we already have. American Waste Enterprise isn’t solving fashion’s waste issue. But they’re offering a tangible alternative to participating in it. For large and independent companies tired of dressing like everybody else and supporting an imperfect system, this might just be enough.

—

For more information about American Waste Enterprise or to inquire about wholesale pricing and availability, visit https://www.americanwaste.studio or email sales@americanwaste.studio. Follow them on Instagram (@american.waste.enterprise) for the most up-to-date news.

We interrupt your regular programming for a public service announcement:

Hoodies need drawstrings again.

Somewhere along the way, perhaps the Los Angeles Apparel boom, perhaps minimalist streetwear in general, we collectively decided that the functional drawstring was something we didn’t need in the interest of clean lines and modern aesthetics. We sacrificed function at the altar of form.

But let’s get real: a hood without a drawstring is nothing but a useless piece of fabric flap. It won’t protect you from wind. It won’t cinch in the rain. It can’t provide adjustable coverage, which is the entire point of its being.

The downsides to drawstrings are well-known. There’s tangling in the wash. The string twists. Occasionally, it just comes right out and you’re left with one dangling string and one eyelet. That’s all minor stuff. The point that has not been made is that taking out the string changes the hood itself. The silhouette is different, the hood is less round and more pointed. Even the drape is different. We got rid of a few minor hassles in the wash and ended up with a hood that rests poorly on our heads.

This is not nostalgia. This is function. This is being able to tighten your hood when the weather turns, instead of having it blow uselessly around your head.

To the designers and brands: we like the look. We understand the vision. But we need our strings back.

This has been a public service announcement from Uniform Journal.

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We've all seen that dreaded gray placeholder where a picture used to be, the broken link icon that has replaced what was once content. "This image is no longer available." Four words that have become the eulogy of our era, marking thousands of little deaths in the vast cemetery of the internet.

I was reminded of this recently while trying to revisit an early article about Uniform Journal. Most of the links that I’ve bookmarked from the early 2010s only exist in fragments on the Wayback Machine, and even then, half the images won't load, the formatting is broken, and entire sections have vanished into the digital ether. It's disturbing to think about the effort that is put into individual posts from only a handful of years back now seems to be gone. This isn't just nostalgia talking. We're living through the largest information purge in human history, and most of us don't even realize it's happening.

Servers crash on a daily basis. Companies fail. Hosting charges go unpaid. Social media platforms vanish into thin air. The blog entry that had appeared so secure, that photo shoot, that interview, proves to be as ephemeral as morning mist. The web, all promise of durability and so on, is the most ephemeral medium we've ever come up with.

In terms of data, about 1.7 megabytes of new information will be created every second for every human being on the planet. There’s been more content created in the last decade than there's been in all of human history, and oddly enough, there's more content missing than there's ever been in the past. News articles written in the 1900s can be found in libraries now, try locating that first 2003 digital article, though.

It's not merely a question of technical failures. We're witnessing wholesale erasure of active content at a scale never seen before. Books get banned not only off shelves but off the internet altogether. Articles get erased when they become inconvenient. Images get erased when licenses run out or platforms realize it's cheaper to store nothing at all. It's the same irony of the internet's promise of the democratization of publishing: nothing is actually preserved under the new regime.

I reflect on the books lining my shelves from over twenty years ago, magazines, art catalogs, photography books, the list goes on. They remain readable, remain apt to catch me off guard flipping through them. Many of them include mentions of trends, technologies, and cultural touchstones bearing a prophetic tone for today. Such permanence is not merely reassuring; it's key to grasping the road we took here.

There's something magical in browsing through a magazine stand or bookstore storefront that computer will never catch up to. It's not the smell of paper and ink, though it's included. It's the weight of information in your hand, the tangible proof of the fact that someone cared enough about these images, these words, to publish them in physical form. It's the democracy of discovery, the discovery of something you never knew you needed simply because it was sitting on the same shelf you went looking for something else on.

When you buy a magazine, you own it. Not a right of access, not a subscription, but ownership. You can read it on a flight without internet, lend it to a friend, or locate it again in a box years later. That reader-to-content relationship is getting revolutionary by simply lasting forever.

This is not Luddism, it's pragmatism. Digital got us incredible reach and speed, but it's given us a culture of anything-is-temporary, anything-is-disposable, anything-can-change-at-a-moment's-notice. How many of you have tried to link an article only to find the link is dead? How many photographers have had whole portfolios disappear overnight due to platform updates or server crashes?

The future Virgil Abloh Archive exhibition at The Grand Palais in Paris is the realization of this statement. Abloh was aware that true cultural relevance is sustained over time through concrete documentation. His sketches, prototypes, and print materials will outlast any Instagram posting or website. They give a holistic narrative that internet fragments never can.

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It's no small matter that media outlets such as Complex and Vice, after having given up on print in pursuit of the convenience of the digital-native press, again look toward physical media. They're learning something librarians have long known: if you want something to endure, you have to entrust it to something more than code. This is particularly important coming into the era of content created by AI. How will future historians be able to sort out what did occur and what was generated by computer programs? How will we know if images, articles, or whole presses were created by someone's hands or by computer programs? Tangible items, paper trails, and print histories become even more important anchors of the truth.

We're at a tipping point here. A generation is coming of age without concrete physical evidence of their youth, no photo books, no in-hands yearbooks, no tear-off pages of magazine cutouts and taped-to-the-wall memories. It will be here in the clouds, at least, until it isn't.

But hope exists within the resistance. Independent publishing houses flourish. Zines are having a renaissance of sorts. Even large brands are finding print's power again, not so much for nostalgia's sake but for the permanence and authority it holds.

It's not only the mission, it's part of my vision for Uniform Journal. We want each and every feature, interview, photo we print, to exist in physical form. Not the backup to the online, but the original archive. Because twenty years down the road, after hard drives have crashed, and platforms have changed, those magazines and books will remain, still telling the story, still proving there was value in this time.

This future belongs to the individuals who understand that physical and digital are not competitors, they’re partners. Digital for speed and reach, physical for permanence and authenticity.

The next time you see that question mark or "image no longer available" message, don't just roll your eyes and keep scrolling along. Remember that it's something lost, something perhaps lost forever. The answer to all this is simple. Own what you create and print what matters.

There's nothing more satisfying than turning a design idea into a finished piece of clothing. For me, the magic happens in the act of screen printing a t-shirt. I can sketch or illustrate a design, burn a screen, and produce a wearable piece in 24 hours. If it connects, I can reprint it. If it doesn't, at least I have something I can wear myself. The cost of creating the screen itself is equivalent to the price of a single t-shirt, making experimentation affordable and failure proof. That immediacy, that ability to capture an idea and see it on someone within days, still amazes me.

Compared to sewing an entire garment, printing a tee is refreshingly direct. Don't get me wrong, constructing something from scratch, developing a cut, adjusting the pattern, sourcing materials, testing the fit, brings a deep sense of accomplishment. But it also takes time. And sometimes, even the most perfectly constructed pants won't tell you much about the person wearing them. Everyone wears pants. They're essential, universal, but silent. T-shirts speak.

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T-shirts are one of the only fashion items that communicate instantly. A graphic, whether it's small and understated or loud and disruptive, can reveal more about a person than their entire outfit. A tee might rep your favorite band, your hometown, a political stance, a joke, or an inside reference. It could be nostalgic, rebellious, ironic, or a time-stamped souvenir from a moment in your life. Either way, they're saying something. And most of the time, they're telling the truth.

That's why I've always loved designing tees. They're accessible to everyone. You don't need a big budget to buy one or much, if any, fashion knowledge to wear one well. After years of burning screens and watching people wear my designs, I've learned that the best messages don't need much, just a good idea and a blank t-shirt.

After writing about retail's copy/paste problem, I kept thinking about the stores that are worth visiting so much that they factor into your travel plans. You know the feeling when you're planning a trip to New York or LA and there's that one shop you absolutely have to hit, even if it means rearranging plans or staying an extra day. I've been obsessing over these places over the last few months, from Colbo in New York’s Lower East Side to Mohawk General Store and Mohawk Man out in Silver Lake, and here's what I've figured out: the stores actually getting it right refuse to play by everyone else's rules.

This makes me think about the stores we lost along the way, places like Totokaelo, Need Supply, and most of the Steven Alan locations (there's still one hanging on in New York). These were the original visionaries, the ones who figured out how to make retail feel personal and curated before anyone was talking about algorithms flattening culture. Totokaelo's stark, gallery-like spaces made shopping feel like an art experience.

Need Supply had this effortless mix of emerging designers and vintage finds that somehow always felt perfectly balanced. Steven Alan stores were like stepping into the closet of someone whose taste you trusted completely. Losing these places wasn't just about retail closures, it was about losing spaces that understood retail could be cultural, not just commercial.

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That's why this current selection of destination stores feel so important. They're carrying forward that legacy of thoughtful curation and authentic experience, proving there's still an audience for retail that treats customers like humans with taste. I’ve yet to visit Colbo, but from the images it looks like you’re stepping into the apartment of someone whose taste you've always admired but could never quite put your finger on why. Everything I see from their Instagram and hear from people who've been suggests they've nailed that thing where it's not just about carrying brands you've never heard of but immediately want to own. It's everything else. It’s the way a single jacket hangs on the wall like it's been waiting for the right person to find it, how every detail feels intentional.

This is what happens when retail stops being about moving inventory and starts being about creating moments. Mohawk General does something similar but with this distinctly LA energy that makes you want to completely redo your entire wardrobe. Walking through there feels like discovering the closet of a friend who happened to have unlimited access to every emerging brand worth knowing about. What gets me about these types of places is how they make browsing feel worth doing for its own sake, not just as a way to buy things.

That's the difference right there. Algorithmic retail versus retail with an actual soul. Places like Ven. Space and Departamento get that when everything's available online, physical spaces need to offer something you literally can't get anywhere else: the possibility of finding something you didn't even know you were looking for. The best shops create this feeling I can only describe as being let in on something. Canoe Club, Dr. Collectors, Union aren't places you accidentally wander into. You seek them out. They reward you for making the effort with access to items and experiences that feel genuinely exclusive, not in a pretentious way, but in a IYKYK way. What's wild is how this works even for bigger brands when they commit to it completely.

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Levi's could easily phone it in with generic denim showrooms, but their best flagships feel like walking through the history of American work culture, except you get to take pieces of that history home with you. Arc'teryx has somehow made buying a jacket feel like gearing up for an expedition, even when you're probably just commuting to work. Buck Mason nailed California simplicity in a way that feels effortless but probably took forever to figure out. Everything you need, nothing you don’t. Gary and Greg at Brother Brother make every single interaction feel personal, like shopping with a friend who happens to have incredible taste and somehow knows exactly what you need. Spaces by Bricks & Wood and Usal Project have figured out how to turn their stores into actual community spaces while still running a business, which honestly feels like cracking the cheat code in 2025.

I do find fascinating that some of my favorite retail stores are only partly about clothes. The Vowels Research Library in New York embeds reading, research, and design references into their retail experience, turning the shop into a destination for curiosity as much as commerce. Rocky's Matcha and Awake have people stopping by for a beverage experience that is as carefully curated as any clothing selection. Café Leon Dore basically proved that great retail isn't about what you sell, it’s about giving people reasons to want to spend time in your space, and KITH Treats made their cereal bar as much of a destination as their sneaker drops. Chris Gibbs mentioned in a recent interview that the new Union location in LA is definitely getting a cafe, and he's thinking about adding natural wine and a hi-fi listening room too. He’s basically adding in extensions of stuff he’s personally passionate about. It's not just about adding revenue streams, it's about creating layered experiences where shopping becomes a part of something bigger. When it's done right, it feels like a natural extension of whoever's behind the brand.

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Here's what all these places share, they're focused and intentional. None of them try to appeal to everyone, and that's exactly why they work. They understand who they are and what they’re trying to say and they design everything around that understanding. Curation beats volume every single time. Instead of overwhelming you with options, these places present carefully edited selections that make shopping easier, not harder. When someone with great taste has already filtered through the endless amount of brands in existence, you can trust their recommendations in a way you can't trust an algorithm that's just trying to box you into your online behavior. The vibe in these stores is a part of what you're buying. The feeling of being there matters as much as anything you walk out with. These retailers know their real competition isn't other stores, it’s social media, it’s the internet, it's staying home. Instead of being safe, they’ve chosen to create something memorable.

This is where physical retail is heading. You’ll never be able to beat online convenience, but you’ll always be able to offer experiences that screens can't replicate. These stores have turned shopping from a chore into entertainment, education, community building and sometime all 3 at once. The algorithm might being trying to flatten mainstream retail into sameness, but these places prove there's still room for retail with an actual personality. In a world where everything's starting to look the same, it’s time to find the things and places worth going out of your way for.

Shop list from most of the mentions:

• Colbo NYC: 51 Orchard Street, New York, NY 10002 (Mon–Sun 11 am–7 pm)

• Ven.Space: 369 Court Street, Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, NY (Wed–Sun, 12–6 pm)

• Mohawk General Store: 4011–4041 W Sunset Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90029 (Mon–Sun, 11–6 pm)

• Canoe Club: 777 Pearl Street, Boulder, CO 80302 (Mon–Sat 10–6; Sun 12–5)

• Union Los Angeles: 110 South La Brea Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90036 (Mon–Sat 11 am–7 pm; Sun 12 pm–6 pm)

• Dr. Collectors / Trading Post LA: 126 S. La Brea Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90036 (Mon–Sat 11 am–6 pm; Sun 12 pm–6 pm)

• Departamento (DPTO LA): 821 Traction Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90013 (inside Concierge Coffee, generally open till ~6 pm)

• Brother Brother: 5561 W. Adams Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90016 (Tue–Sun approx. 10 am–6 pm)

• SPACE(S) BY BRICKS & WOOD: 4571 W Washington Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90016 (Tue & Thur; by appointment, Fri-Sun 12pm–6 pm)

• Awake NY: 62 Orchard Street, Lower East Side, New York, NY 10002 (Mon–Sat 12 pm–7 pm; Sun 12 pm–6 pm)

• Café Leon Dore: 214 Mulberry Street, New York, NY 10012 (Mon–Sat 9 am–7 pm; Sun 9 am–6 pm)

• Kith Treats (Manhattan): 337 Lafayette Street, New York, NY 10012 (Mon–Sat 11 am–9 pm; Sun 11 am–8 pm)

• Kith Treats (Williamsburg): 25 Kent Avenue Suite 102, Brooklyn, NY 11249 (Mon–Sat 11 am–8 pm; Sun 11 am–7 pm)

• Vowels: 76 Bowery, Ground Floor, New York, NY 10013 (Wed–Sun 11 am–6 pm; by appointment for Research Library)

• Buck Mason (Nolita): 235 Elizabeth Street, New York, NY 10012 (Mon–Sat 11 am–7 pm; Sun 12 pm–6 pm)

I just finished reading Robin Givhan's "Make It Ours" and I'm once again inspired by Virgil. My main takeaways: don't be too precious about anything, be strategic, be prepared, be kind, make genuine connections, things take time, save your work, you are just as capable as others, if not more.

We're all aware of Robin's criticisms of Virgil's designs, which she still stands by, but that doesn't discount the hours of researching and thoughtful writing in this book. I'm from the school of "if you don't get it, then it's not for you…" and I think that was the case for a lot of people in traditional fashion and maybe still is true today. But those who did understand it when it was happening really embraced the moment, knowing that something special was taking place.

If you even casually followed Virgil throughout his career, most of what is talked about in this book won't be new to you. But, there are so many moments that were refreshing to relive through the read. Robin did a great job of painting a broad picture and narrowing in on Virgil's approach and how he navigated through the challenges.

Visiting Henry Taylor's "Sometimes a straight line has to be crooked" show over the weekend felt in the same vein of this writing. Through many paths, points of interest, experiences, studies and professional endeavors, the work may look different and the roads to get there by other artists (and designers) vary, but it all leads to the universe's planned destination.

Many professions required a linear approach in the past, and there will always be open seats for the experts and highly trained individuals, but that doesn't mean someone who takes a different path is less deserving of an opportunity. Robin did a great job at setting the table for how Virgil's LV takeover came to be and ultimately how this shift resulted in what we see today. Regardless of anyone's feelings, fashion is changed forever, and I think you'll be able to draw a clear line to compare the industry before Virgil/after Virgil.

According to recent data from the International Council of Shopping Centers, foot traffic to malls increased by 23% in 2024, with Gen Z shoppers making up 40% of that growth. Yet during a recent stroll through Westfield’s Century City mall, I realized that while retail is indeed back, it's lost its soul.

There was a time when every retailer had a distinct identity that hit you the moment you walked past. Abercrombie & Fitch assaulted your senses with cologne and models greeting customers at the entrance. Hot Topic felt like stepping into a music venue, complete with band merchandise and alternative culture vibes. Each store was a carefully curated experience that reflected a specific lifestyle and customer tribe.

Today, walking through most stores feels like navigating identical browser tabs. It's retail by algorithm. I saw the same trending items, the same aesthetic choices, and the same strategic product placements. A 2024 study by Retail Dive found that 67% of consumers couldn't distinguish between competing brands when shopping in multi-brand retailers, compared to just 34% in 2010.

After visiting a handful of different stores targeting young consumers, I experienced what felt like retail Groundhog Day. Here's the current formula that I’ve seen copy-pasted across the industry:

• Licensed apparel (Ford, racing brands, vintage inspired music tees)

• Sports merchandise (college, MLB, NBA)

• "Streetwear-inspired" pieces mimicking brands like KITH or Aimé Leon Dore

• Oversized graphic tees and boxy hoodies

• Wide-leg jeans or camo cargo pants

• New York or LA branded caps

This cookie-cutter approach isn't accidental either, it reflects what researcher Molly Fischer calls "the flattening of culture”, where social media algorithms create feedback loops that amplify the same trends across platforms, eventually trickling down to physical retail spaces. A McKinsey report from late 2024 noted that 78% of fashion retailers now source trend inspiration primarily from TikTok analytics rather than traditional forecasting methods.

But not every retailer has succumbed to this algorithmic approach. During my stroll around the mall, certain brands maintained their distinct identity:

• J.Crew still felt unmistakably preppy and considered

• Levi's maintained its authentic denim heritage

• Buck Mason offered a carefully curated California minimalism

• Uniqlo continued its functional, no-nonsense Japanese aesthetic

These brands succeed because they've maintained what strategist Byron Sharp calls "distinctive brand assets", the sensory and emotional cues that make a brand immediately recognizable and memorable.

Having worked retail for years, from Gap to American Eagle to Levi's to Steven Alan, I’ve witnessed this transformation firsthand. The shift from brand specific merchandising to trend chasing has created "the experience deficit". Stores have optimized for conversion rates and Instagram-worthy moments but forgotten that great retail is about creating spaces where customers feel they've discovered something uniquely aligned with who they are or aspire to be.

Research from the Harvard Business Review shows that customers who feel an emotional connection to a brand have a 306% higher lifetime value and are 71% more likely to recommend the brand to others. Yet most retailers are optimizing for a broader appeal rather than deep connection.

The antidote to retail homogenization isn't just differentiation, it's creating destinations worth traveling for. These are spaces that are so uniquely curated, that visitors feel compelled to purchase something regardless of whether they came looking for it.

Think of Dover Street Market's artful chaos, where fashion becomes gallery experience. Certain brands understand that in an age of infinite online options, physical retail must offer something irreplaceable: discovery, community, and experiences that can't be replicated through a screen.

The most exciting retail today happens at the intersection of curation and storytelling. Brands that succeed are those that resist the algorithm's pressure toward sameness and instead double down on what makes them irreplaceable. They understand that in a world where everything looks the same, differentiation isn't just a competitive advantage, it's a survival strategy.

As retail continues its comeback, the winners won't be those who follow every trend, but those brave enough to set them. The question isn't whether retail is back, it's whether it will remember what made it worth visiting in the first place.

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Part two of this series will explore the retail experiences that remind you why physical stores matter and the spaces that turn shopping from a transaction into an adventure.

Online shopping is convenient, but there's always been one major problem—you never really know how something will fit until it arrives at your door. That uncertainty leads to hesitation, frustration, and a massive number of returns. But what if you could see exactly how clothes from any website would look on you before buying?

That’s where Doji comes in, it’s a cutting-edge virtual try-on app that uses AI to map garments onto a digital version of yourself. What sets Doji apart from other virtual try-on solutions is its remarkable accuracy—the moment I saw it in action, I was convinced this tech could fundamentally transform the online fashion retail landscape.

Founded in 2022 by Stanford graduate and former Apple engineer Dorian Dargan, Doji emerged from a simple but powerful insight: online shopping would never reach its full potential until customers could accurately visualize products on themselves. Drawing from his background in machine learning and user experience design, Dargan built Doji to solve the persistent problem of fit uncertainty that plagues online fashion retailers.

After securing initial funding from Alexis Ohanian's 776 Foundation and completing successful trials with several boutique clothing brands, Dargan has positioned Doji as a potential game-changer in e-commerce, blending cutting-edge AI technology with an intuitive user experience that appeals to both consumers and retailers alike.

The Problem Doji Solves

Even those with the best imagination can't always envision how something will truly fit. Sizing issues drive 30-40% of returns in fashion e-commerce, creating frustration for shoppers and lost revenue for retailers.

Doji changes this equation by offering hyper-personalized shopping experiences where you can see clothes on your virtual twin before committing to a purchase.

From Standalone App to Retail Powerhouse

Right now, Doji is an incredible tool for consumers looking to preview outfits before purchasing. But in my opinion, its real power lies in how it could be integrated directly into retailer websites. Imagine shopping at your favorite online store and, instead of guessing about fit, you simply click a "Try It On" button—powered by Doji.

Similar to Klarna revolutionizing checkout with embedded "Buy Now, Pay Later" options, Doji has the potential to become the industry standard for virtual fittings.

Why Doji Could Transform E-Commerce

• Solves a major pain point – Dramatically reducing returns and increasing consumer confidence

• Seamless brand integration – Retailers could license Doji's tech to create in-house try-on functions, keeping customers engaged

• Increased conversion rates – AI-generated avatars make online shopping feel more immersive, encouraging purchases

The Big Picture

As online shopping becomes more dominant, the future isn't just about selling more clothes—it's about selling smarter. Doji's AI could bridge the gap between digital convenience and in-store confidence, making the act of buying clothes online as natural as trying them on in a fitting room.

The question isn't if this tech will take off—it's when. And Doji might just be leading the charge.

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Supreme: A Case Study in Perception Whiplash

Few brands illustrate this phenomenon better than Supreme. Founded in 1994 as a skateboard shop in New York, Supreme built its reputation on exclusivity, underground credibility, and a distinct aesthetic. When VF Corporation acquired the brand for $2.1 billion in 2020, the internet erupted with eulogies for Supreme's "authentic era."

"Supreme is over," declared longtime fans. "Corporate sellout," echoed others across social media. The narrative was clear: Supreme had abandoned its roots for mainstream success and would inevitably water down its identity to maximize profits.

Yet in the years following the acquisition, Supreme's operations remained remarkably consistent—limited drops continued on the same schedule, collaborations maintained their cultural relevance, and the scarcity model that built the brand persisted. The product hadn't changed; only the perception had.

This pattern repeated when Tremaine Emory was appointed Creative Director. Initially, his arrival sparked hope for a creative renaissance, only for his eventual departure to trigger another wave of cynicism. Through it all, Supreme's collections remained true to the brand's historic DNA, yet consumers couldn't help but view these releases through the lens of corporate influence and creative turmoil.

The Predictable Cycle of Brand Perception

This perception pendulum follows a nearly universal pattern across fashion and cultural brands:

1. Discovery & Admiration: A brand gains recognition for its unique point of view and authentic positioning

2. Peak Popularity: Increased visibility leads to mainstream acceptance

3. Backlash: Overexposure triggers claims of declining quality or "selling out"

4. Dormant Period: The brand continues its work while public attention moves elsewhere

5. Nostalgic Revival: A new generation discovers the brand without prior baggage, or original fans rediscover what they initially loved

The irony is that throughout this cycle, many brands maintain consistent quality and creative direction. Comme des Garçons, Nike, and countless others have weathered similar perception shifts while their core approach remained stable.

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Understanding the Disconnect

Why does this disconnect between reality and perception persist? Several factors are at play:

• Personal Evolution: As we grow and change, our relationship with brands naturally evolves

• Cultural Context: External events and shifting cultural values influence how we interpret brand actions

• Narrative Power: Stories about a brand often overshadow the actual products they produce

• Authenticity Paradox: Success itself becomes evidence of "selling out" in certain subcultures

What's remarkable is how little the actual products matter in this equation. A hoodie from Supreme's 2018 collection is functionally and aesthetically similar to one from 2022, yet they exist in entirely different perception ecosystems.

The Pendulum Always Swings Back

For brands that maintain quality through perception shifts, redemption is almost inevitable. The same Supreme that was declared "dead" after its acquisition will likely experience a renaissance of cultural relevance in the coming years—we’re already feeling this shift with the most recent release. A new generation, unburdened by memories of the brand's independent era, will discover Supreme on its own merits.

This cycle offers an important lesson for both consumers and brands: great product outlasts fleeting perception. While public sentiment may swing wildly between admiration and disdain, brands that stay true to their core vision ultimately endure.

Perhaps it's time we acknowledged our own role in this perception pendulum and learned to see brands for what they are—not what narratives tell us they've become.

The 2024 Uniform Journal Selections have arrived and are more than just a recognition of style – these selections celebrate the diverse perspectives in fashion at a time when algorithms increasingly shape our visual experiences and dictate trends. Drawing from nearly two decades in the fashion industry, it's really important for me to champion personal expression and unique voices, envisioning a future where genuine creativity and individuality drive fashion forward.

These Selections encourage both individuals and designers to break free from homogenized influence and mass-produced content to demonstrate that authentic personal style remains vital in redefining fashion's narrative. These items have either been acquired or are at the top of my "needs to be a part of my uniform in the near future" list. From screenshots to saved photos on my desktop to Instagram collections, I've been tracking and marking items that deserve discussion. This year’s winners are:

Best Non-Sneaker Dr.Marten x MM6

Best Sneaker Nike x Kids of Immigrants Air Max SNDR

Best Retail Shop Mohawk General Store

Best Hat B. Thom Stevenson (Various 1 of 1 Hat Studies)

Best Jacket Supreme x Martine Rose Reversible Trucker Jacket

Best Graphic Tees b.Eautiful

Best Pants Uniqlo C Parachute Pants

Best Collaborator Palace

Brand to Watch in 2025 Aaron Levine NY by Aaron Levine

Best Storytelling Joe Fresh Goods

Best Fashion Podcast Blamo! by Jeremy Kirkland

About Uniform Journal Selections

The yearly Uniform Journal Selections are a recognition of style and a celebration of the need for diverse and unique perspectives in the ever-evolving fashion landscape. In an era when large corporations shape our daily visual experiences, this accolade stands as a testament to the importance of individuality.

Now that algorithms curate our content experiences and dictate trends, the UJ Selections Golden Poppy Award encourages a shift towards embracing personal style and highlighting unique voices. With close to two decades in the fashion industry, Uniform Journal understands the significance of breaking free from the homogenizing influence of algorithms.

This award champions the idea that fashion is a deeply personal expression, urging individuals, designers and brands to embrace their distinctive visions. Uniform Journal believes that the future of fashion should be shaped by genuine creativity and individuality, not merely conforming to what algorithms predict or large corporations dictate. My aim is for the UJ Golden Poppy to become a beacon for those who dare to challenge the status quo, encouraging the industry to celebrate the richness that comes from diverse perspectives.

As someone deeply rooted in my own personal uniform, I recognize the power of authenticity. This award, with its roots in personal experience and a commitment to individual expression, stands as a counter-narrative to the algorithm-driven, mass-produced content saturating the fashion world. It envisions a future where the UJ Golden Poppy becomes a symbol of rebellion against conformity, inspiring a generation to embrace their unique voices and redefine the narrative of style.

The "Gym Clothes" collection has always been more than just apparel—it's a narrative of movement, unity, and personal history. Now in its third year, this capsule collection draws deep from the wells of athletic heritage, specifically those timeless sportswear basics that have defined comfort and style for generations.

When we first launched, the goal was simple: create team-inspired essentials that felt both nostalgic and contemporary. Those classic graphics you remember from elementary and high school sports spirit are distilled into every piece. This year's collection doubles down on that vision with a palette of athletic grays, blue and white.

Each garment is a tribute to the uniforms that have united teams, defined subcultures, and created a sense of belonging. Clean lines, iconic silhouettes, and a commitment to quality—all hand screen printed by me.

Substack subscribers shop early with password UJGYM24, located at the bottom right corner of the site. Releasing at 8a PT for subscribers and 10a PT for the public. Site will be open through the weekend or until it sells out.

As a Millennial, I've grown up in a generation that bridged two different worlds: the analog and the digital. The '90s were an era of findings, explorations, and subcultures all requiring physical contact. If someone was into a certain music scene, they found their community at shows or record shops. Fashion was not as accessible as it is in today’s society; it took time to learn about what was in style, often from seeing what one's favorite artist was wearing in a magazine or at a concert. For many Millennials, these are touchstone moments linked to deeper memories of a simpler, more analog life.

Our generation remembers a time before the internet everywhere. We find that the thrill with finding a new band or fashion brand often came from friends or word of mouth. You would come up with your look based on what you could afford or find at local stores, second-hand shops, or from hand-me-downs from friends and older siblings. Without Pinterest and Instagram, discovery happened at a snail's pace.

This era — the 90s and early 2000s — has become a cherished time for many Millennials. It represents a golden age, before the homogenization of culture through algorithms (which I spoke about here), where individuality was shaped through personal experiences and not driven by the need to keep up with social media trends. But as we entered the digital age, it became clear that the rate of cultural and fashion evolution began to slow down. Unlike previous generations who saw stark differences between the decades (think the 60s, 70s, and 80s), Millennials have largely witnessed the recycling of ideas, trends, and aesthetics over the past two decades. And now, after 20+ years of digital life, many of us are yearning for the feeling of those formative years — a pre-internet world that feels far away but still shapes us.

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Gen Z, on the other hand, was born into the digital age. Their formative years were shaped by rapid technological advancements and a world where the internet was already central to daily life. Unlike Millennials, they don’t have the direct memory of a world before social media, smartphones, and streaming services. Yet, despite being digital natives, there’s a remarkable trend among Gen Z toward embracing the very past that many Millennials are nostalgic for.

For Gen Z, retro fashion, music, and lifestyle choices offer a kind of secondhand nostalgia. They are discovering the joy of subcultures, the slower pace of life, and the intentionality that came with pre-digital living. But instead of experiencing these things firsthand, they are curating their understanding of the past through YouTube videos, TikTok, and online thrifting platforms like Depop, etc. It’s a digital interpretation of an analog era, but one that has resonated deeply with them.

What’s interesting is that Gen Z is not only adopting trends from the 90s and early 2000s, they’re picking up the pieces of what was left behind by previous generations and breathing new life into them. Take, for example, the resurgence of Y2K fashion — low-rise jeans, metallics, chunky sneakers, and butterfly clips — all of which have been embraced by Gen Z. But they’re doing it with their own twist, mixing in sustainability, gender fluidity, and body positivity, things that were less prevalent during the original heyday of these trends.

What’s truly fascinating is how, for perhaps the first time in recent history, two distinct generations are yearning for many of the same things. Normally, there’s a clear division between what older generations hold dear and what younger generations are interested in. However, Millennials and Gen Z seem to be gravitating towards similar aesthetics, values, and cultural markers.

Both generations have found themselves drawn to retro aesthetics and the lifestyles of past decades. For Millennials, it’s a return to what we knew and loved; for Gen Z, it’s the discovery of something novel and exciting. Vintage shopping has become a shared hobby, with both groups frequenting thrift shops, not just for the affordability but for the authenticity that comes with owning a piece of history. Vinyl records, once on the verge of extinction, have made a massive comeback, with Gen Z collectors flocking to the medium in droves, much like Millennials did during their indie music days.

The blending of these two generations can also be seen in how both approach fashion and identity. Personal expression through fashion has become central to both, with an emphasis on individuality, creativity, and sustainability. Gen Z’s penchant for upcycling and thrifting aligns perfectly with the Millennial’s love for nostalgia, as both groups seek authenticity in a world that often feels over-curated.

One might ask why this convergence is happening now. Part of the reason, as I see it, is that the last 20+ years have not seen the same level of cultural progression that previous generations experienced. The rapid technological growth of the early 2000s might have set the stage for innovation, but when it comes to fashion and lifestyle, there has been less differentiation between decades. Trends have become cyclical, with the internet playing a role in accelerating the recycling of aesthetics.

Unlike the cultural shifts seen in the late 20th century, where new movements in fashion and music felt distinct, the 2010s and 2020s have largely been about looking back. Millennials, in particular, have been stuck in a loop of reviving past trends, perhaps because the nostalgia for simpler times is more alluring in an age where everything feels immediate and overwhelming. Meanwhile, Gen Z, having grown up in a world dominated by screens, sees the pre-digital world as almost exotic — a time worth exploring and adopting in their own way.

In a way, this intersection is a beautiful thing. Millennials and Gen Z are finding common ground in their love for the past, even if they are coming at it from different angles. It’s rare to see two generations so aligned in their appreciation of the same cultural artifacts, but in doing so, they’re shaping a new, shared vision of what fashion and lifestyle can be. Retro is no longer just about nostalgia; it’s about the blending of past and present to create something new for today.

The cultural overlap of Millennials and Gen Z’s fashion and lifestyle preferences presents a dynamic cultural space wherein the tradition of generational boundaries is increasingly blurred. While distinct differences still exist, common values related to sustainability, authenticity, and digital engagement create a significant overlap. In turn, brands and businesses that can successfully navigate this intersection by respecting the unique characteristics of each generation will be best positioned for future success.

Whether it’s through retro-inspired fashion with modern sustainability practices, or tech that brings analog experiences into the digital realm, the potential is vast. Brands like Nike and Adidas, which have mastered the art of re-releasing previously successful styles, are continuing to increase their value through this cross-generational appeal. Smaller brands are tapping into this by offering products that merge timeless designs with modern values — creating something that speaks to both the longing for the past and the forward-thinking ideals of today’s youth.

As both groups continue to embrace these shared values and aesthetics, we might see even more cross-generational collaborations in fashion, music, and culture. It’s a testament to how powerful nostalgia can be — not just as a longing for the past, but as a tool for connecting us across time and space.

The BoF Podcast | How Zac Posen is Reenergising Gap Inc.

Veteran fashion designer Zac Posen took a surprise career pivot and joined Gap Inc. as creative director earlier this year. In this interview with Business of Fashion's Imran Amed, below, Posen reflects on his transition from running his own luxury label-known for red carpet glamour and celebrity clientele-to a new role overseeing creative direction for Gap's portfolio of brands.

After shuttering his namesake brand in 2019, Posen aligned with the new CEO of Gap Inc., Richard Dickson, to discover a new challenge: injecting heritage American brands like Gap, Old Navy, Banana Republic, and Athleta with fresh cultural relevance and excitement. While some think this is an odd pairing and that it’s not Zac, I get it. But what we want for someone may not always be what they want for themselves. Regardless, GAP needs something to start driving more interest, so I’m with it.

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How Dupe Culture is Challenging Traditional Luxury

These days, luxury prices have gotten so out of hand that even people with some disposable income are thinking twice about splurging. That's where a new wave of brands is stepping in with a clever solution: high-quality "dupes." This episode of The Debrief from The Business of Fashion is about just that.

Companies like Quince and Italic are taking a different approach. Though it’s been seen it before, especially in the DTC boom (see: Everlane), we haven’t seen the side by side comparison in the marketing. Instead of mysterious markups, they show you exactly what you're paying for—from materials to manufacturing. For folks watching their bills climb every week, this transparency feels like a breath of fresh air. Plus, if you've been on TikTok or Instagram lately, you've probably seen influencers raving about these affordable alternatives, making dream items feel within reach again.

I’m on the fence with this one, because I’ve always wanted the real thing or nothing. It’s rare that I’m on the quest for “a look” but for less, which is ultimately what this is. In addition to the look, people want the logo, the quality, the brand story. If a company is offering an item that I’m on the hunt for—regardless of brand, and it’s high quality at a lower than market price, I’m willing to try. But, I’m not beginning my search with I want that but I can’t afford it so I’ll just get this. Reminds me of all the “we have that at home” memes, at least that’s how I feel.

Ultimately, these dupe brands will have to start moving beyond the price. "The next step is identifying unique storytelling and product value," says Morris, since it will distinguish them further and take them away from being just the cheaper alternative in an ever-evolving market. After all, nobody wants to be known as just the budget version of something else, right?

Tremaine Emory & Marc Jacobs

If you’ve ever seen an interview with Tremaine, you’ll know how pivotal his time in the Marc Jacobs stockroom was in shaping his career and friendships in fashion. Hearing Marc speak is always a pleasure—his career trajectory and ongoing passion bring such fresh energy to the brand, even after all these years. Still bummed I didn’t get the Futura Pointman Necklace.

The main reason for this chat was to celebrate Jacobs' 40th anniversary and sharing some insight into the collaborative process behind their latest bag—a fresh take on Marc’s classic Tote Bag that has since sold out. While the conversation didn't break new ground, it was good to hear their perspectives on design, the current pulse of fashion, and the relationships that have shaped it.

Speaking of Marc, if you’ve never watched this documentary, I suggest you do so asap.

Wake up babe, the new Lyst Index for Q3 just dropped

The luxury space isn’t something that I pay a ton of attention to, but I’m aware of what’s going on. On Lyst’s Q3 Index, Miu Miu moves up to the #1 spot, while Loewe drops one to #2 (from the Q2 results). NN.07 having +142% rise in demand definitely caught my eye as well—my guess is everyone if looking for the Gael 8267 Wool Blend Shirt Jacket now that cold weather is upon us. Check it out and see if any of your favorites are in the mix.

H2 Drop 2

In you've been living under a rock, Heron Preston teamed up with H&M for a little thing called H2. Their 2nd drop happened last week and is faring decently. The multi-faceted collaboration is purposed to marry accessibility with elevated and sustainable design. The staple items are gender-neutral and all designed for longevity, adaptable to style types. Based on the "power of two," the campaign deals in connectivity, conversation, and personal individuality—all things that fall under H2's umbrella of fashion for all. I have the sweats and one of the jerseys from the first drop, but the Y2K is turned up too much for me. The bombers are the standout, along with his jersey tops, but this new addition of sneaker feels a little forced, especially at the price point of $220 plus. It’s worth taking a look though, the potential paths and innovations this collaboration could forge are promising.

Asics x Nonnative Gel Terrain

No words needed. Just look at them. They dropped last week, but only +50 on the resale.

Why Do Artist Neglect Their Merch

Undiscovered.IG recently posed a question I completely agree with: if you’re an artist, why wouldn’t you want quality across the board? That goes for everything from the music to the merch. Not everyone wants to be a fashion designer, but most artists and their teams could step it up. If you’re not invested in making quality merch, don’t do it. Fans are already making bootleg merch, often with more care, and I'd rather support that.

Personally, I think bundling merch with albums was a mistake. These bundles shift focus from artistry to profit, diluting the album’s creative value. Fans buy merch to support artists and for exclusivity, while artists and labels often prioritize volume over quality.

Low-quality or delayed merch erodes trust. Fans feel undervalued if items arrive months late or don’t meet expectations, making them less likely to buy again. Eventually, this weakens loyalty and reduces support for future projects.

The issues are real though—Travis Scott’s Utopia finishes were inconsistent, Kanye’s Vultures merch felt cheap, and Playboi Carti’s Narcissist graphics were undersized. My take? Skip it. Unless I’ve seen it in person or trust the brand’s quality, I’d rather buy a hat or tee from an artist I know cares.

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Podcasts and discussions I’ve listened to…

The Debrief | Can Department Stores Save Themselves?

More and more, we’re realizing the negative effects of being a publicly traded company. Decisions aren’t being made in favor of the consumers or the brands they carry. Decisions are rooted in profit & losses and what will favor or keep the board and investors happy. This episode takes inventory of what’s happening in the department store space and how some are seeking to go private to get back on top.

PLEASE EXPLAIN by Complex: James Whitner Discusses Why There is a Lack of Black Ownership in Streetwear

This is honestly one of the best interviews/conversations that I have listened to in a long time. And I listen to a lot. A deep dive into the mind of a Black owner — this conversation resonated with me on so many levels. From the storytelling to the vision for the future, it’s clear that A Ma Maniére is here to stay.

"Please Explain Hosted by Aria Hughes" is an explainer show about culture, fashion, and music that brings context, not confusion, to the internet.

James Whitner, owner and founder of The Whitaker Group, which includes popular boutiques A Ma Maniére, Social Status, and APB, sits down with Aria Hughes, Complex's Editor-in-Chief, to discuss his case being over, the lack of Black ownership in streetwear, and what's wrong with the sneaker market.

Ghetto Runways Episode 6 - Don C

There aren’t enough kind words I can say about Don C. He’s honestly one of the most genuine and kind dudes I’ve ever met. His impact on the culture isn’t talked about enough. This conversation definitely needs to be watched.

Long live Karl Lagerfeld. This image has so much more meaning now.

LVMH sells 60% of Off White to Bluestar on Virgil’s birthday

Okay look. I’ve got a lot to say on this. And I think I need to write something longer at a later date, but I had to say something since I haven’t written an entry since this news broke. I spoke on the fact that things have been on a rapid decline since Virgil’s passing in UJSS03. Off White was and still is a necessary brand in my opinion, but things have just taken too much of a departure from the core for me to still care. The announcement taking place on Virgil’s birthday was unfortunate, as much as some think it was intentional, I believe there’s a world where a deal took place and was announced without even thinking about what day it was. Crazy coincidence and super shitty if it was known and still released, but I said the below on X…

I don’t know what needs to happen for people to understand that these brands do not care about us or anything we care about. The news breaking on V’s bday was a bummer, but at the end of the day people need to stop expecting these companies & billionaires to have a heart.

A lot of times our feelings and emotions are attached to the best of something. There’s no denying that Off White and Virgil changed the game. It’s tough to watch something that used to be great, not be great anymore — see Jordan on the Wizards, Shaq on the Celtics, etc. We always want the story to end on a high note and for the main characters to ride off into the sunset unscathed. I’m not confident that Bluestar Alliance will do the brand justice, especially seeing the other brands on their roster. If the family was still in charge, I could see shutting it down and cementing its legacy without damaging it further, but since that’s not the case — I am just hoping for the best.

Loafer Beef: Hartcopy is caught in the crossfire

Is anything original any more. I frequently apply Virgil’s 3% rule to my design work. But I think brands have gotten a little too comfortable running with an idea 1:1 just because it’s been off the shelf for a couple of years. While no idea is original and animal patterns + horse bits have been seen on loafers for decades, this one felt a little cheap — in more ways than one. All you need to do is read through the comments in this Hartcopy post to see what happened between Blackstock & Weber and Duke + Dexter. All I will say is Duke + Dexter needs to try a little harder if “Made Different” is gonna be the tagline.

Stussy coming back to NY

Nature is healing. Stussy is set to reopen a door in NY after closing up shop at their previous location, now Denim Tears, in 2023. Retail is coming back and I can’t wait. I’m spoiled in LA, we’ve got a pretty healthy retail scene here, but I’m happy to see NY getting back to full strength again.

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Fast fashion as durable as luxury… Hmmmm

I had to chuckle at this one, but you can read it for yourself. Definitely a “Fast Fashion isn’t that bad” study, paid for by Fast Fashion. While Primark didn’t conduct the study themselves, I’m sure they influenced the outcome in their favor. Along with retailers such as Zara and H&M, Primark contributes to the contemporary fast fashion trend. According to an article about Primark in The Economist, "For many shoppers, Primark has an irresistible offer: trendy clothes at astonishingly low prices. While I’m sure there are some great quality items at an affordable price, and some not so great items that are expensive, it’s not as simple as “but are products are kinda the same”. There’s a huge responsibility when it comes to how these items are being produced, their impact on the environment, and especially the materials being used—most being synthetic in the fast fashion space. The conversation is way more nuanced than this report shows and we should all do our part in doing our own research and not being swayed by a not-so-independent study.

Releases on my radar:

• J.Crew x Engineered Garments. Haven’t seen the full collection yet, but I’m sure it’ll be solid. Drops tomorrow.

• Palace x Beams+ are joining forces for the first time and it’s really good.

• Stray Rats x Bounty Hunter. This one feels new and old at the same time. Julian really knows how to collaborate.

• Bricks & Wood New Balace 1906U. Another solid release from the B&W crew, they’ve really started to carve their own lane in the sneaker game. NB has to be on of the top sneaker brands in the collaboration space at the moment.

• Basketcase ‘Alphabet’ collection. Zach is back at it — been waiting for this hoodie to drop. Football top is looking cool too.

• Honolulu Pawnshop just dropped a really cool collection, most of it has sold out, but there are a few items still available online.

• Old Navy ’94 Reissue. If every other mall brand can make a comeback, why can’t Old Navy? I’m here for it. Never hurts to have a couple of extra fleece items in the closet.

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Podcasts I’ve listened to…

I’m going to start adding a link dump for podcasts to the journal entries. In some instances, they spark future ideas, validate, or challenge my thoughts on certain topics. Whenever you have the time, these are all worth the listen.

Blamo!

Mike McLachlan of Manresa

Mike is doing amazing things with Manresa, I’ll keep saying it, but the 207 jeans are still my favorite pair to wear (next to my vintage 501s). It was cool hearing about his journey into the industry and the inspiration behind the designs. My favorite was the conversation around making clothes for things you actually do. There’s an energy that surrounds the brand and when it comes from an organic place. Shouts out to Jeremy Kirkland — you can always count on a good conversation when he’s on the mic.

Bof Debrief: Luxury Fashions Diversity Problem

This isn’t just a fashion problem, but fashion easily one of the most polarizing when it comes to diversity. Dismantle DEI programs and departments all you want, but that just means there’s an added responsibility for those at the top. [Me speaking to them] You have to live a diverse life and surround yourselves with people who don’t look and think the same way you do, otherwise, nothing will change. This was an interesting conversation though, nothing you haven’t heard before, but necessary to keep the dialogue going in an effort to make change.

Bof Debrief: Why Does Menswear All Look The Same

There’s a new playbook being written in men’s fashion and most brands are happy sticking to it because they can (for now). Marketing strategies and design aesthetics have been proven and the need for true identity isn’t really necessary, especially if people are still buying it. How should consumers respond? Will all of the “hot” brands of today be around 5, 10, 20, 30 years from now? Should we be asking for more, or is it all a necessary part of the game? I for one just don’t buy it, but I’m in the minority. Definitely worth the listen.

James Jeter new CD at Polo Ralph Lauren

James M. Jeter was recently promoted to Creative Director, Design & Brand Direction for Men's Polo at Ralph Lauren and is the first Black Creative Director in the 57 year history of Polo Ralph Lauren. This happened post NYFW, so the RL show took center stage, but his IG bio is updated and he seems to be excited and ready for his new role. Looking forward to seeing what this chapter of Polo will look like. If it’s anything like the designs and storytelling that released with his HBCU-inspired collection, the brand is in good hands.

How the fashion industry is grappling with "deadstock"

CBS News posted this during NYFW and thought it was a good follow up to my previous entry that discussed how California is approaching the waste issue in fashion. This video highlights a convenient and transparent recycling and reuse fabric service called Fab Scrap. Their mission is to maximize the value of unused fabric and consider themselves to be an affordable and accessible materials resource. Something to consider if you’re in the business of making apparel. Their annual report from 2023 is also worth a skim.

The Man Who Made Nike Uncool

I laughed pretty hard when this article came out, cause the media seemed to be done with John Donahoe. It’s funny to me when there’s a clear agenda and all parties are working together until it happens. That’s what this felt like. I don’t recall any positive news about this guy in the last calendar year, but the recent news was painting a clear picture for the future of the Swoosh. Clearly Nike was over him too, and the campaign to oust him succeeded before I could post about it. I was going back & forth in my DMs with people about Nike’s future and made a comment regarding John Donahoe saying, “if it was up to me, he’d be gone today” and to my surprise he was out the next day. There’s been a ton of discourse, before and after this announcement of a change at the CEO position. Bobby Hundreds wrote The Case for Nike right after this Bloomberg article was posted, and I’ve previously shared my thoughts on the need to diversify plus innovate the offering. Overall, Nike just needs to get back to their core of sport first and forget about the data for little. There’s been a lot of praise about Nike Veteran, Elliott Hill, returning to the brand to takeover the position. I’m sure we have all seen the screenshot of his LinkedIn work history.  I’ll reserve my thoughts on that for now, but will leave you with the following—“yesterday's home runs don't win today's games.” - Babe Ruth

The Monroe County History Center presents Illustrating Identity: Senior Cords in Monroe County

Avery Trufelman tweeted about this Illustrating Identity exhibit the other day and I thought it was pretty cool. It’s always interesting to read about the origins of a sartorial tradition. I’ve seen everyone from Bode to Ralph Lauren release a version and have an ongoing dialogue with myself about what a UJ take on this would be. I’ll get back to that soon.

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Speaking of which—has anyone else noticed the rise in sportswear, physical ed. designs and logo lockups?

My love of sports and vintage Champion really inspired my initial Gym Clothes collection and have remained a part of the Uniform Journal brand identity, but over the last 6 months, I noticed them popping up everywhere. Obviously they’ve always existed, but it has made me step back and evaluate the space more. I feel like we’re approaching trend/aesthetic levels with what I’m seeing lately. It’s easy to spot who is doing it to do it and when it’s a natural part of the brand dna. Enjoy the elementary bball photo.

Listen when Pharrell speaks…

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