The Swiss Egotist

The latest edition of PITTI UOMO didn’t offer any major surprise, but it did have a few knockout collections from household names, chiefly Camoshita’s.

Founded in 2007, Camoshita is  the brainchild of Yasuto Kamoshita, who is one of the founders behind Japanese “it” retail destination United Arrows.

The brand is basically an homage to Italian tailoring (Mr. Kamoshita actually honed his skills under Antonio Liverano), rendered through the prism of 100% Japanese production.

The only qualm I had with Camoshita in the past was the fit, which was too “loose”, and not in a good sense. What I’ve seen my eyes, this time around, was a mix of narrower silhouettes and the usual attention to details when it comes to fabrics and make. So basically now we are in sartorial Nirvana!

“Made in Occupied Japan” is one of those extremely hard-to-find brands out of - you guessed it! - Japan.

As far as I know, they only have one retailer in the Western World (the privilege belonging to Trunk Clothiers) and, for the life of me, I couldn’t find an official website, the search made more complicated by the fact that “Made in Occupied Japan” was the official stamp put on many products (kitchenware and figurines, mostly) after WWII.

Anyway, MIOJ, the brand, is based in Okinawa and makes beautiful bags using reclaimed US Army tents left after the war.

Now that the whole hipster/heritage bandwagon has been safely consigned to history, we can take some time to reflect on what is worth keeping with us.

Nigel Cabourn is the first name that comes to mind. Although he’s usually billed as a “heritage designer”, the thing with Cabourn is that he was doing heritage long before it became a hip thing to do.

Besides, let’s not forget that Cabourn does heritage 100 times better than any brand “faking it”. The guy is 66 years old, sports a vintage collection of 4′000 items and knows more about military garments than basically anybody else.

This knowledge is well reflected by the fetishistic levels of attention to detail that go into his finished garments, something you’d expect from a Japanese brand rather than an English gent (not coincidentally, Japan rewards him with a cult following).

Cabourn’s latest endeavours are a collaboration with the Karrimor brand and its Lybro collection, which breathed new life into a long-dead British workwear manufacturer.

Although his lookbooks tend to feel like historical reenactments, Cabourn pieces are actually pretty easy to style alongside more contemporary silhouettes and brands. This kind of styling for me represents a way out for heritage brands: while the “total look” would feel a bit cartoonish now, mixing past and future is definitely ok...and a great way to keep wearing a terrific label such as Nigel Cabourn.

Brian Catling’s The Vorrh is a book that wants to impress you and, with me at least, succeeds. Cover blurbs are usually gratuitously hyperbolic but in this case I totally agree with one of them, namely Terry Gilliam’s: “Brian Catling is simply a genius. His writing is so extraordinary it hurts, it makes me realize how little imagination I have.”

The novel has imagination in heaploads and that’s just one of its many qualities. Alan Moore, another “monstre sacré” of contemporary “fantasy” (emphasis on the quotation marks), declared The Vorrh this century’s first landmark work of fantasy... so that’s a lot of high-praise, coming from highly-regarded sources.

Brian Catling, the author, is an all-around creative: poet, sculptor, performance artist, academic, in 2012 he released upon us this masterwork, which is allegedly the first book in a trilogy and his first attempt at fiction.

In a library The Vorrh would be most likely labeled as “fantasy” but, in line with Moore’s own ideas concerning genre fiction, this is (so) much more than trite sword & sorcery fare. Violent, wildly experimental and mystical, the novel is closer to a surrealist work more than anything else.

The Vorrh is a forest (named after another forest in Raymound Roussel’s Impressions of Africa). It’s a mythical place, vast and unknown, which might host, among a long series of strange creatures, the original Garden of Eden. People who enter it slowly lose their memory and, most likely, their lives along with it. The Vorrh, together with a colonial town sitting on its outmost fringes, provide the backdrop for a complex narrative than involves a Cyclops raised by robots, two girls who fall in love with him, a native hunter and several minor historical figures, such as the already mentioned Roussel and pioneer photographer Edward Muybridge.

Yes, it’s as strange as it sounds and the fact that Catling writes with a poet’s hand (the descriptive passages are more about creating a lyrical vibe than any descriptive purpose) further cements the impression.

While I don’t consider myself a “denim-head”, I actually wear denim a lot, for its flexibility (it pairs with almost everything), durability and for the fact that many labels have very interesting stories or concepts behind them, something which makes them all unique, while to the uninitiated all jeans basically look the same.

Two such labels are Flying Horse Denim and Tela Genova. Incidentally, both were featured in a small denim-centric trade event which is held annually in Milan: Denim Boulevard. Neither of them is Japanese, which makes for a change!

Flying Horse is a new-ish London brand based in Soho, where you can find its only flagship store. It’s actually more an indigo brand than a denim-only one (it makes terrific shirts with a very soft hand, just to make an example) and its main characteristic is the fact that it pays a lot of attention to sustainability, using a mix of cotton and hemp for its denim. Using hemp means that you can reduce the percentage of cotton, a notoriously water-intensive crop.

Still, this wouldn’t amount to much were it not for the fact that the product is actually very good, with a slim silhouette and the lack of too many “heritage” details (which are frankly starting to get on my nerves).

Price point is more than reasonable, and that’s good news as well!.

Never has a fashion trend been more timely! As doctors warn against the dangers of skinny jeans, fashion is apparently falling back in love with wide-leg trousers.

It’s a look I’ve never been able to pull off myself but, for the more vertically-advantaged, it has its own merits... not the least that of novelty.

Here is a go-to brand for your next pair of swim trunks: Olmaia is a new Italian label that focuses on just one product typology, obsessing (in a good way) over the details.

It basically ticks all the boxes: you have fine fabrics, elegant prints inspired by countries as far as Indonesia and India, hand-selected buttons made from shells and, a nice touch, a packaging made with rattan twine from Borneo, imbued with a few drops of Ortigia’s essences.

Peter Matthiessen is a hugely respected American writer who, among other feats, co-founded the Paris Review and managed to snatch the National Book Award three times. He was also a renowned environmental activitist, a passion that may well inform the beautiful descriptive passages that “Shadow Country” offers.

The book itself is a huge thing, clocking at almost 1′000 pages which result from the reworking of three previous novels, originally published as stand-alones.

I’ll start with the bad news: “Shadow Country” is far from being a page-tuner (don’t believe the cover blurbs, which, as it usually happens, tend to be slightly partial to the writer). I would go so far as to say that the first two “books” are a drag and could have done with hundreds of pages less.

And yet, and yet,… First of all you have the beautiful writing, which manages to be so without using high-flying verbiage or obnoxious post-lit tricks (well, you have one on the last page actually). For lovers of literature this must count for something!

Then you have the sheer lenght of the novel, which means that you get to spend a lot of time with the main character (more on this later), resulting in some sort of literary affection.

Thirdly, and more fundamentally, you have the last book, which is more plot-driven than the previous parts and, in my humble opinion, greatly benefits from the change.

As for the plot itself, “Shadow Country” is a fictionalized account of the life and deeds of a real-life outlaw called EJ Watson. Set in the Everglandes around the turn of the century, the book gives a very nuanced portrayal of an admittedly complex character. 

Watson is an outlaw who has committed, by his own recknoning, some terrible deeds yet his personality sits in a grey area and the reader cannot help but find almost sympathetic to him at times.

When the novel begins, we already know how it’s gonna end, with Watson being gunned down by a posse of its former neighbours. The first book is about the first-hand accounts of those involved, the second focuses on Watson’s son, Lucius, investigating his father’s death, while the third, by far the most enjoyable, is Watson’s telling of his own story.

This post is about brands, apparel ones and otherwise, which start from a great premise... yet lack either the spunk or the coherence to go all the way.

A good example of this irritating (as in "wasted potential") issue is Japanese brand Sassafras: on paper it should be about "gardening-inspired" apparel... In actual truth, the inspiration is very loose, so much so that you probably wouldn't spot it,  unless it were explained to you beforehand. 

Sassafras could be a terrific brand, making sturdy clothing and accessories for people who are into gardening and want to be comfy, yet obsess over details. Instead, we are left with a brand that makes generic camo pieces, cargo pants with supposedly-utilitarian pockets and T-shirst with bland writing on it. Were it not for the odd endorsement by Inventory, they would be totally ignored. At the end of the day, the most remarkable feature of the brand, and not in a good way, is the lack of a website. Well, in that, at least, they are actually "differentiated". Look, we are talking about niche brands anyway...so why not embrace the idea altogether and make something that is truly "for a chosen few" rather than go for a diluted, middle-of-the-road concept that is neither mainstream-proof nor fully realized?

Another example, or rather a whole crop, is the indie-magazine arena: plenty of new titles market themselves with extremely vertical editorial angles. How about, just to make a few examples (but not names!), a magazine about contemporary mythology? How about a title that mixes fashion and kittens (true story!)? Or maybe you are in the market for a magazine about interns at fashion companies? 

I'm a total sucker for such high-flying, nerdier-than-thou concepts... the problem is that sustaining them with quality content that stays in line, past the inaugural issue, usually proves to be a challenge...so you start compromising with articles that more or less fit...but then, not really. As in the previous case, my advice is pretty straightforward: it's not like you are aiming at mass consumption (heck, you are probably just building a portfolio to sell services on the side), so keep things pure and strong. 

Quo vadis hipster or, more urgently, art thou dead?

The demise of the hipster trend has been widely reported by many publications, both niche and mainstream, but I have a feeling that news of its death have been greatly exaggerated or, at the very least, need a bit of contexting.

First of all, despite many efforts the definition of what a hipster is, exactly, still proves elusive. Is it about looks? Or is it about a more deeply-ingrained lifestyle? And while we are on that, what is this fabled lifestyle even about? Getting your hands dirty with neo-artisanal job occupations? Looking at the past for inspiration (whatever that means)?

On a different note, trends are not simply either “alive” or “dead”. On the contrary, they usually go through different stages of adoption. The early adopters are, as the name implies, the first people to jump on board…and usually the first to abandon ship as well. Then you have more “mainstream” demographics, who are late to the party…but also late in leaving it.

…and everything tends to be cyclical as well, which complicates things further. I’m sure you have seen one of those graphs where an outmoded clothing item becomes cool again (if worn with irony) and then slowly loses its cachet, turning into the butt of a joke. For some, that’s the current status of the “hipster” look: something which is only worth laughing about.

I make no claim to have a final answer, yet here are my two cents on an admittedly tired topic:

From a creative/fashion direction point of view, I indeed think the whole hipster look (you know what I’m talking about: flannel shirting, lumberjack boots, rolled-up denim and the beard+tattoo combo) is indeed a tired proposition, especially if you are trying to stand-out (which is usually the case). What does the future hold? Well, I’m no “futurologist” and, by the way, it’s not like we only had this look for the past few years, but I think we’ll see more sport couture, more stuff which is future-projected rather than past-inspired. Out of the woods and back into full-urban mode. 

The Nike x Sacai collab’ is a good proxy and so are the less out-there pieces by Off White, Hood by Air, etc. (let’s not discuss Kanye). While it never was a trend, there is an element of “Normcore” here, as we are moving to looks which are more about ease of movement and practicality rather than re-enacting a “lifestyle”.

From a more deep perspective, I think that while we will always be prey to manufactured desires and marketing, there is a growing and widespread ability to see through the bullshit and be more attentive to substance. So maybe it will be less about brands that flaunt their heritage and more about products that actually deliver on quality. It’s like with the Mast Brothers: when you go past the ironic beards and the nice packaging… it’s not really that good, especially considering the price point. So maybe the future will be more about the product and less about its marketing. 

Let's start with some big words: "Americanah" has to be one of the best reads I had in recent times. Period.

The author is Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a Nigerian writer who, much like the novel's main character, divides her time between Nigeria and the US.

The book is about many different topics, although they all somehow intersect with "race". Two Nigerian sweethearts, Ifemelu and Obinze, move abroad (to the US and UK, respectively)...and then come back, although in different times and following different paths. What happens while they are abroad constitutes the bulk of the narrative: loneliness, sense of dislocation, difficulties with immigration laws and clash of cultures (sometimes to comic effect).

The plot is engaging, the social commentary brilliant, even profound at times, but what makes Adichie shine is how she realistically, and insightfully, recreates the experience of having to find your ground in a completely different country (I suspect many observations stem from personal experience). This novel is not about making big statements about race, it's about the nitty gritty of actually having to cope with it, on a daily basis.

As of late my interests have been veering towards the ephemeral, with less focus on physical goods and more attention to stuff such as perfumes and fragrances (I'm afraid this will still mark me as a victim of consumerism).

If you scroll down this page (or delve a few pages back into the archives) you'll bump into several reviews of perfume brands..so I'm not breaking entirely new ground here, but it's true that I've been experiencing a new surge of interest towards the category, rekindled by (boutique) brands such as Nasomatto.

Now, Nasomatto is one of those labels that suffer from excessive hype, as I'll be the first to concede, and, as such, they seem to attract a fair share of critics. Let's forget about all of this for a minute and focus on the essential, that is, the fact that Nasomatto (literally, "crazy nose") is based upon a very intriguing concept and that its products, which I extensively sampled, are actually very good, price-value ratio be damned!

Nasomatto is the brainchild of Alessandro Gualtieri, an Italian nose that moved to Amsterdam and set up his brand there. Before you read any further, go watch this documentary, which tells the story behind one of his perfumes.

Eral 55 is quite easily one of the best menswear shops in Milan. Every big city, Milan included, has its fair share of boutiques offering a selection of what I call "the usual suspects": brands of the moment that pretty much everybody is stocking, such as Common Projects, Engineered Garments, Barena, etc.

What separates Eral 55 from this mass of allegedly cool shops is that it continuously and painstakingly researches for something less obvious, be it lesser known brands (that might be jettisoned after a couple of seasons, when they they lose the "seen here first" appeal) or specialty-made items from more established options.

Ermanno Lazzarin, the shop owner, has a passion for vintage, something that informs both the look&feel of the place and its offering, which includes reconditioned vintage shoes (from iconic English brands such as Church's). The other signature element of the Eral 55 philosophy seems to be "layering", as it will be obvious to anyone browsing its shop windows, where animal-headed dummies don impossibly cool outfits that shouldn't work together... yet somehow do.

Last but not least, I had more than one bad experience with "alterations", even at top boutiques. Eral 55 and its super-nice Japanese shop assistant will carefully take your measures and make sure that any hemming you might need will be up to the standards of the garments on sale.

Did I say "one of the best in Milan"? Scratch that, it's among the world's finest.

"Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage" is the latest novel by Haruki Murakami, Japan's most prominent literary sensation and a perennial Nobel candidate.

Fame and literary merits aside, Murakami happens to be one of my favourite writers, with his now third-to-last novel, "Kafka on the shore", being a personal favourite. It should then come as no surprise that I very much enjoyed his latest effort, although it's not as good as the aforementioned "Kafka..." or the more recent 1Q84.

"Colorless..." is quite different from most Murakami novels, as the element of "magical realism" which is usually so central is almost absent from the plot. What we get instead is a Japanese "Bildungsroman".

The main character, Tsukuru, is part of a very tight clique of high-school friends. All of them, with the exception of Tsukuru himself, have names that include a colour. While Tsukuru is very much an integral part of the group, he thinks himself bland in comparison to his other friends.

One day, without a word of explanation, he's expelled from the group and this sudden betrayal will stay with him for many years, well into adulthood.

The novel spins into motion when Tsuruku decides, with some "encouragement", to contact his long-lost friends and finally discover why he was completely removed from their circle.

While I won't reveal anything else about the plot and its ending, fans of the writer will surely recognize many of the author's signature flourishes: the music, the Japanese orderileness, etc.

My previous post featured the word "restraint", something which is ostensibly absent from Ikiré Jones' latest collection of squares, titled "Untold Renaissance".

I find the underlying concept extremely interesting, as it gives both a conceptual edge and an artisanal touch to an otherwise very kitsch premise. This is about "sampling": just like in hip-hop culture you would mash up different sounds, here you see people of color inserted in Medieval and Renaissance-era art.

Looking back at the SS15 shows, very few things stand out, with most brands restraining themselves to familiar ground.

Restraint marked Dries Van Noten's collection too, at least in relative terms, but this didn't prevent the Belgian designer from delivering an outstanding selection of garments, as he so often does.

The whole thing was an homage to movement and, more specifically, to a male ideal embodied by Rudolf Nureyev.

Conceptual references aside, this was a total stunner: a revered master of prints (how about shirts featuring a nude dancer-motif drawn by Richard Haines?), the designer played with volumes and proportions, featuring pants with waistbands, scooped necklines and those terrific one-sided waistcoats.

I'd gladly buy everything!

S. is a novel by J.J. Abrams, the award-winning filmmaker best known for the Lost tv series.

More remarkably, S. is a brilliant attempt to breath new life into print fiction, a form of entertainment that, as it is well known, has been steadily losing ground to alternative options such as video games, tv series and movies.

It does so by leveraging on a mix of powerful ingredients: the first one is J.J. Abrams himself, a cult name commanding a huge following (read: target). Mind you, here J.J. Abrams' role is more or less the one he occupied within the Lost franchise: he comes up with the idea and acts as overall showrunner… while the actual writing duties are taken over by one Doug Dorst (this is no Pulitzer-level text but the prose flows nicely and it's not entirely devoid of subtlety and charm).

The second ingredient, which once again goes back to Mr. Abrams, is the concept itself: inside the slipcase readers will find Ship of Theseus, a book by a fictional author called V.M. Straka. The book is heavily annotated by two, also fictional, scholars that engage in a sort of pre-iMessage back-and-forth among themselves. This second layer is in a fact another narrative that sheds some light over the mystery of who exactly Straka might be. Last but not least we have the translator, whose footnotes add to the overall reading experience.

Basically S. is a cross between Nabokov's Pale Fire, A.S. Byatt's Possession and Mark Z. Danielewski's House of Leaves (although it's not that eerie…nor as good).

Last ingredient, visible at first glance, is the money that obviously went into the project: S. came with its own pre-release trailer (although this is becoming more and more common for big-time publishing events) but, above all, it's an incredibly beautiful print artifact: pages are faux-aged, annotations look real and the book is filled with a treasure trove of newspaper cuttings, postcards, essay notes and other assorted ephemera (including a map printed on a napkin). Anyone familiar with printing will know that this book, in terms of pure production, must have cost quite a fortune compared to your average hardback.

Expensive…yet this is one of the reasons that might just push fans to buy it.