philip sherburne

Some notebooks on cities and clothes

I am saddened by many things in Rolling Stone, but I am particularly saddened by the fact that they are championing white sneakers. White sneakers are currently one of the only things making me truly, giddily, unreasonably happy (note: cleaning white sneakers is not), and I fear their increased exposure can only kill off this particular trend/fad (what do you call something that’s not quite one or the other? A trad? A fend? Can we fend off the trad with subverso trends and anti-fads?). Once the white sneaks go, I’m afraid I’ll have no options but, say, camouflage Tevas, and nobody wants to see that.

Speaking of all things sartorial (well, some things sartorial), how goddamn excited am I that both Veronique Branquinho and Hussein Chalayan have launched menswear lines? (Answer: very.) Now, the only trick is figuring out how to afford these Continental coutouriers on $.10 a word. Yo Vero, Chally, you know that jetsetting hacks and hobbyist DJs have gotta look good whilst grubbing down microwaved mini-pizzas during our five-hour layovers at JFK. Hook a scribe up! I’ll plug you, promise. Here’s a sample: “Superpitcher’s hyperengineered gloom-pop is as sleek as the lines on Branquinho’s re-constructed racing jackets for SS/04; unlike the Belgian designer, though, who carefully snipped all logo patches from her uniform-style outerwear, leaving a teasing outline of corporate branding in the seamed outlines around the negative spaces of the excised badges, Superpitcher wears his affiliations – windswept New Romantics and glossily painted glam godz – proudly on his sleeve.”

(Note: this offer also open to representatives of Martin Margiela, Dries van Noten, Dirk Schönberger, and Exquisite Vestments, makers of some of the finest ecumenical attire on the Good Book circuit. To participate in our strategic partner plan, just send an email to sharpdressedman@sartorialsellout.com!)