Urban warriors on the prowl for streetwear with cool cachet Rutha La Ferla | The International Herald Tribune | December 25, 2006
http://www.iht.com/articles/2006/12/25/style/fstreet.php?page=2 Scouring streetwear shops in central Manhattan on Saturday, Dimitri Viglis zeroed in on a hoodie he hoped would put some cool in his wardrobe. Viglis, a 23-year-old construction worker from Brooklyn, chose a black and purple style with a kinetic computer-graphic pattern by the label Orchard Street, a garment splashy enough, yet insulating enough, for a night on the town. "Wear this," he said contentedly, "and I won't have to put on a heavy jacket while I wait in line at the clubs." He paid about $150 for his hoodie but would have parted with twice or even three times the price, he said. "Look at the quality," he added, turning the cuff inside out to show its meticulous construction and stitching. Better yet, he said, he felt reasonably assured that he would not be seeing it on every Tom, Jamal and Harry. Viglis and his cohort, style-conscious young men with an aversion to mall culture and a professed maverick streak, are hot on the scent of the new, the colorful, the inventive and the rare. Their quarry: street-inflected clothing, footwear, caps and jewelry from new little-known labels like Two Black Guys, Phenomenon, 10.Deep and Crooks & Castles. It's the latest in surrogate bling, less costly than a mink-lined toggle coat or a Jacob the Jeweler diamond pendant, but just as luxurious to their way of thinking. Their enthusiasm has engendered a growing niche market, one that visibly thrives on distinctive styling and hard-to-replicate details and boasts a fruit fly's abbreviated lifespan. Devotees of this new luxury streetwear, much of it a quirky and none- too-subtle sendup of gangsta hoodies and the like, can be seen on any weekend queuing up outside Reed Space, Supreme and Union in New York and Los Angeles, C'monwealth in the Georgetown neighborhood of Washington, and Leaders 1354 in Chicago. These trendsetting stores are streetwear's answer to fashion outposts like Barneys. The shoppers also swarm the Web, hunting and gathering at sites like hypebeast and highsnobiety. "This movement has kind of snowballed," said Wanda Colon, vice president for merchandising for Barneys Co-Op stores, which stock more trend-driven, less expensive items than the parent fashion store. Upscale sneakers, hoodies and track pants have trickled up into the Co-Op shops, including popular labels like Billionaire Boys Club and Kidrobot. "People will come into the store specifically looking for these labels, things that they have seen on the Web or heard their friends talk about," Colon said. "These pieces tend to move without marketing or advertising. We don't even put them in our windows. We can't keep them in the stores that long." Josh Fishel, a partner in 10.Deep, a label known for its graphic T- shirts and hoodies that riffed on the pattern of a Hermès scarf, has also noted a spike in interest. "The word is out," he said. Talk of coveted new merchandise races like a current through alternative magazines like Mass Appeal and on fashion blogs, he added. "A fast turn used to be measured in months," Fishel said. "Now it's laser-light quick. The instant something goes up on a site, these goods are yesterday's news." This season, shoppers may be gravitating to goods like a $700 green and cream-colored varsity jacket by Phenomenon at Union and a $400 nylon yacht windbreaker from Billionaire Boys Club, the brand owned by the musician Pharrell Williams and Nigo of the Japanese cult label A Bathing Ape. Much of the inspiration comes from old school hip-hop, Spike Lee movies like "Do the Right Thing" and the do-it-yourself urban aesthetic of the early '80s, as documented in "Back in the Days," a book of photographs by Jamel Shabazz. The newest companies are reinterpreting the hoodie, introducing variations with brashly vibrant and often menacing imagery: all-over prints with bullet-hole graphics, chain-link fences and basketball netting, guns and roses, cobwebs and flamboyantly irreverent reinterpretations of Vuitton, Chanel or Gucci logos, each a graphically subversive comment on those corporate fashion behemoths. "Everybody is mass market OD'ed" said John Favreau, a fashion consultant for companies like Epic Firm, a four-month-old street label built on mink-lined epaulet hoodies and denim-and-cashmere track pants. The luxury street phenomenon is fueled by "a cultural need for self-expression and self-invention," Favreau said, one that places a premium on novelty and rarity. Prices as high as $700 for a varsity jacket at Union and $650 for an angora hoodie at BBlessing may well be part of the draw. But for shoppers who converge on these stores from the boroughs or from cities as far-flung as Milan and Singapore, luxury is not about price. "It's about owning something you had to hunt down," said Mikhayel Tesfaye, the head designer and a partner in Greedy Genius, a footwear and apparel label that has recently been offered at Urban Outfitters. "In this market it's all about exclusivity," said Wilkins Frias, the manager of Union. "The element of uniqueness is really important. We all know what Ralph Lauren does, what Tommy Hilfiger does. What we want is an artist's piece. It has to have an image, but at the same time not look ostentatious." That demand has been a wake-up call for a handful of activewear giants. "It's a David and Goliath situation," Fishel said. "Mainstream companies like Rocawear and Phat Farm are starting to see that the small guys have an edge." Nike, for one, is looking over its shoulder. This year it introduced Nike White Label Elite, a line of trainers that mix materials like black patent leather and simulated pony skin, and windbreakers and sweatshirts that are upscale variations on their sports designs. Most up-from-the asphalt labels originate in urban centers like New York and Los Angeles or London, Tokyo and Copenhagen. "The design impulse is global," said Steven Taranto, the owner of First Among Equals. But wherever they are made, the inspiration for these looks dates back to the late 1980s and early '90s, "when club kids wanted to look special," he said. "They made their own clothes and went out at night to show people what they were wearing. "All that doesn't exist anymore," Taranto said. But as he pulled from the rack a sumptuous wool hoodie from Triko, a Peruvian label, dressed up with wood toggles and embossed leather epaulets, he added, "It well may be coming back."
