BTS: Niko #2
Lil bro let me go crazy again. This outfit truly had us travel to two different malls, and about four different stores in the span of a couple hours. Gioacchini’s Casablanca look was an example of ends justifying the means.
Mom, Niko and I marched into Neiman Marcus with a purpose. While the footballer’s closet remained untouched, we decided to start fresh with a whole new outfit. Neiman’s was relatively barren. I appreciate the street aesthetic intertwined with high-end fashion, however overdoing it is a sin. It was clear that Amiri’s merchandisers had leased the majority of the men’s department as their Ready-To-Wear plagued the floor. Tight, distressed, acid-wash jeans lurked and oversized hoodies with graphic-stamped “AMIRI” on the back leached to racks at the front of the male section. I’m not a hater. I swear. I purchased a pair of $2,500 jeans straight off the Amiri x Chemist mannequin back in March. Select piece go hard, but the majority of their rtw is frightening.
I picked a few pieces off the racks but was in love with a pair of white, Casablanca trousers. They were pipped on the sides with a bright, semi-tribal print boasting vibrant red, green, yellow and shades of blue. Because of the complexed embroidery on the lateral panels, I knew the shirt would have to be simple and a similar, almost perfect color-match to the colors in the print. I tend to stray away from T-shirts (I find them childish, unless rocked very particularly) so I had a polo as a mental reference. Besides the Casablancas, nothing else was of interest. My bro bought a grey, polo shirt from Theory and I made my way to Saks to continue the journey.
We passed by Louis Vuitton where I remembered the LV Trainers that I would sell a kidney to posses. Their colorways included a green and white, yellow and white and red and white. None of them made the cut because they were too busy adjacent to the trousers. We continued to Saks.
At Saks they had nothing. Zilch. The men’s section was even more limited than Neiman’s and for the opposite reason. While Neiman Marcus was doused in tacky motifs and blatant branding, Saks was a conservative graveyard. If Ralph Lauren muted their colors and Gap tags were replaced by Dolce & Gabbana, the men’s department in Saks at Frontenac would stock it.
The gang and I unanimously agreed we needed a basic top so we went to the safest place to find a T-shirt: Target. While a delicate plummet in quality, it did provide us with the opportunity to try on a variety of solid-colored shirts. None of them surficed. While the Bottega-green was the most satisfying of the trials, the error remained in the certain je ne sais quoi that still lacked with a mere T-shirt. I remembered the idea of a polo shirt and recollected Macy’s Ralph Lauren Polo department. It was almost a guaranteed W due to their color-blocking nature, vivid pigments and the simple fact that mom was getting tired, my brother hungry and I, caught between both of their attitudes.
Once in Macy’s everything came together. We found a solid, green-green polo shirt made of a light athletic material. My mom was elated and Niko was relieved to be able to return home, but I wasn’t quenched. Something still was missing for it to be considered an outfit. Yes, it worked, but why did it just work? Why didn’t it wow? I quickly scanned my surroundings and saw another polo with wide, horizontal, stripes in the same green, white and blue as in the pants. No, I didn’t replace the green, athletic polo from before, I stacked them, popped their collars and left the tops untucked. My mom smirked and my bro was flabbergasted. For me it was a casual win, an I-do-this-all-the-time moment, but my family members were speechlessly impressed enough to forget their primal discomforts. Niko was excited for the first time that day and we could go home.
Now you would think we were done but we needed shoes. At this point we had spent the entirety of the day shopping and everything was closed so I promised to help them the next day to finalize our hunt In order to reach the maximum potential of the outfit the shoes needed to be subtle in color and present in silhouette. The trousers had a slight slouch so the shoes had to be a little bulky. They needed to side on colorless because any more color would have been clownish.
We returned to Neiman’s where they had the a more fertile men’s shoe selection and on the first guess I was able to pull a pair of Kenzo’s. I love the sneaker because they are white monochrome, chunky and look like a balanced cross between trainers and dress shoes, but most of all they have an exposed toe feature. Steel peeks out from under the white leather (similar to the Raf Simons x Dr Martens oxfords) enhancing any silver being worn, in this case Niko’s Rolex. A little red tag with “Kenzo” embossed in bright enamel sit at the base of the laces. Inconspicuous to the naked eye but to those who notice detail, a silent touché. Everything was harmonious and interconnected. This fit landed me John Bell.
