Luxury: The Men's Issue

Sharing the Blame

Few fashion items have battled the vagaries of time and trend as successfully as the humble bomber jacket. 

Generally defined by its cropped length, looser arms, ribbed waistband and matching cuffs, paired with pockets and a zipper down the front, the bomber jacket made its debut during the First World War. Pilots flying in planes that didn’t have an enclosed cockpit required durable outerwear to keep them warm. And so the garment, also known as the flight jacket, came into being, courtesy of the United States Army and Aviation Clothing Board.

While its roots were firmly in the military, it trickled into the wardrobes of normal citizens. Constructed from mid-weight, water-resistant nylon, the MA-1 flight jacket emerged in the 1950s, as the demands of the jet age led to new requirements in terms of pilot clothing; and this was the first variant of the bomber jacket to fully cross over into everyday wear.

Since then, it has been donned by the police, appropriated by punk, grunge and alternative rock fans, made swoon-worthy by James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause and Tom Cruise in Top Gun, and is apparently Bella Hadid’s jacket of choice. “On a casual day, I’d usually pull out my vintage Levi’s, a pair of loafers or beat-up Converse, a bomber jacket and a button-down shirt,” she has said.

While it still retains its masculine, military vibe, the style is now gender-neutral. Its versatility has no doubt contributed to its longevity: it is as easy to pair with denim as it is with chinos, dresses or shorts. And its minimalist silhouette and layering potential have further endeared it to generations of fashion fans.

For his winter 2020-2021 menswear collection for Dior, Kim Jones revisited this fashion staple, presenting a double-zipped bomber in blocks of deep grey and iridescent blue. House codes appeared in pockets that were shaped to reference the curves of Dior’s famed Saddle Bag. The jacket, like the rest of the collection, was an homage to Judy Blame, the British art director, stylist, jeweller, designer and visual iconoclast credited with bringing the punk aesthetic into the mainstream in the 1980s.

Armed with the mantra “Make something. Wear it. Cause trouble”, Blame was responsible for some of the era’s most recognisable pop culture moments – from Björk’s Debut album cover and Neneh Cherry’s outfit in the 1989 hit Buffalo Stance to the styling of Massive Attack and Boy George. He influenced a generation of designers, including Martin Margiela, was an early champion of Helmut Lang, and worked with the likes of Marc Jacobs and John Galliano, before he died in 2018 at the age of 58. 

The Dior winter collection pays tribute to Blame in countless ways, and is a nod to London in the 1980s – a period of intense creativity, in terms of music, fashion and image-making, in the British capital. 

In the hands of the London-born Jones, this manifested in berets decorated with chains, coins and charms, safety-pin earrings, gloves and the MA-1 flight jacket, a signature of the Buffalo Boys collective, a maverick group of photographers, designers and artists of which Blame was a part. 

The collection simultaneously pays tribute to Dior’s haute couture heritage, with pleats, draping and plays on volume that reference couture’s tailoring techniques; the use of silks, embroidery, arabesque motifs and paisley patterning; and buttons covered in fabric, such as those on Dior’s signature Bar jacket.

Raphael Young creates stylish, vegan, eco-sustainable footwear that puts the planet first. He speaks to Selina Denman about his mission to change the way fashion is made

Raphael Young is worried. For the past couple of years, the celebrated shoe designer has channelled his creative talent into raising awareness about sustainability, pollution and climate change, developing eco-friendly footwear under his activist streetwear label F_WD. But the pandemic has brought a new threat to the fore. 

“I am very concerned that this pandemic will bring about another kind of pollution, with single-use masks and gloves,” he says. “I witness a lot of incivility, with masks being thrown like paper on the streets. It is really important that countries like China, for example, one of the main mask manufacturers in the world, integrate the issue of sustainability.

“My hope is that they will soon develop masks that are more respectful of the environment, while keeping all their protective qualities. The one, more positive, point of the pandemic is that people have travelled and consumed less, giving some well-needed rest to our planet.” 

While the Seoul-born designer has been interested in the idea of sustainable design for many years, the 2015 Paris Climate Change Conference, COP21, represented a turning point for him. “I am sensible to my environment,” he says. “I feel involved and concerned about how fast our planet is changing and is harmed by our human activities. Sustainability is the future of fashion and of everything in general. The future can only be green, or we won’t have one.”

Young hails from solid shoemaking stock. He is the nephew and heir of Alexandre Narcy, who set up the Yves Saint Laurent shoe studio in the 1960s and is widely regarded as one of the leading bottiers of the 20th century. It was from his uncle that Young learnt the importance of craft and structure, and despite doing a stint in the French Navy and going on to dabble in engineering and physics, he eventually found himself following in Narcy’s footsteps. 

Coming full circle, Young started out apprenticing under Yves Saint Laurent, and worked at other French and Italian couture studios before launching his eponymous label in 2009, which has been donned by the likes of Beyoncé, Lady Gaga and Rihanna. In 2011, he moved to New York to steer the creative direction of Calvin Klein Collection accessories, and then in 2013, moved again, to Milan. 

“Despite my love for New York and my impossible attraction to the city’s magnetic energy, I felt the need to move closer to the heart of shoemaking artistry: Italy,” he says.

Taking inspiration from Plato, Le Corbusier, music, architecture, product design and myriad other sources, Young has since served as creative director for popular brands such as Off-White, Jil Sander, Paco Rabanne and Fendi, and is currently a creative consultant for Tod’s Men and Redemption. But it is his work at the creative helm of F_WD, a collaboration with the Onward Luxury Group, that has the potential to make the most impact. 

All F_WD shoes are vegan, cruelty-free and environmentally friendly. They are made using polyesters, lining and laces crafted from recycled plastic bottles and, for the past couple of seasons, the brand has introduced eco-sustainable soles containing recycled rubber and vegetable-based dyes.

“The eco-fake leather we use is truly innovative,” Young says. “It is bio-based, meaning that it is produced using polyurethane made of renewable sources like corn, replacing petroleum products. Our material is water-based, meaning there is no use of toxic solvents. It is safer for the consumer, but also for the people producing it and making our shoes.” 

Sold in the UAE at Level Shoes in The Dubai Mall and online at Levelshoes.com, F_WD’s products are 100 per cent vegan, are made from 20 to 25 per cent recycled and recyclable materials, and are 2 to 3 per cent biodegradable. The aim is to create shoes that are 50 per cent biodegradable in the near future and then, ultimately, completely biodegradable.

“Today, we are able to create totally biodegradable uppers, but we are not able yet to produce a fully biodegradable sole,” Young explains. “We can do biodegradable plastics, as Australian scientists have created plastics with the use of bacteria. The challenge is to be able to keep the technical qualities of a sole, with regards to flexibility and shock absorption. 

“But I think we are not too far from achieving this. It all depends on how willing sole-makers are to invest in research and innovation.”

This, Young says, is the key challenge when it comes to creating sustainable shoes: a lack of investment by some suppliers, including sole producers, in the development of new and eco-friendly solutions. This creates a lack of choice for designers when it comes to materials, textures and colours, and ultimately damages the sustainable design cause. 

“Our choices are a lot more restrained in that way, but F_WD is showing that we can overcome this lack of choice and still make exciting and vibrant collections. I also strive to create timeless products that will endure seasons, to elongate the product’s life cycle. That is also part of being sustainable.”

Another obstacle is perceptions within the luxury industry of what constitutes a “noble material”. The term has traditionally referred to expensive and rare materials such as fur, leather and exotic skins, and until this mindset shifts, sustainability will struggle to enter the mainstream. “Most big names in the fashion industry sell very exclusive products, which means using exclusive and expensive materials,” Young points out.

“Luxury brands sell tradition; they use noble materials. Selling sustainable products means selling products that are not made with ‘noble’ materials, even if I consider that green materials are way more noble than any real leather or fur.” 

While the materials used for the footwear do not directly shape the designs, they do play into a wider concept, which Young refers to as “organic” design – shapes that “are bio and organic, reminiscent of shapes that blend into nature”.

Elevating consumer consciousness when it comes to sustainability is fundamental, which is why the messaging on Young’s designs is purposefully and unapologetically front and centre. A pair of black knee-high rain boots crafted from recycled rubber has the phrase “do you recycle?” in bold capital letters up the side, while the words “hybrid”, “eco-logic solution”, “waste”, pollution-proof” and “support our cause” adorn trainers in the both the men’s and women’s collections.

A play on the words “warning” and “warming” appears on the backs of some designs, in brightly coloured block capitals, while an extended definition of the word “recycling” appears on a pair of thick-soled court shoes, including the warning that “plastic pollution is one of the greatest threats to ocean-health worldwide”. 

If Young’s creations are anything to go by, the time for subtle messaging around the theme of sustainability is over. F_WD makes its intentions and values loud and clear from the outset. “The messages on my designs function to awaken consciousness on the need for sustainability. The second function is that when applying literal messages on a product, it helps to make the product a conversation opener with the public,” explains Young.

“We are a new brand and we have purposely used our own products to support a message of sustainability and raise consciousness on plastic pollution and climate change issues.”

The designer may be committed to the sustainability cause, but he is also realistic about all the work that still needs to be done. Pricing can be an issue, as recycled materials still cost more than their non-recycled counterparts, meaning that the cost of creating sustainable footwear and fashion is generally higher than usual. 

The sourcing of certain materials can also be difficult, as they require higher minimum orders. “There should be a lot more investment in research and development for green solutions,” Young says. 

But, ultimately, he hopes F_WD will be a trailblazer. “I want to open the way to a new way to create fashion. F_WD should not be an exception on the market. The entire fashion industry needs to embrace this consciousness and change their ways.

“My ultimate mission is to open the way to design that is virtuous.”

The first Hip Hop sale by Sotheby’s paid tribute to the genre’s global appeal, as well as the power of music to invoke nostalgia

The Notorious BIG stands in the foreground, a pair of sunglasses shielding his eyes, the twin towers of New York’s World Trade Centre looming behind him. Taken in 1996, a year before the hip-hop legend was murdered, the photograph speaks of a moment in history that can never be repeated.

It is the work of Chi Modu, a photographer for The Source magazine who developed close relationships with some of the biggest names in hip-hop and captured some of the most memorable images of the era – from Tupac, bare-chested and eyes closed, with a stream of cigarette smoke trailing from his mouth, to Eazy-E, leaning against the bonnet of his Chevrolet Impala, and a young Snoop Dogg, peering out soulfully from beneath his hoodie. 

The pictures formed part of the first Sotheby’s auction dedicated to hip-hop last month. In 120 lots ranging from a 125th Street subway station platform sign covered in graffiti, to flyers dating back to the late 1970s and clothing worn by some of the genre’s most influential artists, the sale traced the story of hip-hop from its early beginnings.

“The story is that hip-hop is a cultural movement; it’s not just a musical genre,” says Cassandra Hatton, the vice president and senior specialist at Sotheby’s who was responsible for putting the sale together. “It’s a cultural movement that includes music and art and fashion and design. I think a lot of people think of hip-hop as being just music. But it was really a movement that was grassroots, that was built by people in New York, in the community of the Bronx to begin with and then Queens, Brooklyn and Manhattan, and it spread out all over the world. It was built by everyday people who had extraordinary talent and turned it into this massive global cultural force. So that was something that we wanted to show.”

Hatton grew up listening to hip-hop and had been planning the sale for seven years. About two years ago, she was introduced to Monica Lynch, a former president of Tommy Boy Records, which managed the careers of many early hip-hop stars. Together, using word of mouth, they began gathering an unprecedented collection of objects. 

“Monica Lynch was instrumental in this, in that she was able to connect me to different people within the hip-hop community, be it musical artists, visual artists, or people who have been working in the industry for decades. It was important to me that all the items spoke with each other – that each had a connection to something else. If you source your material using word of mouth, then naturally the story is formed, because those people know each other and already have a relationship, so those objects will probably have a relationship, too.”

While hip-hop culture certainly doesn’t need institutions such as Sotheby’s to validate it, this sale does mark an interesting turning point. “I think hip-hop has always been big and is important independent of whether places like Sotheby’s have auctions focusing on it, or whether museums like the Met or Moma decide to start collecting art by black artists. It’s already there, in of itself, without any of that happening,” says Hatton.

“But I think that a lot of museums and cultural institutions like Sotheby’s are able to see the value, and are understanding that social currents are changing and that the world is changing. If we want to move forward, we have to be willing to acknowledge that culture isn’t just coming from one place and there isn’t just one tiny group of people that gets to decide what’s valuable.”

The sale also feels particularly poignant in light of movements such as Black Lives Matter, which have been brought to the fore this year. And while Hatton points out that there was nothing strategic in the timing of the sale, she also doesn’t place too much stock in coincidences.

“I am of the generation that grew up listening to hip-hop; hip-hop has influenced my outlook on the world. A lot of the other people who are involved in movements like Black Lives Matter are also of my generation, and also grew up listening to hip-hop. So I think this sale is just part of a larger movement of people who grew up influenced by this, and are able to see the value of black lives and the culture they have spread around the world. I didn’t engineer them to happen at the same time, but global cultural currents coincided,” she explains.

Either way, the auction was a resounding success, generating $2 million, with 91 per cent of all lots sold. Leading the way was the crown worn and signed by The Notorious BIG in the famed King of New York photograph, taken during the artist’s last recorded photo shoot. He was killed in Los Angeles three days later. The crown, which had been in the possession of photographer Barron Claiborne since the day of the shoot, fetched $600,000. 

Another star lot was a collection of love letters written by a teenage Tupac to Kathy Loy, a high-school sweetheart and fellow student at the Baltimore School for the Arts. Covering a total of 24 pages, the letters are a testament to Tupac’s naturally poetic writing style, featuring frequent lyrical turns and separate love poems within the body of the letters. 

The sale also featured a number of jackets – including a one-of-a-kind prototype Def Jam jacket, Salt-N-Pepa’s personal “Push It” jackets and an original leather Wu-Tang Clan “Parental Advisory” jacket from 1993 – which performed well. “The jackets were pretty exciting,” says Hatton. “We had a lot in the sale and I was little nervous about how many there were, but I think for those, the appeal was they were all historic and vintage, but you can also wear them. That crossover of utilitarianism and art.”

The success of the sale, which Hatton says will be the first of many, is a testament, if needed, to hip-hop’s global appeal, as well as shifting perceptions of what constitutes art. But it is, perhaps most importantly, a mark of the power of music to induce nostalgia. This is something Hatton knows from personal experience. 

“Growing up, when I was feeling down and wanted to wallow in it, I would listen to Nirvana. But when things were good and we were celebrating, it was hip-hop. That speaks to the fact that hip-hop is an uplifting music. It makes people feel good and it motivates people.”

Fashion for all

Lebanese stylist turned fashion designer Amine Jreissati speaks to Sarah Maisey about perseverance

“The cast just came off this morning,” says Amine Jreissati, holding his arm up to the camera as we begin our Zoom call.

A creative director, stylist and founder of fashion label Boyfriend, Jreissati is at the heart of Beirut’s vibrant creative scene, and is known for his sharp eye, unfailing style and bulging contacts list. He set up his business in the fashionable district of Mar Mikhael, the buzzing district close to Beirut’s port. And then on August 4, the explosion laid waste to his showroom and his home.

“As you can imagine, it’s very, very difficult at the moment, but you develop a strength. I don’t know where it comes from. It’s survival mode. I’ve asked myself so many times if I want to leave. Everything is risky in this country, but the longer I stay, the more I ask myself, where am I going to go? How can I leave this city I always dreamed of rebuilding? My heart will always be here.”

His brand Boyfriend is the culmination of years of industry experience, earned as a highly respected fashion director and stylist, working with some of the region’s biggest magazines and celebrities. Jreissati was initially asked by a concept store in Beirut to design a capsule collection. “I never wanted to be a designer, but I got approached and it got me thinking ... I didn’t want to create just a collection. I would love to create a brand and to connect with something that was maybe hidden inside me.”

With a personal style that is laid-back but always on point (think crisp shirts with rolled-up sleeves and hip-hugger trousers cropped to the ankle), when it came to seeking inspiration for his designs, Jreissati didn’t have to look too far.

“I based it on myself and what I would wear. When I buy clothes, how do I buy them? As a stylist, what do I add to make a piece more comfortable? I really took the time to structure a certain style. I am the guy who buys from women’s stores as well as men’s. It’s simple and nothing too sophisticated.”

Launched in 2017, Boyfriend is a label that takes everyday men’s items and subtly reworks them to be worn by either gender. “I wanted my clothes to be worn by everyone. Everyone has classics their closet – a trench, a white shirt, a kimono. I simplified the cut and worked around comfort, and now anyone can wear it,” he explains.

The results are roomy staples conceived with versatility in mind. In soft fabrics and a neutral palette, an oversized granddad shirt works over shorts on a man, or can be belted into a dress for a woman, while a boxy boiler suit is utilitarian for a man, but when paired with heels, becomes sharply feminine. 

“I grew with the brand. I took the time to develop and add, and experiment with new cuts, and this is how it grew,” he says.

With its deliberate androgyny, Boyfriend is often referred to as a unisex label, but Jreissati is keen to correct this. “It’s very important that it’s a masculine piece that I work from. It’s very important for me that people know that this is sexy, yes, but it’s a men’s brand. With new designs, I might choose a fabric that might be more feminine, but the first piece is always masculine,” he explains.

As the label grew, he laid down roots in Mar Mikhael. “I wanted to create a strong identity so I invested everything I had in the showroom and the collection to launch it properly. But the day of opening was the first day of the Lebanese revolution, so I had to close. I opened officially a month and a half later for Christmas and that went really well, but then it went down due to hyperinflation. And then Covid-19 hit. And then the blast.” His voice trails off. 

When the explosion happened on August 4, Jreissati was at home. “I didn’t even know what had happened until hours later. I was sitting on my sofa with my dog and then, suddenly, we flew across the room. It was only later that evening, after the hospital, that I saw the footage of the explosion. When I saw it, I threw the phone away from me. I still cannot believe that I was in the centre of that and survived.”

Although seriously injured, the next day Jreissati joined people on the streets, helping to clear the debris from the blast. “It was great therapy, just taking care of others instead of thinking about myself,” he says. “I couldn’t just sit there thinking: ‘Look at my house, look at my showroom.’”

Like countless others in the city, Jreissati’s life has been upended by the events of this year, and yet, he remains sanguine. “I learned not to put pressure on myself during [the Covid-19] confinement. That month or two alone at home did me so much good. It taught me a lot. And now I have the chance to prove to myself that I am a new person. To put into practice what I learned,” he says.

“The next Boyfriend collection is ready in my head and it will have a big Beirut influence, obviously. But I don’t know when it’s going to be made. With hyperinflation, fabric and production cost a fortune, and that’s if the factories still exist. My will is to continue, I just don’t know how long it is going to take, that’s all.”

As he holds up his arm, demonstrating the limited movement in his injured wrist, Jreissati is clearly still processing the tragedy that ripped his city apart. “Every time I speak to someone here, they tell me the same, that it is a miracle they survived. There were 187 people dead, but also 300,000 miracles.”