An ode to clothes

I love clothes.

Sometimes I can’t believe that I’ve become a stylist for a living. I suppose my reflection comes from the fact that as I write this, I’m sitting on a plane 30 minutes away from landing in Beijing, the capital of the country where I first decided to embark on this clothes-laden profession. I was completing a proof-reading internship for a body of UK Trade & Investment at the time in Shanghai. A friend took me to a fashion PR event where a photographer would approach me and essentially change the planned trajectory of my whole life.

He introduced me to a stylist, who hired me as an assistant for a private sales fashion show three days later. We then went for a post-show dinner with a writer from Vogue, the designer and the stylist. Within a week (and it was actually my final week in Shanghai) I was given a new plan to follow, and the start of a shift from a prospective career in finance to fashion began to take shape as soon as I landed back home in the UK.

I guess I’ve always liked clothes. During my first accounting internship at Ernst & Young I was the guy who would wear the optional tie. I had to wear a suit throughout all of school, so I guess I had a taste for tailoring from the get-go. I grew up in the indie era, defined by shops like Topman, while my older brother introduced streetwear to me like Evisu and A-Bathing Ape, or at least fake versions of them.

If I think really far back though, I remember having a favourite jumper when I was twelve that my mum had bought me and I wore that for years until the sleeves were halfway up my forearm. She always had good taste. I vaguely remember a black and white zip up long sleeve polo from Calvin Klein I had as a young boy. She gelled my bowl haircut nicely. There was a photo of me at eight or so, wearing a red multi-coloured zip fleece, something that probably subconsciously influenced the vintage Comme des Garçons one I bought five years ago. I think clothes are such an important part of our personal life and representation. I adore styling for this exact reason.

Styling as a profession is essentially telling the story of something through clothing. It’s not just piecing things together, it’s the way it’s worn. For menswear, it can be pretty limited. Sleeves up, sleeves down. Shirt buttoned up, shirt buttoned down. Tucked in? There’s not really much else after that. Afterwards, you have to throw in some posing and purpose to give it some substance. The complexity comes from, why is this guy a guy who rolls his sleeves up? Why does he wear his tie in such a neat knot, or instead, why is he wearing it so loose? In fact, why have we even decided that this is the guy wearing the shirt and tie, when in his day to day he’s never worn one in his life except for weddings and funerals? Is it because he’s always wanted to, or because we’ve forced it on him? I suppose these are all the styling questions I ask myself whenever I start to approach an image. I like to add realism to all my work and that requires truth. I think it reads instantaneously when someone looks “dressed up”, and my approach is ideally making someone look barely styled at all.

It should look like an embodiment of their own personal wardrobe and a reflection of their personality. I’m not saying there always has to be a reason, but ultimately there always is one. I “throw” something on because I want to be comfortable that day. I make an effort because I want to be noticed. I make no effort because I simply don’t care. I just want to look really fucking cool.

Styling and style are subjective. I don’t really believe in insulting someone’s personal style. They probably woke up that day thinking they looked shit hot. Don’t get me wrong, I think there are ugly things. Ugly shoes, ugly jumpers, ugly shirts. But one’s trash is another’s treasure, as they say. So what makes a good stylist? I think you’ve just got to love clothing. You’ve got to see the story each piece has. You’ve got to appreciate the way clothing fits and feels, the satisfaction when the colours match. Equally, you need to wince when the colours don’t, murmur when the prints jar, or understand when the fabrics simply don’t work well together. You need to know what you like, and it has to be instinctive. The clothing has to speak to you and fuel your imagination.

If you put all of these together you can develop intention, and with intention comes confidence, and someone who is confident in their style or styling can make a look so believable, and suddenly those ugly shoes don’t seem so ugly anymore.

It would be weird to finish on an ugly note when writing for Rubato. This is the kind of brand that someone can envelop within their personal style effortlessly. The fabric falls gracefully and wears so well. I recall putting on the Lot Nr. 1 denim and Roper Shirt for the first time and thinking, “holy shit that feels good”. And when I told Carl from Rubato this reaction he had said to me, “you will wear this forever and it will change with you”, and I believe him to be right. These clothes provided me with the feeling that I constantly search for when trying on clothing, that I don’t even need to look in the mirror to know I’ve found something good. I suppose if I had one reason for how I want to be perceived when I wear this set, it should be that I look like a damn good stylist.