Friday, November 28, 2014

because you have better things to do: coast

Black Friday is relatively new to Canada and dumb as fuck. (I did, though, purchase some really justifiable sneakers from SSENSE.) This is not a holiday for us. We have to enter our vocation and stay there for eight whole hours leaving no time for us to shop. Wait, what is that? Oh, it has extended to the whole weekend. Great.

Is this America's attempt at trying to assimilate Canada into their belligerent capitalist ideals?

At your office or in your bedroom (because you are an unemployed writer), skip Black Friday by learning Aaliyah's dance moves from Rock the Boat. If you want, dance in costume with blue denim and a white crop top showing your midriff.

Change position, change position and coast.

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

holiday gift guide for people with too much money

There is always that particular person on your holiday list that seems to be a proprietor of everything and every year you contemplate: "what else does this fucker need that he/she doesn't already have?" Everyone loves a tiny horse.

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

if you're going to wear white

If there's one thing I truly, undeniably don't believe in, it's parties where I'm coerced into a certain dress code. The exception to this is Halloween. This weekend, for $142.20 + surcharges, you can get access to copious amount of shitty fucking beers and inebriated alpha bros at Bud Light's Sterilization Sensation.

Saturday, November 22, 2014

i went to a pop-up shop

The consumer season -- also known as Christmas -- is fast approaching and to no one's surprise, Beyonce drops a re-release of her self-titled album because why the fuck not ($$$). I'm not the type to order an eggnog and spend hours holiday shopping because that shit is depressing and I'm really just trying to ruin capitalism. That doesn't mean that I still can't enjoy myself. So, on this melancholic Saturday, I went to a holiday pop-up shop and purchased nothing.

Thursday, November 20, 2014

move the fuck over, bro

As an occasional subway rider, because sometimes life exists north of Bloor and east of Yonge, I intentionally comply to the mores of subway use. I pay my fare, I walk, not run to the platform, okay, sometimes I run and if a seat is a available, I quietly take my seat. Legs closed. I talk to no one because this is 2014.

In New York City, island of convoluted subway routes and a plethora of men appearing to give birth on the subway, is championing a campaign for men to deconstruct their masculinity. Closing your legs won't make you less of a man. You'll look polite, courteous and avoid the possibility of having a dick slip or a ball bulge. The campaign commences in January hoping to deter men of this heinous, albeit legal activity of spreading ones legs to consume more than their shared space.

The campaign is titled, "something new, something fresh." Sounds like a nice slogan for new douche users.

Monday, November 17, 2014

noggin accoutrements

This morning, residents of Toronto woke up to an amalgamation of rain and snow with feelings of confusion and possible reclusiveness. Let's inquire further by asking imperative questions. Do you call in sick and tell them your dog died? Do you bring an umbrella with you? Do you wear rain boots of snow boots or one on each? Rain jacket or winter coat? Are gloves appropriate? Sure. Toques? Yes, but not those fucking ridiculous looking 180 earmuffs.

Why? Because you do not want to look like you've aged 40 years and appear to still be living in the suburbs.

I feel, and you should too, that the 180 earmuffs, to a high degree, are redundant and will most likely not get you laid. If getting laid is your main concern, I suggest you burn them, douse it with gasoline and set that shit on fire. (Burning them will not actually get you laid.)

What I suggest, like it has been with the vikings, that you purchase a quintessential and functional toque to keep you warm. It will get you laid.* If you already own a toque, I am happy that you are having copious amounts of sex.

*I can't guarantee that unless you are professionally suave.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

ezra koenig: singer of songs and man of sweaters

Since its evidently sweater week here on Pacific Row and with the weather being conducive to the aforementioned knitwear -- why not look to none other than swooning lead singer of Vampire Weekend and professional sweater wearer Ezra Koenig for style advice. Somewhere in the previous sentence could have used a period, or a semi-colon. 

Sunday, November 9, 2014

new news, but not new news

Today in old news, but new news for me and everyone else without an Instagram account -- Monocle now sells clothes. The Monocle reader is well educated, a world traveler, probably works in graphic design, could be a lawyer, too and enjoys reading the Financial Times. I'll accept if you read Playboy, no one is judging.

You can now sport Monocle Voyage and carry Monocle because you are a very important person.

The inspiration for the collection is designed for the business traveler in mind. He is discerning. He's all about that same-day shipping from Amazon. His clothes aren't being manufactured in Bangladesh or Cambodia. Nope. He's expecting garments made from Italy or Japan because quality is key and clothes should be versatile and timeless.

I like the direction you are going Monocle Voyage. I am in the market for a high-quality basic jumper in melange grey. As it so happens, you are selling a melange grey jumper. And because your creative team is based out of London, I thought I would substitute sweater for jumper.

Photo: Monocle

Friday, November 7, 2014

redeeming your personal space

A quick Google search of men's bedrooms left me with photos of dark, impersonal and a real disconnect of how I would like to see my personal space. They were mainstream, lack lustre, dull and banal. They left me stagnant and impotent. I don't want to be inspired by dated views of hanging a bikini clad Sports Illustrated model on my wall or a pool table being the focal point of my "man cave." I'm looking for clean and personal interior design to reclaim my masculinity -- my personal space.

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

what your sneakers say about you

The world (I am speaking on behalf the world) and myself are exhausted at all the Jian Ghomeshi headlines flooding my newsfeed. Dear CBC, I understand you fired Ghomeshi, but honestly, inform me about Ebola, the US midterm elections or how to make apple pies because apple pies are democratic and delicious.

Therefore, if we all have to suffer perpetual news about Jian Ghomeshi and his hiring of criminal lawyer Marie Henein, then one more article about Common Projects won't hurt.

My attempt is finding who is Common Projects' niche demographic? Who is willing to shell out $400+ for a pair of beautiful Italian hand crafted sneakers with numbers on the periphery? Who even has that money?  I know who. It lands on two ends of the spectrum: the super cool alternative hipsters and the finance bros.

The super cool ultimately commences the trend. Slowly, one by one, like glaciers melting in the arctic, a cool person is purchasing a pair of Common Projects to complete their street style ensemble and permeating coolness. And then, shit hits the fan and the bros just ruin everything. (I don't purposely mean to target the bros, but they are an easy target.) They have money, they want to show you they have money and a new haircut and alas: Common Projects sneakers and a fresh fade. I once considered it a latent staple in my wardrobe, but the ubiquity of the sneakers is making them an uneasy footwear to consider.

I don't want to be an asshole, but Holt Renfrew really needs a new buyer for their mens sneaker department.

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

new banner, same shit

Surely, you can understand my absence as of late. I was busy planning the now world famous local celebrity Jian Ghomeshi Halloween costume only to realize that, that Ghomeshi costume was not as original as I thought. It permeated social media rather quick during and post-Halloween. There's a thing called regram? I am at lost with my generation.

Instead, I went with an even more original costume: Waldo. You can't fuck around with a classic.

I have been dabbling in the dark arts of Photoshop and I gave birth to this banner today (see: above). It only took about an hour and a half in labour and editing was a breeze. I am truly proud of this banner like a father is proud of his first born child.

You can finally start calling my blog by its true form: Pacific Row. Not Pacific Crow, as many of you have probably been obsessively wondering. Or, my neurotic tendencies were obsessively wondering for you. Ultimately, this is about branding. Getting to the real shit about what this blog is about: what it means to be male, fashion, the sadness of climate change and whether or not you should attend that dumb ass Gentlemen's Expo (coming soon, probably this week, I don't really know).