The Bengal Stripe

I can’t place exactly when it happened, but at some point in our lifetimes, loafers started feeling like a second skin for me, and for a lot of other guys like me. Maybe it was all those old midcentury Ivy League moodboard photos, where loafers show up with such regularity that you start to think they must have been issued alongside the acceptance letters.

Ruby and I are moving in a couple of weeks, on my birthday of all days, so I’ve been taking the opportunity to look at everything in my life with fresh eyes. I’m getting rid of a good chunk of it. I’ve always liked the idea of owning things that get better with time, but that doesn’t mean everything deserves to stay. So I’m trying to be more honest about what I actually use and what I actually like. It turns out that is a pretty good way to refine your sense of taste, too.

Back in late June, Ruby and I were jaunting through Tokyo for the first leg of our honeymoon in Japan, which sounds a lot more graceful and romantic than it was in reality.

Since 2010, The Bengal Stripe has mostly existed as words and moodboard images. Thousands of them, in fact. Essays about tailoring, denim, history, military clothing, shoes, sweaters, and all the strange little corners of menswear that seem insignificant until you realize they’re quietly shaping how we get dressed every morning. The Bengal Stripe is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

My wedding was never going to be a particularly traditional affair. Not because Ruby or I have anything against tradition, but because neither of us has ever been very interested in perfection. We like things that feel lived in. We wanted everyone to have fun, to dance, to feel like they belonged there. With both of us working in fashion, the aesthetic stuff, thankfully, could take care of itself. We gave each other complete freedom over what we wore. And naturally, I’d already made up my mind.

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Plus recent pickups from Alex Mill, Buck Mason, Moredocks, Quaker Marine, and more. Gee whiz, it’s been a minute! I’ve been busy getting married, which is a whole story I’ll try to condense here, but the menswear-related stuff has been stellar. Over the past month, I’ve picked up some new favorites I’ve had to make room for, though not everything has been a hit.

There is something about Kotn that I keep coming back to. A simplicity, reminiscent of my favorite 90s, 00s, and early 2010s brands, backed by a similar quality but increased attention to provenance and sustainability. It’s at least a tier above more accessible options, but not some lofty “maybe someday” dream in the slightest. Just honest, well-made clothing that doesn’t explicitly connote any specific sort of lifestyle or politics.

I know what you’re thinking: what the hell is this? I had the same gut reaction. It’s an odd thing for me to be promoting anything for any reason, really. But, my friends at Heddels—a site I respect immensely for the wealth of knowledge they provide on goods that get better with time—tapped me to tag onto a giveaway they’re running with Bleu de Chauffe—a company that has been making bags in France for over a decade.

There was a time when Banana Republic didn’t feel like a mall brand. Back when Mel and Patricia Ziegler started the brand in 1978, they were building in first-person, designing clothing that played off the military and outdoor surplus pieces they were sourcing during their travels around the world. It wasn’t “inspired by” in the way brands use that phrase now; it was more literal than that. They found things, wore them, tweaked them, and then told stories about them.