From left to right: Daniel and Harry – all apparel and footwear by Nike; Cosmo – all apparel and footwear by Adidas; John wears Nike; Gabriel, Billy and Twiggy wear Adidas.
We got a bunch of good-looking boys, dressed half in Adidas and half in Nike and got them to play football against each other for a fashion shoot. They were pretty good for fashion people.
Nike Sporstwear, Nike’s high-end clothing line, has got London’s Cassette Playa and Dutch art guy Parra to do a rivals collection. Some of it is already out, and the remainder goes on sale at the end of the month. Cassette Playa’s varsity jackets, tees and technical apparel totally defeat Parra’s stuff. But he probably doesn’t mind that, because he’s come over all liberal and Dutch, and in a touchingly, old-fashioned way, has dedicated his stuff to the sports teams that lose (which is hardly the Nike philosophy). Read more »
Hussein Chalayan, Puma’s newly enrolled creative director and designer of his own mentalist line, has just launched the terribly named “Urban Mobility Collection” for the firm. Sadly it doesn’t feature glass bubble dresses, skirts that turn into coffee tables, robot frocks, Swarovski LED laser dresses or vagina-revealing hijabs like Chalayan’s previous stuff. These designs are less the sort of thing J Lo might have worn, while she was inside that serial killer’s mind in The Cell and more about sports this time.
I went to the gym yesterday and realised that sportswear is to style what landmines are to hopscotch - and no amount Wu Wear will persuade me otherwise. Like so many women I am no more likely to throw on a tracksuit than anarchists are likely to crush The City of London, and so, for us, a new gymwear is born: a kind of nightwear-lingerie-dancing-builder combo that makes us all look like we’re being taken out for a walk from our day centres, every time we hit the gym.
There’s a fine line between horny-slob-who’s-up-for-it in a good, old-fashioned fuck-in-the-bathroom way and horny-slob-who’s-up-for-it in a Jesus-Christ-what-have-I-done, gonorrhea-ish way.
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This guy is like one big middle finger to all the losers who think extending the fork on a bike makes them "zany." One big, skeletal middle finger dipped in monster.
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