Random Observations #004
Worn-out cords, a Bulgarian folk shirt, and a selection of luxury clogs.
There are so many things I wish I could write about one day. In the Random Observations series, I attempt to put together my random thoughts and observations on clothing and related subjects in a shorter, more approachable format. This is one way for me to capture thoughts before they sink into oblivion. If you find any of the subjects helpful or questionable, do not hesitate to share your feedback in the comments below the article — I’d be happy to expand.
In the fourth episode of Random Observations, I talk about Bulgarian folk shirts, show how corduroy wears over time, and share my forbidden indulgence in the idea of luxury clogs.
Let’s get it!
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A Bulgarian Folk Shirt
I was listening to the Throwing Fits podcast with Jonah Weiner of
the other day and all of a sudden Lawrence Schlossman (whom I’ve been following since Sartorially Inclined and How To Talk To Girls At Parties in the early 2010s, although it didn’t take me far tbh) drops ‘the foothills of Bulgaria’ to describe the kind of clothing brands Jonah and his partner Erin cover in their sletter (a neat word they use instead of ‘newsletter‘). A lot of references in that first sentence, huh? Well, while I intend as hard as I can to keep my newsletter both approachable and insightful to people who tend to spend their time in more meaningful ways than geeking out about niche clothes, such references do make things a lot more fun.So anyway, back to Bulgaria. Last summer, two of my friends whom I met in Sofia were leaving for the USA. I wanted them to take some good memories of the place where we met, so I thought of Bulgarian folk shirts. Apparently, the best place to shop for them in Sofia is the underpass of the central metro station. Among the dumb KGB t-shirts and any imaginable kind of parfumerie made with Bulgarian roses, you will find a decent selection of cotton or linen folk shirts with handmade embroidery. We went there with my wife and started trying on the shirts to figure out sizing. While trying on clothes behind a plastic curtain and looking at the mirror among rows of tourist souvenirs is fun in itself, we actually loved the style, and instead of buying just two shirts for our friends, we walked out with four.
I don’t think people in Bulgaria wear folk shirts besides national holidays. But I love the popover style, the high band collar, and the handiwork. Besides, unlike now ubiquitous handmade clothing from India, there is uniqueness and small country pride to it. Although it does feel somewhat esoteric, I like to incorporate it in regular or even classic outfits. You know, in a Drake’s meets Story mfg. in Balkans type of way. This past Friday I wore it under a herringbone tweed sport coat with raw denim and white sneakers. My wife topped it off with her crazy custom-made cowboy boots. It was a blast.
So yeah, answering Jonah’s question, Bulgaria does have foothills, and there is cool handmade stuff over there (although not yet commercialized in a niche, swagged-out way).
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Worn-Out Corduroy
Often, the farther away is an item of clothing from the style I want to pursue, the better it fits me. But for some reason, I keep going against the grain towards the platonic ideal I created in my head (American collegiate style of 60s–80s). Fortunately, sometimes gut feeling wins over the rational mind, and I end up with an item of clothing that just feels right. This happened to be the case with a pair of Barena corduroy pants.
It’s not just pants. I wanted this whole look from the Norse Store fall/winter ’17 editorial:
There is nothing special about this particular ensemble. It’s rather basic. I am pretty sure one can easily recreate it with a lot more affordable items from popular brands. Yet, it feels right in every aspect to me. The proportions, the color coordination, the nonchalance, the effortlessness, the simplicity. I still check for the Marni quarter-zip top which was just ridiculously expensive to me at the time.
I did score the Cosma corduroy trousers by Barena for €90 though. They are as far from proper Ivy-style corduroy pants as one could imagine: carrot fitted, drawstring waisted, and cut at short length. In fact, because they are a full 12 cm shorter than my jeans, I have to wear them really low on the waist. Not only does it feel wrong and uncomfortable, but it also requires wearing long, voluminous tops. Which again takes me further away from the coveted Ivy-look in my head. Yet, the fits I put together with these trousers are some of my favorite.
I read somewhere that Yvon Chouinard, the founder of Patagonia, used to climb in corduroy shorts because of how tough is the fabric. Never having to work with my hands, I treated the material in the opposite way. For me, corduroy has always evoked pictures of a forest cabin with its quiet comfort of a warm fireplace. I know, I know, forest cabins don’t quite work that way. But you know the feeling. Now, after six years of wearing corduroy pants, I can see why Mr. Chouinard appreciated the fabric.
Even though I haven’t done any manual labor in these pants, I still find them to hold surprisingly well, considering how lightweight is the corduroy they are made of. The signs of wear are most pronounced in areas where the pants rub against clothes worn on top: waist, pockets, and fly flap. Surprisingly, the fabric hasn’t fully lost its nep. Sure, it has flattened over time, but it doesn’t look fully compressed (which happens to fleece due to longer fibers). The main reason why I downgraded the pair to house pants is that the wales on the knees have rubbed off almost entirely. I was shocked when my wife protested since she is the one who finds faded denim shabby. That’s an ultimate testament to how well corduroy fabric holds over time.
Small ask: If you find this article exciting or helpful, I’d be incredibly grateful if you helped others discover it. Sharing it with friends, commenting on the blog, or simply hitting ❤️ are all a huge help. Thank you!
Luxury Clogs
It’s 2024, and there is no need for yet another rationale for clogs. Love it or hate it, they are everywhere. Gosh, fashion even brought Uggs back. I still consider Birkenstock Boston to be the best of its genre (in taupe suede). I bought my first pair of Bostons back in 2016 and still wear them (although I’d better change the rubber sole soon). They also happen to have one of the most comfortable footbeds I’ve ever met. With that being said, I plead guilty to indulging in the idea of luxury alternatives from time to time. Without further ado, here are some of my favorites. Unlike with Birkenstocks, durability and comfort are not guaranteed.
Mystery Links
And that’s a wrap for the fourth issue of Random Observations! Honestly, this time the observations totally went out of control. I clearly couldn’t deliver on the promise to keep the format short. Yet, I’m proud of the output. Let me know how you feel about it in the comments section on the blog. Seriously, any feedback helps!
I have a pair of vintage Japanese Uniqlo cords which do in fact fit the Ivy bill, but I absolutely concur in the beauty of how they’ve worn. On the backs of the calves mine have picked up tiger like horizontal stripes across the wales and similar flattening on the knees