Earlier last year, I began (seriously) exploring some alternatives to my go-to Uniqlo U white tee. The fit is slightly boxy and while the cotton leans heavier, it’s still breathable. It’s always there when you need it – you can waltz into damn near any Uniqlo and you’re bound to find one ready to buy. In my travels, be it Seoul, New York, or Paris, it’s always been there for me when I needed it.
But devotion doesn't come without its growing pains. Over time, I developed a sense of each T-shirt's peculiarities, knowing the fit, softness, and age as soon as I looked at each one. And over time, production methods change. Perhaps this one fits perfectly, but this other one fits a bit too tight in the shoulders, rendering it unwearable on the pickiest of days. Over time, it became difficult to be excited about putting one on for the day. I couldn't stand the inconsistency.
So what did I do? After a 5-year dilemma, I bought a 2-pack of white tees from Lady White Co. Is paying $110 for two white T-shirts a bit ridiculous within the modern context? To some, absolutely. However, for me, it seems reasonable. If you value consistency in the details, it commands a price.
But do we always require the… ‘quality’ piece of clothing? The ‘nice’, ‘designer’ iteration of something we already have?
I consider myself to be a pragmatic shopper. At the end of the day, it’s my money being spent, so I want to make sure that I get the value of my dollars being put to use.
Over time, I’ve become growingly inundated with the idea of ‘buy it for life’ when buying clothes. In principle, there’s this consideration of its long-term function and ensuring relevance in the coming years. It’s a combination of craftsmanship, functionality, and design that’ll persist into the future.
But as one of my Economics professors once joked, does the long-term ever happen? I mean, the idea of long-term anything seems impossible in 2025. But I’d argue the intention underlying these long-term philosophies remains more fascinating than ever as the world becomes ever more fleeting.
No, nobody is perfect, and ‘figuring it out’ style-wise is just wishful thinking. But over the past five years, my taste has matured. Having a direction allows for bounded freedom less bogged down by the short-term. It also allows for appreciation without the urge to buy something because I realize it’s just temporary noise.
But with matured taste… generally comes a premium to be paid.
The desire for luxury can be like a swinging pendulum. One week, I want a pair of jeans made with some drapey Pima cotton, but then I'll just revert to being comfortable with my old Levi’s.
Luxury is an investment, and it can be difficult to determine which ‘things’ are worth your attention. Internal and external factors seem to nag at you from each and every angle. It can be your unique evolving tastes that fluctuate between what to buy, or it could be ‘The Investment’ section of Esquire that’s putting some new ‘must-buy’ in your head. We buy luxury due to the stories attached to these products that give them a life of their own. But I think the better consideration circles the idea of how everything ‘fits’ together. Each purchase occupies a space, so how do we make the best use of that… space?
It’s a delicate balance to strike. It almost suggests that the concept of ‘timelessness’ is impossible, like clothing consumption is an exercise in hyper-curation.
Though we’re constantly changing, I’d argue some personal (core) values remain consistent. These are the areas where you should invest most generously, those things you’re unwilling to give up. It’s not ‘the short-term’ or what some fashion publication collects in some digestible listicle - it’s a realization of what is lasting for yourself. There’s no ‘all of the above’ rule. By investing in what you care about, what becomes clear is a sincerity that forms from what you truly cherish.
Being raised by Northeasterners, I believe you always try to pay a premium for quality outerwear. That's the one piece (aside from shoes) you never cheap out on. As a kid, I hated what jackets my parents would put me in (specifically, a North Face Denali). Yes, clothes have to be utilitarian, but it doesn't have to come at the sacrifice of design. When I bought a Down Sweater from Patagonia at 19, it was a marrying between the debacle of 'something useful' and 'something pretty'.
But not everything in your wardrobe requires such an approach. It can be counterintuitive to the factors that make a piece so attractive in the first place. For example, I’ve paid a (triple-digit) premium for a crewneck sweatshirt by A.Presse. And I understand why it commands such a premium, given the 'vintage' finish applied to high-quality fabrics. But for what I value in my clothes, I think I would have appreciated the brand's vision by wearing one of their button-ups or sweaters. I find myself wearing an old Lee crewneck three times over the A.Presse one.
The ideal piece of clothing is designed with at least half of a shit given to its overall quality and construction. Vintage remains more popular than ever, but what can you buy new that's good value? Well, from my experience, here’s a few highlights I think would work for most people:
Uniqlo Socks: (no shit), but their socks are the best. I’ve had multiple iterations (Supima cotton-blend, ‘Colorful 50’ pairs, low-cut Heattech) - they’ve all delivered exceptionally well. I've replaced my Goldtoe and Dickies socks exclusively with Uniqlo.
FRONT 11201’s in-store line: Front General Store’s Japan outlet manufactures its in-house line domestically (in Japan). I’ve handled their stuff during my visits and was surprised at how well-finished and fitting their stuff was. Shipping could be an issue, but there’s always this classic workaround.
L.L. Bean: an eBay ‘favorite’ given its price point, but people may overlook buying the brand new in favor of other brands. You can't go wrong with their knitwear (this one is a classic) and their anoraks.
But really, there’s no ‘hard and fast’ rule to help determine what's worth the attention of your dollars. What I've shared is just my perspective. It's not right or wrong, but just the steps I take when defining my approach to clothes. I like focusing on the sources of inspiration, the annoyances, the lessons... the inevitabilities of life to be embraced.
I've subjected myself to life in the suburbs for the time being after being in the (actual) fastest-paced city in the world. It's an incredibly uninspiring environment, but I'm attempting to divert my focus more inward instead of being worried about my immediate surroundings. Ultimately, how do I want these factors to translate to how I dress myself?
This raises a broader question of how you align your consumption with what you prioritize. And while priorities shift, I've learned that having a set of preferences is key in keeping you grounded in these (sometimes) difficult states of flux.
But it's good to put these preferences under the occasional stress test. How will you respond to the challenges that deviate from your perspective? And how can reflection from these times be incorporated within the bounds of self-expression?
Till next,
- Noah