This is a recap-ish of the latest podcast episode. You can listen to the episode below before or after you read. That’s because I tend to expand on topics from the pod as well as straight-up write about things that we did not discuss. The choice is yours in how you want to proceed!
Hello, my friends!
You know, it’s hard to come back to real life after you’ve had a great vacation, especially one that took you to Japan. Now, instead of fantastic menswear stores stocking items in my taste or partaking in libations to my heart’s [reasonable] content, I’m back to trawling flea markets and thrift stores for vintage (eBay is better anyway) and timing my alcohol and water intake carefully so that I am good to drive home. Los Angeles, baby! At least I’m not walking 30K steps in the sweltering humidity; I missed wearing proper ties and my little leather shoes.
As I’ve said before, the biggest draw in this menswear hobby isn’t really about visiting cool stores and buying things; it’s about getting dressed for whatever Occasion arises in your life. It could be hanging out with friends, weekly trivia, or just working from home! Sometimes the context inspires a particular POV that you want to play up. Other times, it’s a low-stakes situation that gives you the freedom to wear whatever tickles your fancy— or a fun outfit from your backlog that’s been waiting its turn. Japan certainly had its share of good fits (some may indeed be goated), but after 10+ days of working with a minimalist closet, I was ready to go back to having my full closet at my disposal yet again.
And so, I got right into it immediately after coming back. I went to a Cowboy Poetry event, and while I didn’t take any photos at the open mic (I was so jet-lagged), I still wore a fun, slightly maximalist western fit featuring my Beams+ engineer jacket. A Saturday was spent entirely at a coffee shop, writing that exceedingly long travelogue about Japan. Because I wanted to feel studious, I wore a tonal brown ensemble, pairing my brown suit with a checked shirt and a muted paisley tie; my new black Avignons were my own hipster (or is it “performative”?) alternative to the other Doc Martens at the cafe.
For my return to weekly trivia, I was set to wear a khaki suit ensemble with my pith helmet. Much to my chagrin, my favorite nerd competition was canceled in favor of the World Cup (boo, sports), and so I ended up looking hilariously dandy at the local pool hall; this was quite nice, as canceled trivia nights are usually donzo, with people deciding to stay home. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad! I was better at it than I thought (I’ve never really played much before, but from what I remember, I was horrid) and one guy even complimented my look! Who would have thought that white bucks would be just fine for billiards?
Of course, in true Ethan fashion, there were also External Occasions that invited Whimsical attire. Again, after being on a trip with a limited closet, these affairs were compelling and exciting. One of which was yet another Nerf event, the biggest one in LA of the year, as it had around 30+ players. I find that this silly and intense activity is truly one of the best things to dress for. It’s softer than airsoft and cleaner than paintball, which means you can literally wear whatever you want.
Previous Nerf wars had me in bold attire, leaning toward sci-fi resistance wear rather than milsim, which is the only POV players tend to have, aside from athletic wear (this is a competitive “sport” after all). This time was a bit different for me. I could afford to change it up! My roommate Jose suggested that I go for something a bit sportier, something along the lines of vintage hunting/outdoors attire. I was sold. I even went on a hiking date a few months ago, and Nerf was a great way to build on that vibe.
Riding boots and riding pants (my newly dyed brown ones) were worn yet again, now paired with a short-sleeved rayon sport shirt in a sharp black plaid. On top was my tan cotton-silk Fair Isle sweater vest, tucked into my pants and fastened with a chunky black belt that I believe belonged to my mother, which I asked to keep during college. This big belt not only exuded a more utilitarian or rugged air than the thin belts I typically wear, but it also felt quite 20s, which, along with riding boots and breeches, was en vogue at that time. I topped it all off with my trusty brown Wellema fedora, which was more dramatic than a sporty Tyrolean.
I felt cool. I mean, you obviously gotta feel good whenever you step out of the house, but it’s another thing to feel like you look good when you’re playing a competitive game. And even though no one else was really “dressed up” in any sense of the word (there was one dude in a milsim rig, which I respected), the outfit only added to the immersion in my game, like I was a character in some wild battle. Most of my compatriots said I looked Western or even Australian (surprised no one called out “Indiana Jones” despite my brown fedora), but they meant it endearingly. At one point, a Nerf content creator asked me to record my hot take; I told him I think more people should dress up (in some way) to play Nerf, citing again that the stakes are relatively low compared to other similar sports. He agreed completely, stating that Nerf should look like a Fortnite lobby, with everyone wearing something expressive and whimsical.
Time will only tell if that actually happens, but you can bet your foam ass that I’ll be doing my part— provided that a nerf war actually aligns with my schedule.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay too long as I had a friend’s pool (as in water) party to attend. Yet another fun thing to dress for: an afternoon and early evening spent relaxing in the water. My terry cloth shirt, swim trunks, and pith helmet (the best summer hat to wear around water, as it won’t shrivel up) would get some wear yet! Of course, I didn’t spend the whole time in such attire, nor did I show up in my riding boots and sweater vest. I changed, donning an untucked aloha shirt with my big-ass brown gaucho pants, fisherman sandals, and a pith helmet as end caps.
A Wes Anderson Concert
Another delightful and outfit-inspiring event was a Wes Anderson concert put on by the Hollywood Bowl. As a big fan of film scores, live music, and WA (what menswear guy isn’t?), I just had to go!
The choice of attire was a hard one, not only because I’ve done a few direct looks before (The Phoenician Scheme, The French Dispatch, and Rushmore) but also because my style is inherently Wes Anderson-esque! I’m no FE Castleberry, who initially became famous for his own WA-isms in menswear but has honestly moved on to WA-blocking and photography instead of direct styling itself. The distinction between Castleberry and WA is much more distinct, now that the latter has moved toward leveraging period fare instead of the punky, retro-modern aesthetic that graced the first few films in his catalog. I digress. In any case, WA’s whimsical, quirky take on vintage tailoring with a dash of prep is ultimately very Ethan-friendly, creating one of the few times I’ve ever had decision paralysis. Which avenue should I go down?
Spencer came to the rescue for both my fit and August’s bonus episode, as he recommended The Life Aquatic. As you’ll hear later, that film holds a special place in my heart, as I find it the most cathartic among WA’s entries (Asteroid City is a good second); that said, it’s not a film I’ve seen as often as the others. TLA does include an iconic black-tie look (a menswear genre that actually isn’t all that present in WA films), where its red beanie-adorned cast keeps their practical and casual headwear even when in evening wear. Leveraging that look for the concert was such an obvious move considering how its soundtrack was on the programme as well as the fact that it was black tie, something I try to do for every LA Phil outing. It was also an opportunity for me to redux a fit I had done long before.
You see, back in lockdown (an angsty, sad, and very Zissou time of my life), I dressed up as black-tie Zissou for Halloween to, you know, feel something. At the time, I didn’t actually own a proper tuxedo; I had simply worn dinner jackets and evening trousers if I wanted to go formal. And so, the 2020 version had me in a navy suit (which was cotton), black tassel loafers, a regular white dress shirt, and, of course, a red beanie. To evoke Zissou’s modest trio of medals, I used pins that featured miniature versions of my favorite paintings. It was a fun bit of whimsy, even if almost no one saw it. But now, six years later, I was ready to do it properly— in a proper black-tie rig.
That meant wearing my trusty SuSu dinner suit, along with my stiff wing collar (Zissou wears a soft point collar), turquoise cufflinks (light blue is for his Team), blue socks, and opera pumps. The red beanie, of course, was the same one from 2020, as I’ve had it since 2018. Quite an upgrade, am I right? The improvements kept coming with the use of costume medals. It’s a bit superfluous, but I felt like including them just made the ensemble that much better. My aim was to dress like Steve Zissou himself, rather than just a member of his team. And honestly, I actually enjoyed their silly little jingle whenever I walked! I also felt like the striped ribbons added a point of interest to the outfit, outside of the vibrant red knit cap, of course.
Don’t worry, I’m planning on replacing the medal part with some ceramic tchotchke… as soon as I figure out what those could be. A tiny musical note? A necktie? I’m open to suggestions!
The program was truly epic and one of the best I’ve ever been. Syncopated, electric pulses from “Ping Island” (The Life Aquatic) started the concert, with Mark Mothersbaugh himself playing synthesizer, while Beck’s band and the Bowl Orchestra (conducted by Thomas Wilkins) provided accompaniment. Snippets of Desplat’s own entries were also peppered in, but the real focus was the iconic song-songs (aka stuff with lyrics) placed beautifully in WA’s films; the use of “Needle in the Hay” and “These Days” in The Royal Tenenbaums are some of my favorites, and it was incredible to see them performed live, by Beck and Jackson Browne, respectively.
Along with the iconic music, you also had Bill Murray in a red beanie and Jason Schwartzman (in a perfect 2010s shag cut) emceeing the event, which ultimately made the whole night a celebration of indie sleaze. The audience seemed to respond in kind, who were all either dressed in references to WA films (The Life Aquatic and Fantastic Mr. Fox were the most popular) or in the stereotypical subgenres of aughts hipster style; I lost count of how many times I saw high-water cuffed pants (with white socks + loafers), denim jackets (fully adorned with pins and patches), and big chunky glasses. I guess the 2010s may indeed make a return… and I don’t hate it.
My outfit was a small hit, with a handful of fellow attendees mentioning their kudos as I walked by. My girlfriend also dressed up, though not as Eleanor; she opted to do Jane. It was easy to do because, just like me, she already owned elements of the character’s clothes: a field shirt, chinos, and tall boots. Her use of my old jungle jacket (which I can’t believe I ever fit into) and move of tying her hair in a ponytail really sold the look. She hasn’t seen every WA film, but after seeing just how great the soundtracks are, I think she’s sold on making our way through the archive. I mean, the Criterion Closet was right there and did offer the entire WA collection thus far. [No, I did not buy it…But I did go home with vinyls of The French Dispatch and Asteroid City.]
The craziest part of the evening was that we did all of this on the same day we hiked to Switzer Falls. It’s not a crazy trek by any means (about a 2-3-hour round trip, depending on your pace), but we were quite tired by the time the concert let us out at 10PM. With that day’s outfits going from a fishing vest and Danner boots to a tux with dainty opera pumps, I think it’s safe to say this Sunday truly represented the extremes of classic menswear attire. And I guess it also proves just how fun LA can be, giving you the magic of nature and Da Movies, all in one day (and less than an hour’s distance between the two).
I’m never leaving this place!
Anime Expo 2026
On the subject of cosplaying and LA, my last Occasion is Anime Expo, my annual nerd-out (or rather, otaku-out day) and one of the biggest fandom events in Los Angeles (I think its better than ComicCon, which I’ve never been to lol). Honestly, you, my dear readers, will get more AX coverage than anything from inside the Fortezza’s walls at Pitti (because I will likely never attend…and because I just have such diminishing interest in menswear culture as of late).
It was indeed a bit funny to go to AX after just coming back from Japan, but honestly, I loved it. Even though I had a bit of nerd stuff when I was in Akihabara, it was clear I hadn’t done enough, so having one of the biggest Anime conventions right in my home city (and just one bus line away) was perfect. I was able to watch a few new releases, like the first episode of Star Wars Visions: The Ninth Jedi (a non-canon Star Wars adventure series) as well as the premiere of the 2nd season of We Are Polar Opposities (a wholesome high school rom/sit-com that makes me wish I had that level of friendship when I was younger). There’s also the epic artist alley, where I spent most of my money (on stickers, since my walls are at capacity). And, as I’ll get into in a moment, this was my first-ever cosplay meet-up in 10 years. Yes, as you may have seen in the news, AX 2026 was quite busy, but this was certainly one for the books.
As always, I cosplayed as Porco Rosso, who is probably the most classic/vintage menswear character in all of Anime (Miyazaki-san definitely has a penchant for mid-century, both in fashion and in cars/planes). Because it had a great reception last year despite being an alternate look, I did Porco’s white suit for Day one, wearing my 4-ply cream SuSu Suit with a plain spearpoint and red deco-stripe summer tie to evoke his solid red number (animated films seldom do pattern mixing on their sartorially minded characters). For his cream hat (likely meant to be a straw fedora), I donned my vintage silverbelly Stratoliner, with the brim snapped down. Finally, I wore my vintage (of indeterminate age) twenties-style tortoise shell sunnies to send up Porco’s iconic round glasses. Only a handful of people got it IRL, but my TikTok fitcheck seemed to have been a bit popular!
I would be remiss if I didn’t do Porco’s flight suit, which I’ve done every year, improving it each year. This might be the best version yet! The biggest change was the flight cap, which has graduated from a Party City polyester costume piece to a vintage Banana Republic suede cap. Let me tell you, organic materials just feel better if you have to surround your head in them, especially in the July heat (though this summer has been mild here in LA). It also just fits and looks better, appearing quite “authentic”; after all, my aim with any cosplay I do is to wear the real-life versions of what such a character would actually be wearing. Of course, I wasn’t actually in a khaki jumpsuit, but I think my combo of tan riding pants and a khaki rayon sportshirt was just fine. The colors are a bit off (my khaki point-collar work shirt is a better match), but rayon was just more comfortable to wear (and it gets the point across). Oh, and I also got a long cotton-linen scarf, which felt more dramatic and aviator-esque compared to my shorter cream opera scarves. In any case, this was the best Porco Rosso cosplay I’ve ever done.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get any photos of the cosplay, outside of the fit pics I took before I left the house. That’s because that day (Day 3) was one that I spent alone either in the artist alley buying stickers and OC zines (as opposed to IP-associated art) or at the handful of panels I was interested in. This was also because I had waited too long to get a free Vocaloid concert that sold out by the time I got out of the artist alley (which indeed took quite a while to get through due to the crowds). My other pals got tickets, so I was truly left to my own devices that day.
The major cosplay was on Day 2 (when I had the aforementioned gathering): Adult Reborn from Katekyō Hitman Reborn!
This niche (but popular, depending on your circles and knowledge of ball) anime was celebrating its 20th anniversary this year, and despite the lack of fanfare from the con itself (I didn’t even see much representation in the artist alley or exhibit hall), I was excited to catch this meetup show up on the schedule. As a mafia-themed Shōnen manga/anime, Reborn! was iconic during my teen years. I was particularly taken by the titular Reborn, a sharply dressed hitman-turned-mob boss tutor (he’s there to guide the next mafia leader, Tsuna, who is still in high school) who, like seven of his specially-powered compatriots, is cursed to be a baby; I mainly liked his adult form, which was as cool and charming as you would think.
Both versions rocked a green gun/lizard (Leon the chameleon changes into whatever Reborn needs) and a suit and fedora, but Baby Reborn had a red shirt and hat ribbon, while Adult Reborn had a yellow one. I just like yellow more, so Adult Reborn was what I went for, both as a teen and now, funnily enough, as a proper adult. I’m no stranger to reduxing old looks, but this one was a really interesting one to upgrade, mainly because my old cosplays aren’t exactly “menswear”, despite it incorporating a suit, tie, and hat. Doing it now allowed me to add more of that vintage-menswear flair and make it more “Ethan”.
So, in addition to painting a realistic toy pistol (I kept the orange tip, obviously), I taped a yellow silk ribbon on top of my black Wellema fedora, which with its bespoke, vintage-esque dimensions, was already more dynamic and flattering than the trilby I wore over a decade ago. My shirt was also more interesting, a subtle plaid work shirt I got from Mister Freedom; I still don’t own much in the way of red shirts. While I don’t own (or need) a black suit, my dark navy SB worked out perfectly, looking quite sharp as it enveloped my slimmish 30s black tie and vibrant shirt combo. With my tall heeled, side zip boots (a sharper choice than trad tassel loafers or my chunky Avignons), the whole ensemble was very chic and cool, being something I could potentially wear to Go Out…if it wasn’t for the matching fedora and green gun.
The look was great during the day, with quite a few recognitions as I walked around the con, which was quite nice! The cosplay meet-up itself was intimate, as again, this is a 20-year-old anime that was actually canceled (the manga was properly finished). That being said, the energy in our little corner of the con (outside, next to the Crypto arena) was bustling with wholesome camaraderie, with everyone just happy that people actually showed up. There was one other Reborn (who went as the Baby version, based on his red hat band), who even lent me his 3D-printed Leon magnet for a photo! It was such a pleasant and nostalgic moment, ultimately reminding me of when I went to a Reborn! gathering back in 2010 (which had a bigger turnout as it was just getting popular in the States).
A Rant on the State of Menswear Content and Social Media
Coming back home and writing about my trip and my regular life reminded me of what this hobby is all about: despite all the menswear talk, it’s really not about the clothes per se, but about wearing them.
It’s obvious that I am fascinated by the intersection between menswear and everyday life, expressed mainly through the outfits we put together—and what we do once they’re on. Sometimes we take the activity into consideration, and sometimes we find ourselves on adventures wearing an ensemble that feels out of place and yet is completely reflective of who we are, or at least the part of ourselves that we wanted to emphasize that day. There is a wellspring of insights and stories that come from that confluence; that’s what I wish social media in the menswear space was used for, rather than, well, stuff that is meant to generate engagement and ultimately profit. It just seems like a weird consideration for the personal act of wearing clothes.
And so, it’s natural that my homecoming brought up a topic that I’ve wanted to discuss on the pod for a long time but haven’t simply because the thoughts weren’t fully formed yet. Yes, the sentiment I’m about to share is nothing new (you guys know I have strong feelings about social media and influencers), but it’s only until recently that I’ve been able to put my icks into words (I use “ick” because I don’t think my vitriol is a proper critique). Yes, we discuss all of this on the pod, but I’m going to recap some of it for you here… and afford myself more space to add some colour.
Overall, I believe that “menswear” content should obviously be about what you actually wear: how we reconcile Personal Taste and the need for Self-expression with the activities of our regular life and the social conventions we choose (or don’t choose) to follow. After all, my core mantra is that “Menswear is for Fun” and social media should be used for sharing that. I also believe that that social media, specifically when it comes to profit-chasing influencers, as well as influencer-adjacent (or influencer-aspiring) practices, is a detriment to that. In fact, that content (and the activities around it) only serve to further separate menswear from “real life” (as nebulous as that phrase is), because it turns any thought on clothing and its related consideration (aka life) into content, something optimized for consumption and ready for engagement, followers, and those sweet, sweet brand deals (whether it means gifted items or actually being paid to post). It’s just a far cry from using social media to share things from your life or how life actually works.
To be clear, guides and historical deep dives (and the occasional recommendation list or shop visit) certainly help build “thunder” by expanding taste or giving you something to get Tangible with. But I do think we’ve started to lose something the more menswear content simply becomes, well, content. Fodder. Slop. Stuff where people talk about or post clothes for the sake of talking about clothes rather than how they apply to their daily wear. These are posts designed to be just as easy to consume as fast fashion and as dispassionate as resharing a Minion meme. It’s just there. Obviously, this isn’t anything new, as content creators have made guides and recommendation lists chock-full of garms that they will never buy or even want to seek out to experience for themselves, but I do think it’s gotten worse.
One example is posts about outfits that aren’t actually what the person wore that day. Instead of being a record of life and a living example of blending expression with the context of real life, it’s just fodder, slop content that involves a modicum of menswear (because it has clothes) and is just meant to be liked and scrolled through. This tends to happen whenever a menswear-darling brand has a lookbook or runway show, when menswear creators (which is nearly anyone who posts fits, honestly) end up making outfits that reference the brand, usually by playing up its outlandish elements. It would be great if these creators leveraged those moves for an actual fit, whether it’s for an event or to hang out with friends (I prefer the latter); I would have loved to see guys experiment with a madras-on-madras outfit or even try an Edwardian-style neckscarf for a daily fit. Doing helps show that Real Life has room for whimsy and is full of expression; outfits are indeed the intersection of taste, context, and agency. But no, those posts are really meant to be jokes, with no bearing on building or encouraging personal expression, which, really, just makes them a slog. It’s more ironic than earnest, but above all, it is intended for social media consumption rather than as a case study or at least a shareable record of what occurred in someone’s Real Life.
Another one that comes to mind is “Get Ready With Me” style content. Funnily enough, I’ve been asked by a handful of followers why I don’t do this sort of thing, since I seem to enjoy breaking down how I put my outfits together. That’s because GRWMs are fake— they take an often internal and solitary experience and turn it into an optimized, engagement-bait-laden parasocial experience, all by simulating on FaceTime with a friend (a framework that, at this point, pervades nearly all of social media). In other words, it contentizes the self-imposed challenge of making outfits in a way that evokes television episodes, hooking you as you wonder where things will go next, even though each outfit is absolutely planned/made in advance. It’s also just odd to get fully dressed for a fit check and record it, only to change into something else (and do it multiple times in the video). It’s not that the considerations behind an outfit aren’t interesting (they are, and it’s what I love writing about), but I think they’re best left for after an outfit is fully made, as a way to look back and reflect rather than as overly manufactured, faux-“in-progress” slop.
Similar to this is the “help me pick an outfit” slop, which is just a bunch of pre-put-together outfits. The outfits aren’t bad (they’re often good, actually), but it’s the posturing for the invisible yet still very much considered audience that gets me. It’s also just a collection of outfits put on just for the video rather than, well, the actual activities of the day.
Perhaps my biggest gripe is with the act of turning life into an episodic, tune-in-for-the-next-video aspect for social media. Again, this isn’t all that new, especially with the rise of TikTok and short-form content, but the gleeful adherence to contentization and overt plays for engagement, especially with something that is as personal as making an outfit, is just icky to me. Obviously, this problem pervades all content genres, not just menswear.
I came across a menswear-adjacent content creator (no, I will not share it) who made multiple videos detailing their process of decorating their apartment for a themed party they are “set” to host. From the get-go, it’s framed completely episodically: one video is his journey of adding drapes to his dining room, while another is about them redecorating their existing decor to fit the vibe of the party, by which I mean they forced themselves to “hide” certain accouterments that aren’t “on theme”. Now again, insight into the planning process and considerations is fine, if not a bit fascinating, especially for others who want to throw similar parties. But my issue lies with how all of these videos are framed.
The more you look at it, the more you realize just how odd it is that these videos are framed as if the party hasn’t happened yet. Everything is in progress. The number of videos makes it feel like they’ve spent days decorating, and you’re counting down to the party alongside them. This is emphasized by the video’s script, which, just like a GRWM, is framed to make it feel like you’re watching “real time”. And yes, there were even videos about the outfits they’re deciding to wear for the big day, which, again, based on the “timeline” of the other videos, feel both days in advance and in the moment. It’s almost as if they’re getting ready while setting up (a real-life thing to do), even though these videos were uploaded days apart. Obviously, this is all intentional, meant to keep you engaged until he finally releases content from the shindig itself. It’s like a damn TV show, except it’s supposed to be about something personal, like a party.
I’ll repeat that it’s not that the considerations of planning a party aren’t interesting or authentic (quite the opposite actually), but it’s the idea that the whole thing has been contentized and played up in the parasocial attitude that it just feels odd to me. To me, it feels like this and similar creators are milking a totally normal, real-life experience in order to farm engagement or, in the case of the TikTok fund, literally money (where Partners are paid for views). At the same time, the multitude of parts is also half-baked or unfinished, which I guess is the point because it makes the audience want more. “Follow along”, rather than “keep watching”, as it were. It’s much more social media-friendly, especially for Content Creators and Influencers (yes, with capital letters).
I clearly tend to prefer long posts done retrospectively, rather than multiple parts framed “in the moment”; I’ve tried my best to avoid multiple-part entries. I’ve often been asked why this is the case by both curious readers and exasperated friends who try to support me by reading this silly blog. This actually came up when I released the recent Japan blog, as well as the big one on Whimsy, the latter of which has a fair number of subtopics. The answer is easy: I simply want whatever I make to be holistic and complete. I just want something to be done, to release an actual, finalized “product”, something I can look back on without going through multiple posts. And so, each blog post is a full exploration and debrief on a particular topic or experience. There is no need to wait until the next one to find out exactly what went down—everything from beginning to end is there and ready to be read (“consumed” works, too).
It just makes no sense to make multiple videos about deciding on what to wear; imagine if I did that about my compositions or my photos! I guess to me, social media is about sharing, and so my main concern is to get the damn thing done— the outfit, song, photo, the activity— and then talk about it. That way, whatever it is has already affected my life and can now be explored and reflected on. I am now free to move on and experience the next thing, rather than milking something for the sake of it.
That last point reminds me of a great blog post from Lee, a magnificently stylish artist and, yes, occasionally sponsored-influencer. Thanks to that latter descriptor, Lee has had firsthand experience intentionally leveraging the parasocial and episodic nature of social media. I encourage you to read the whole thing, but I’ll share the ending: they’ve decided to take a step back and increase the privacy in their lives, namely by scaling back the episodic approach to social media, cutting down on progress posts and only sharing finished work. They also talked about posting less about their actual life (such as things they do for fun or anything that involves friends/partners), which is ironic for me, as someone whose content is mainly about those aspects.
My only defense is that sharing my life/activities is supremely important in my holy crusade “mission” of showing just how fun menswear can be. This “fun” is not just about the outfit, but about how exactly the outfit interacts with the lives we lead, whether it’s about playing into the activity’s vibes or subverting contextual and cultural expectations (both intentionally and unintentionally, such as if I wear a suit for fun and refuse to change despite a spontaneous invitation to play pool). Even after doing this for over a decade, I still don’t think people would believe I do this without some proof. I also simply like having a record I can share with people (instead of repeating the same points every time it comes up). In any case, I simply believe this is best done in retrospect, with time for introspection, rather than by following the immediacy of sharing “something” or “anything” for people to consume and engage with. The outfit, the event, whatever the topic happens to be, occurred in the past. The audience is only getting a record of it because the creator chose to share it, keeping a semblance of a parasocial barrier intact. To me, writing does it best, but most long-form, holistic content gets the job done. Obviously, GRWMs and multi-part content are also a form of “historical record”, but they do not portray themselves as such. Again, their whole aim is for you, the viewer, to bto be with them, seeing their decisions in “real time”—or to make it feel that way.
The more I think about the “format” of social media and how much it’s optimized, the more I realize that my “ickyness” with content creators (and people who aspire to be them) is really due to how they view their audience. To them, the term “audience” doesn’t just mean “viewer”, someone who just happens to read your stuff, be it a follower or a rando. No, to content creators, the audience is a stakeholder. You may think that the use of a corpo-term is silly, but I find it accurate. After all, the corporation-influencer would “cease to exist” without this audience, to paraphrase the infamous 1963 Stanford Research Institute memorandum. Audiences are indeed financially invested in their influencer-corporation; they often support their creator by buying items from the creator or their sponsors, as well as by watching everything they do (views are money, thanks to the TikTok creator fund). The extra ickiness comes when brands themselves are part of this audience, since your content serves as a portfolio/resume/case study for potential partnerships.
Influencers and content creators (and again, anyone aspiring to be one) are heavily aware of this dynamic and lean into it. Corpo-content creators do anything they can to placate their stakeholder-audience, which in this world means optimized, episodic/engagement-farm output that is friendly to audience-stakeholders and brands. Even non-episode content feels like a press release or worse, LinkedIn slop; other times, it feels like a “hello kids” moment, where the creator simply has to do memes and trends to maintain digital relevance. Again, the influencer/content creator needs an audience; otherwise, it will cease to exist. As I’ve mentioned before, this whole dynamic is eerily close to how MLMs operate, in which “marketers” treat anyone and everyone as a potential customer and often leverage parasocial elements to build a connection and ultimately make a sale.
Oh yeah, back to that party post I saw. When the proper recaps finally came out, it was revealed that the party had a sponsor. Free booze is quite a boon, but it’s no wonder why the whole thing was so optimized for social media. But it does beg the question, would the party have happened (or even been posted about) if there wasn’t a sponsor? Likely not!
Yes, the biggest issue with social media will always be creators’ intentional leaning of their content toward generating profits,either in the form of free clothes or actual monetary payout.
It is that overt pandering and panhandling to viewer-audiences and brand-audiences in a businessy, algorithm-friendly way that always feels weird to me, especially given how gleefully people participate—and how audiences reward it. The fact that most content is so obviously based on increasing stakeholder value just makes it all feel like slop: heartless and designed to be consumed. All of it makes it incredibly hard to maintain my promise to consume more menswear content. Perhaps this is because I am too aware of social media best practices. In any case, it is their (the content creators, I mean) act of opting into this dynamic that makes it clear that their form of participating in social media (and, by extension, menswear) is different from how I engage with the internet— and my clothes.
The sad part is seeing how most menswear creators end up going in that direction. Nearly every menswear enthusiast I met in the past decade has become some sort of influencer; just look at how many people have a Proper Cloth discount code in their contractually obligated post (or posts). I’ll admit that’s hearsay, but there are indeed a handful, all with nicely written copy that seems combed over by an ardent social media manager, or at least are very advertisement-friendly (especially when some posts are whitelisted and turned into actual paid ads). It’s made even worse when menswear content creators adopt a life-coach affectation and start saying, “You too can be like me, you just need to keep posting.”
It all feels like salesy, overly “familiar” MLM-style rhetoric, overly practiced, corpo-friendly LinkedIn-speak posts, and just straight-up paid content encroaching on my hobby of wearing clothes. I get that for creators, this is their job, but that’s entirely why I dislike it. Social media is not where I post or even talk about my job. I already have to deal with Business Talk, KPIs, and optimization in my actual day job. [I am not an influencer, despite how much I love talking about clothing.]Why the fuck do we need to apply optimized best practices to real-life activities, like getting dressed or hosting a party? [Or hell, why do we need to see such posts in the same place where I see my friends’ post engagement pictures?] The answer is plain: contentization is simply the way any online space ends up. This is just how the internet is now, and I’m just being left behind.
That’s fine, though, because, thankfully, I’ve taken every step to ensure that my income, as well as my choice of attire, isn’t predicated on a fickle algorithm—or the sentiments of my audience (whatever they might be). Again, I can’t imagine giving up the reins. Menswear is meant to be personal!
Ugh, I fear that I’ve been way too negative and critical in this blog post. I’ve just always felt so strongly about this stuff! Maybe it’s because I grew up quite isolated and spent most of my time in online spaces (especially when it comes to niche hobbies) that I’ve always striven to make my social media experience as earnest and real as possible. Of course, this has still resulted in its fair share of parasocial problems, but overall, it’s all been pretty positive— especially with how un-optimized this has been. As I’ve said before, I’m just too self-centered for my own good.
And so, I share all this not to say that I or my content is the most “correct”; it’s a valid criticism to say that my blog has no point and that I am too parasocial for my own good. In any case, I refuse to turn my audience, who at this point is either a long-time reader or some rando who somehow found this (in that case, hello!), into some form of stakeholder. My blog and I will continue to exist no matter what. [Yes, I have Patrons for the pod, but we seldom, if at all, follow their suggestions. I firmly believe that our Patrons would be better off burning money.] The point is that there is no point—other than my belief that putting in high levels of intentional effort for no reason whatsoever is fun. It can be a blog, an outfit, a painting, or a fanfare for a fictional wizardy version of beer pong— it’s all about passion and Whimsy.
The more I write about the absurdity of real life while simultaneously looking at other content (not just menswear) with a critical eye, the more I believe that Whimsy has no stakeholders. To me, social media will always be personal, a record of my thoughts, activities, and outfits. It’s about sharing the fun in your life! Having your fun’s entire existence be predicated (or at least heavily impacted) by a group of external people seems awful. I don’t want to yuck anyone’s yum more than I already have with this post’s closing, but I just can’t imagine wanting to do that, to turn my social media into something corporate with entrepreneur-speak fodder.
There’s also the topic of gifted items. While money may not be exchanged for the post, the fact that the item is free is still an awkward, “unrealistic” paradigm. That’s because the item didn’t cost anything; there were no other considerations involved. While this is fine once in a while, especially if it’s a brand or a specific garment you’ve been pining for, angling for constant free things creates a unique relationship with clothes, in that there isn’t one. At least a discount still requires something from you. But when a majority of your wardrobe is gifted, it’s no surprise that you’ll feel dispassionate about clothes and posting. I’ve seen plenty of #personal posts from influencers where they open up about being fatigued with their wardrobe, ultimately leading to closet purges and complete restyles. Worse, there’s the reseller mindset, where they only wear something a couple of times before getting rid of it, or in the case of some big menswear personalities, not at all. How sad and quite unfortunate— but ultimately common among the menswear space.
When I look at my closet, I not only see the monetary cost or the fun story of how I found it (flea find, crazy eBay lowball, a grail), but also the things I gave up for it. Cutting back on a cocktail, coffee, or even a book so I can commission a suit or even nab a fun tie means something. I certainly am not spending beyond my means, but all of it is still a consideration that connects me to the things I decide to own: obviously, clothes, but also books, vinyl, art, and the tchotchkes that adorn my room. That’s why I am very careful about what I purchase and why I love to keep things as long as possible. I refuse to be dispassionate about my wardrobe, let alone everything else in my life.
As always, my ultimate hope is that people are inspired to simply do things for fun, and that you can always be incredibly passionate about menswear and share it with the world—without courting audiences or aspiring to become an influencer. We need fewer flow-team, money-pursuing Content Creators out there. Or at the very least, people should post more regular, non-sponsored, non-hustling things, if only to at least drown out the slop.
I was told recently by someone on MFAD (the male fashion advice Discord) that they did their own “Dress Like Me” party and were utterly impressed by how many people showed up on theme— and even got that user’s style down. There was clearly a lot of effort and care put into this party from everyone involved. I love it. That is exactly what I want more of. The intersection of clothing and life. Being able to share that, whether it’s just documentation (photos) or some sort of reflection, is what the internet should be about.
Maybe I saw more of that instead of having a BBQ for the sake of making content to promote a brand (whether it’s yours or a sponsor), I’d actually enjoy consuming more menswear-related stuff online. Anyway, enough about that. I’ve said my piece— I really just wanted to have a shareable place that finally contained my current thoughts on how corporate and optimized social media is. It’s just funny to have it included in a silly post about Wes Anderson, Nerf, and redoing a cosplay I did as a teenager.
Spending time on this has really just proven to me that this past year (the first of my 30s era) has truly been about Whimsy, expressed through fond reminiscing and silly reduxing of the activities and outfits that have brought me throughout the years. This is a positive thing, as this has been a great opportunity to reflect rather than just an escape from aging. I’ve been very fortunate to return to a few things, whether that’s cosplay gatherings or a literal place like Japan, and to note how much I, as well as the space/community/experience I participate in, have changed. I don’t think this type of thing happens to many people, but I guess that, as someone who likes to be inspired by the past, I’m bound to feel this way often.
And even if it’s a totally new experience (like playing pool in a pool hall), I’m just glad that I’m able to do it with cool, lovely people. Doing it while wearing an absurd but expressive outfit, with no care other than my own happiness and without a sponsor in sight is just a bonus.
– end of blog post –
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Always a pleasure,
Ethan
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a little bit of rest 
