Pants.
In a world of tyrannical heat and humidity and the lingering threat of mutant Spanish storm systems, the very idea of them seems ridiculous.
Ridiculous like a fox...
Introducing Cadet, an unassuming little house of clean, subtly military-inspired habiliments in the burg of William, now open.
This is how your weekend dresses on its best days. You’ve got your ridiculously lightweight chinos in Hamptons-friendly greens and yellows. Your tuxedo-striped, West Point–inspired shorts. Your daringly short F-18-print swim trunks. And some polka-dotted chambray button-downs and oxfords to bring it all back down to earth.
A little background: a onetime Club Monaco designer and his partner launched the label together a few months back. Then bought a factory in Bushwick and started making everything that you see in this place. Everything except the WWI-era bandoliers and the officer’s helmets that dot the place—those aren’t for sale (it’s fine, your bandolier guy can probably track something down).
Everything else is up for grabs, though, including that devastating TM1985 leather rucksack perched near the front window and those ’60s deadstock acetate sunglasses.
Both great for your “laid-back-but-mysterious hitchhiker” look.
In a world of tyrannical heat and humidity and the lingering threat of mutant Spanish storm systems, the very idea of them seems ridiculous.
Ridiculous like a fox...
Introducing Cadet, an unassuming little house of clean, subtly military-inspired habiliments in the burg of William, now open.
This is how your weekend dresses on its best days. You’ve got your ridiculously lightweight chinos in Hamptons-friendly greens and yellows. Your tuxedo-striped, West Point–inspired shorts. Your daringly short F-18-print swim trunks. And some polka-dotted chambray button-downs and oxfords to bring it all back down to earth.
A little background: a onetime Club Monaco designer and his partner launched the label together a few months back. Then bought a factory in Bushwick and started making everything that you see in this place. Everything except the WWI-era bandoliers and the officer’s helmets that dot the place—those aren’t for sale (it’s fine, your bandolier guy can probably track something down).
Everything else is up for grabs, though, including that devastating TM1985 leather rucksack perched near the front window and those ’60s deadstock acetate sunglasses.
Both great for your “laid-back-but-mysterious hitchhiker” look.
