The Fight Over Chavez 10/08/2011
Posted by Vaughn in Politics, Street Brands.Tags: Chavez Ravine, Fresh Jive, Los Angeles, Los Angeles Dodgers, Politics
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Photo Credit: FreshJive
WHILE LOS ANGELES’S sports fans are anxious over the still unresolved and perpetually ongoing saga of the Frank McCourt divorce and its potential to reap utterly negative consequences upon the franchise, possibly leaving it to Major League Baseball to step in — or owner Frank McCourt having to split the Dodgers in half with his wife — and now with an absolutely deplorable and savage beating of a Giants’ fan, Bryan Stow, leaving him in a coma at the beginning of this baseball season; some in the city are pointing fingers and becoming very critical of just how the Dodgers are being managed off the field of play. It is mostly the uncertainty surrounding the team now and the lack of security in the venerable stadium in recent years, along with “the element” McCourt supposedly attracted through his economical marketing promotions, often involving the sales of beer, and which is presumed to be a culprit in the Stow attack, that the Dodgers franchise now find themselves in a bad way with a segment of its faithful public.
But the McCourt case and even the Stow beating, are a mere pebble compared to the boulder of a problem that the building of now-timeworn and iconic Dodger Stadium was, in order to get the Dodgers here; an event which exposed the racial cleavages between whites and Latinos in the city, in the 1950s, just years after the Zoot Suit Riots. (One can argue that the recent ramping up of security by Dodgers’ management and the Los Angeles Police Department, and their perceived racial profiling of Latino Dodger fans, in particular — one of the team’s courted and stalwart patronages — in response to the most recent controversy, has also shown this, in the aftermath of the Stow incident.)
Prior to Chavez Ravine housing Dodger Stadium, the area was home to a community of mostly Mexican-Americans spread among a conglomeration of three smaller towns by the names of Bishop, La Loma and Palo Verde. The 175 acre tract of land was originally inhabited by 3,800 residents and named after Julian Chavez, the original landowner, and early Los Angeles councilman in the 1800s. Once a parcel tended to by the state government, over time, Chavez Ravine became a neglected area where its inhabitants relied heavily upon each other, and where they created a communal garden, began to hold social functions and essentially produced a de facto ghetto or ethnic enclave, depending on how one wants to parse it. But more importantly, it became a tightly-bound, respectable community. However, as many of these stories go concerning resource-neglected and predominantly minority communities, Chavez’s perception to those on the outside in surrounding Los Angeles, found it to be a less-than desirable blight. This began a move to look to re-develop the swath with 10,000 new units furnished by the 1949 Federal Housing Act.
Through several political machinations to clear the land by a group of local business elite known as Citizens Against Sociable Housing (C.A.S.H.) — that acronym is some kind of irony! — and a grand deceit on part of the local government who promised Chavez’s residents first crack at the new homes being built and also largely recanted a promise of compensations to those who were dislocated; the Ravine became a ward to the city at a bargain-basement price of $1.25 million (a 75 percent discount), but only under the federal government’s required auspice of using it for a “public purpose.” This “public purpose” condition was the byproduct of negotiations by mayor, Norris Poulson, a man essentially elected through the works of C.A.S.H., and who ran on an anti-housing development platform for Chavez Ravine.
The individuals who made up C.A.S.H. had plans for the Ravine all along and to “cake-up,” as we say now, but several failed attempts by the city to do anything with the space made it a nuisance to some in the local government, and a portion of the original homes were cleared to be used for firefighter training, while others were just stripped and sold piece meal at auction. At that point, still unable to find that federally mandated public purpose for the area, Chavez Ravine could have just been handed back to its original community, who were now seen as squatters; to do with it what they once did, and which would meet the federal requirements for its selling. That didn’t happen.
But that was just the beginning, because Brooklyn Dodger owner and legend Walter O’Malley wanted to move West and showed interest in the spot, or at least used it as bargaining chip to have Brooklyn help him build the new stadium he was looking for. And so began a battle with a series of dramatic turns that speaks to the powerful and their flagrant moral abuses of power to make money, with little regard for people, and which is outlined at luminary Los Angeles street wear company’s, FreshJive‘s, blog. Here is an excerpt:
Playing off the needs of both coasts, O’Malley spent much of 1957 considering the idea of staying on the east coast or heading west. Facing mounting pressure from city businesses and politicians to bring the Dodgers to Los Angeles, Mayor Paulson gathered city officials together to begin planning a way to bring the Dodgers to L.A. Considering the legal and financial solutions of the move, Mayor Paulson found that his biggest obstacle lay in the rhetoric of the legalities, as the construction of a stadium did not serve as an “appropriate public purpose” to the citizens of Los Angeles.
After rejecting O’Malley’s proposition to build a new stadium in New York, the Dodger’s owner’s attention turned to Los Angeles. Receiving approval from the National Baseball League to pursue a move to the west coast, Walter O’Malley was given until September 30th, 1957 to make his decision. Amongst mounting pressure from the Los Angeles Times urging city officials to bring baseball to Los Angeles at any cost, The Los Angeles City Council sat down to propose a deal to attract the Dodgers. Crafting what would later be considered a “sweetheart deal” with the Brooklyn Dodgers, the city of Los Angeles offered to trade 300 acres of the Chavez Ravine land, while taking on over $4 million towards the construction and grading of the ravine. In return the Dodgers would trade the 9-acre Wrigley Field property owned by O’Malley, while paying $350,000 in annual property tax. Additionally, the deal called for the Dodgers to maintain a 40-acre public park for 20 years that would become the property of the Dodgers after the duration was over: the small stipulation regarding the 40-acre park serving as a sly political maneuver aimed to make the deal appear as though the agreement served an “appropriate public purpose.”
Needing a two-thirds vote to confirm the deal by midnight of September 30th, a 14 member city council met to decide the fate of Chavez Ravine. Debating throughout the day and into the night, a deal had not been confirmed as the council grew closer to midnight. Eager to conclude the dispute and bring the Dodgers to Los Angeles, Mayor Paulson lied in front of press and media, telegramming the National Baseball League that the council had reached an agreement when in fact they hadn’t. The lie spurred an unexpected series of events. Although facing immense backlash from city council, the National Baseball League extended their deadline two more weeks, allowing O’Malley more time to declare his decision. Taking another week to reach a verdict, the Los Angeles City Council voted in favor of the Chavez Ravine deal in a ten to four vote, officially allowing for the move of the Brooklyn Dodgers to Los Angeles.
Read more of “For the Love of Baseball: The Battle for Chavez Ravine” [Here]
A Rap Session with Rickey Powell 05/24/2011
Posted by Vaughn in Art, Editorial, Global Street Culture, Interviews, Journalism, Media, Street Brands, Youth Culture.Tags: Beastie Boys, Ricky Powell
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Photo Credit: Format Magazine
Editor’s Note:
WRITING has its perks. You get to sit in the corner with your nose in the air and snicker at Joe-Blow-six-pack, a lot of times; whose sense of humor could use a tune-up, sense of art is less than refined, and whose conversation band usually covers only family troubles and the droll of worker-bee life. Basically, they’ve given up on living. Kidding. (Generalizations, here, people, generalizations!)
With writing, you also sometimes get to have your questions answered by cats who’ve lived a colorful life and experienced, participated and contributed in the springing of a subculture that has touched everything from popular culture, fashion, to politics.
I had an opportunity to have the famed music and hip-hop culture photographer, Rickey Powell, answer some of my questions, a couple of years ago, and not knowing exactly what I wanted to ask, these questions (below) are what came to my mind, before I sent them into my very first editor for final approval. Naturally, I asked about basketball — I mean, really, this is not Cracker Jack decoder ring and cipher stuff — and Golden Era hip-hop things.
I believe, it ended up being a fairly good representation of Powell’s iconoclastic streak, particularly when he decides to put Knicks’ owner, James Dolan, on blast. (I wonder what Powell thinks about the additions of STAT and ‘Melo?) Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.
Is there a photograph that you’ve taken, you feel defines your body of work?
Well, that’s a little hard to single out because I think I shot a couple of “classics” from different areans; like my photo of Andy Warhol and Jean Michel Basquiat on their way to that famous, historic duo show at Shafrazi gallery in Soho, in the spring of ‘85 — I was actually hangin’ out with graff’s “Dynamic Duo,” Zephyr and Revolt, when I skedaddled across the street to take the shot, quick-like, (I asked first, of course), and they graciously paused for a moment, and then preceded the mob scene 50-feet behind me — that would contend with being the most definable.
As well as the sleeve shot from the Beastie Boys album Paul’s Boutique, the underwater shot, from the rented house in the Hollywood Hills called “The G Spot” — named after the Grasshoffs, an older married couple whose home it was and who’s closet they [The Beastie Boys] would raid for things such as the “Hey Ladies” video, or to get in the mood for those late-night recording sessions for ‘Boutique.
Oh, one more: Certainly, “Sly,” the Husky I walked for someone in 1985. We — me and Sly — had a great friendship. I loved that dog; loved walking him around the West Village, by the Hudson River. I photographed him in the elevator once, that spring, which was when I actually proclaimed that I was going to get into photography as a serious life long “career,” and I put that image in a lot of my different projects/products.
You were a substitute teacher between legendary hip-hop tours for some time. How did that help with gaining the respect and attention of the kids?
Yes, I was a real-deal certifiable substitute teacher for the N.Y.C. Board of Ed., between 1987 and 1991. It was a good gig for a while, but I retired from it because I can’t work a real job, even one where you can come to work whenever you feel like it, work a six-hour day with two periods off in-between, and basically just let the kids loose in the yard for last period.
Anyway, yeah, I used go on business trips (rap tours) a lot between the years of 1986 and 1988, of different lengths, the most with the Beasties, of course, but then I would get gigs with groups like Run D.M.C., L.L Cool J, Public Enemy , Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, E.P.M.D. and the like, and when I was back home in N.Y, I would sub. Now, of course, I know how subs get abused; I used to do it. But when I walked in with a fresh Adidas suit and bangin’ kicks, the kids were thrown off a bit.
The first thing I would tell them is, “You wanna be cool, we’ll be cool… You wanna act stupid, I can get stupid with you.” Then I would ask/tell the class to come over to the windows, as I would pull slide sheets full of photos of all the biggest rap stars of the day, out of my attache case, hold them up to the window, and the class would start bugging as I would tell them about my adventures/encounters with groupies. One of my hoodies put out by Altamont has a photo of a kid in the Ps.41 schoolyard in 1986, and it’s captioned: “Ricky Powell Street Photography by the ‘Cool Substitute Teacher.’ “
What’s your connection to Lush Life N.Y.C.?
Lush Life is my good buddy, Ryan Sikorski’s, brand. We hang, but sometimes we collaborate; like he’ll put an image of mine on a product of his like a skateboard, t-shirt and even coffee mugs. We got some cool shit coming later this year and next. He also helps mediate some of my business matters, like a big trip I have in Japan in, like, mid-October; we’re taking my “Illy Funksters” exhibit that was just up at MILK Gallery in N.Y. He’s bringing his girl DJ Elle, and I’m bringing my assistant/personal photographer/traveling companion/confidante/and protege Tracey X. I’m looking forward to the trip, they [the Japanese] think I’m Bruce Willis. I don’t know, I just go along with it, maybe I’ll get some free gear, you know…
Do you have a favorite old-school hip-hop record?
That’s another one hard to pin down, but I like KRS-One’s [he actually means Boogie Down Productions] Criminal Minded very much, as well as his next album, what’s the name of that one? [By All Means Necessary.] But, you know, I’m also a little partial to the Raising Hell album by Run Dmc. “Peter Piper” is classic.
As a documenter and, at the time, an unknowing architect of hip-hop culture in media circles, what are your reflections on hip-hop’s path and future?
Well, hip-hop/rap has different eras. I found it interesting in the ’80’s, [early, mid and late]. I liked the Wu-Tang Clan in the early-to-mid ’90’s, but after that I lost interest. It became, “It’s for kids,” to me. I think it’s awful now, has been this whole “New Millennium!” It’s way played out to me, the shit they rap about doesn’t interest me in the least. I’m not intentionally dissin’, but it [the music] speaks for itself. I moved on. I mainly listen to jazz, funk, jazzy funk, funky jazz, rock (from the ’50’s to the ’70’s), blues and the oldies. I love the oldies, doo-wop and what not.
Can you talk a bit about Upper Playground’s The Citrus Report and your involvement in that?
Well I’ve been down with Upper Playground since 2000, and I would do anything for Matt Rivelli, the chief. He’s a solid dude and he’s supported [me] during some of my leanest times, I love him like a family member. So when he had Evan Pricco from Juxtapoz Magazine ask me to write my column for their new online mag called “The Citrus Report,” I was down. I liked the name. I like how my first two installments have been presented. It’s all good with them.
Who was your favorite Knicks’ squad?
My favorite Knicks’ squad? Hmm, that’s a good one. Well, of course, I’m partial to the two (and only) Championship teams from ‘69-’70 and the ‘72-’73 team. The ‘70 team’s starting lineup had Willis Reed, Dave Debusschere, Bill Bradley, Walt Frazier and Dick Barnett. They were dope athletically, but intellectual as well, they loved how they were all from vastly different worlds but gelled, coagulated in such a way, that they were captivating, compelling, riveting.
I was a little [too] young at the time to really understand them, but as I got older I understood. The ‘73 teamed had Earl Monroe in place of the retired Barnett, this was a special squad mainly because of the way Earl “The Pearl” Monroe adjusted his game to coincide with Frazier’s. They worked it beautifully. I was in sixth grade when they won it in the spring of ‘73, and I was all up in that series, ask me anything.
By the way, I interviewed legendary photographer George Kalinsky — the official photographer for Madison Square garden since 1966 — for Interview Magazine earlier this year, it should be out in September/October. It better be. He’s sumthin’ else, I grew up with his pictures on my walls of wherever I lived. It was mesmerizing to look through old programs (game-day magazines) with him and listen to inside anecdotes.
One thing, when the fuck are they going to raise Bernard King’s “30″ to the rafters!?!? Oh, one more thing, owner, James Dolan, is The Duke of Dorks and a fuck’n putz. He’s “The-Thing-That-Won’t-Leave” — even though he knows he’s not wanted [and] hated, I can’t stand that; those types. I recently had a perpetratin’ hag like that removed from an opening I D.J.’d. Some people just can’t take a hint and keep it movin’.
Let us in on with what’s good with Rappin’ with the Rickster?
Rappin’ with the Rickster — which premiered on Manhattan Public Access T.V. in August of 1990 — has gone through several phases over the years. I currently have a 10-minute installment episode on my profile page on MySpace (Ricky Powell). [Since down.] I like to interview people who have been in Greenwich Village for a long time, that’s where I’m going with it, being like a “village historian,” somebody from my crew gotta step up. I’ve got a classic one coming up, it’s still in my mind, but the combination of guests is going to be stimulating [to] viewers.
Visit Ricky Powell’s site [Here]
Staple Spring ’08 05/08/2008
Posted by Vaughn in Editorial, Global Street Culture, Street Brands.comments closed
AT this point I think Staple (STPL) Design — as an entity unto itself — is the leader of high-minded streetwear. There is no equivalent. The difference is subtle, but (oxymoronically) wide. What “STPL” does is tread that fine line between the ostentatious sensibility of the new generation streetwear consumer subculture, and the ever so hard to define and quantify quality of “taste.”
Never overdone, never opportunistic (e.g. capitalizing off of the easy idea: rap lyrics, vapid celebrity culture, the gimmicks of weaponry), the brand just makes sense to me and my understanding of where I thought the subculture would go. While everyone from the kid in the dorm room, to the fully realized design firm like Staple use industry standard software, that is where they all begin but then significantly diverge. The meat is in the concepts and the design, and their respective differences rests in their execution. It is not necessarily difficult to make shirts like “STPL,” since they remain fairly simple, clean and “design” in general is kept to a minimum, but the rub sits in the brand ethic and the consistency of its ideas to it.
“STPL” Spring Delivery Two is hitting retailers (online and brick and mortar) and following its theme for this year, “Education,” the brand brings some clever work to the table from a ”93 ’til Infinity” tee to a return of some of its classics like the “Order of Operations” tee-shirt or mnemonically known as “Please-Excuse-My-Dear-Aunt-Sally” (for anyone who remembers sixth grade pre-algebra). The second delivery of “STPL” Spring, just as delivery one had to a degree, has restored my faith, just a bit. More shots below.
ALIFE, Tokyo 05/03/2008
Posted by Vaughn in Global Street Culture, Street Brands.comments closed
WITH a glut of brands flooding a generally uninspired street market I have become super-selective of the brands I wear and support, whittling it down to just those significantly rooted in cultures of tangible creativity and message (for example: those who support their surrounding area artists and contributing to their own communities). New York is where a majority of these brands have begun or at least partially anchor themselves. And when one thinks of New York independent street culture branding, ALIFE is certainly top-shelf.
According to Piers Fawkes at his trending information site PSFK, the iconic downtown New York brand has opened a Tokyo retail store. Calling the Shibuya district home, ALIFE Tokyo will without a doubt be a hit in the prefecture’s sneaker culture, youth culture and night life center. The new store marks Alife’s fourth location, adding to its roster of two in N.Y.C., one in Vancouver and now the newly-minted, Tokyo.
Beinghunted's Look at WTAPS 04/14/2008
Posted by Vaughn in Editorial, Fashion, Global, Global Street Culture, Street Brands, Youth Culture.comments closed
WTAPS is a Japanese brand that I have come to love over the last year and a half (more than a bit slow to check into the game, I know). And because its availability due to price points and its low supply stateside has been an obstacle for me, I am generally forced to continue to watch the brand from afar and to keep it in mind as a personal reference point. I love WTAPS because of its military, street and work wear orientations that are so well effused through the line, flawlessly incorporating the two main design ethics that have been an important go-to inspiration and motif within the most credible of men’s street fashion lines.
Last year the brand collaborated with Vans for a very popular line of branded Half-Cabs, Eras and Authentics that featured the signature crossbones in patterns on the shoes’ upper mid-panels. Well-known stateside for their collaborations with Stussy, Supeme, and A Bathing Ape, it recently released its first collection of 2008, and unveiled its Web site that featured a lookbook for their spring/summer collection titled “Extreme Prejudice.” Online magazine Beinghunted (BGHD) also features the Web site and lookbook as part of its “Printed Matter” feature.
Read BGHD’s Printed Matter P.1, WTAPS [Here]
Check BGHD’s interview with WTAPS designer [Here]
Check WTAPS [Here]
Run That Coat: Remembering Starter 02/28/2008
Posted by Vaughn in Essay, Global Street Culture, Journalism, Street Brands, Youth Culture.add a comment
FOR many it started with Chuck D and that signature Pirates hat and jacket. Or maybe, If you grew up in the “set”-laden West, your fascination was triggered by the rise of N.W.A., and the images of them dashing through downtown L.A. in matte black snapbacks with the silver embroidery and that “L.A. Kings” shield, shimmering in the sun. Beamed through the flickering images of television tubes whilst draped and displayed upon our favorite microphone fiends during YO!, to the backs and crowns of the local “hustlers,” “bangers,” and “wanabees,” Starter became part of the street uniform in the late ‘80s and on into the ‘90s; that was the badge of honor one had to have to get respect, and eventually became a nationwide youth culture trend. Whether in the ‘burbs or on the block, how Starter came to represent hip-hop’s Golden Age rhyme era, Generation X and Generation Y suburban youth and “heads” around the way; is in many ways traceable to the regionalism that hip-hop presented on the grand scale, and Starter’s ability to link itself to it.
While nationally, during the brand’s reign, big city and tradition-soaked franchises like the Yankees, New York Giants, Chicago Bulls, Atlanta Braves, L.A. Raiders, L.A. Kings, Boston Celtics, and the ‘80s and ‘90s later emergent teams like the San Antonio Spurs, Orlando Magic, Charlotte Hornets and San Jose Sharks, as well as the expansion squads of the professional leagues with their wilder colorways, were among the highest selling pieces; collectively boosted by their stars, the growing cable coverage of the four major sports by a then-fledgling E.S.P.N., their hometowns’ scenes, and the galvanized pride in those areas spurred on by hip-hop and sports fandom; the constant and common denominator was always the signature “S” of Starter and its adjoining star logo.
In the era of Reganomics, economic hard times, the peaking of organized street gangs and rise of the “crack-era hustle” in inner-city America, Starter brought with it a dark side and controversy that discussions on the brand are often marred by. For the media and lay people of the time, Starter was a flash-point that much like British Knight shoes or Air Jordans, was associated with crime and urban blight. Hearing the words “run it” anywhere in America, during the period, probably meant that your life was in danger — if the one hundred plus dollar jacket, thirty-dollar hat or fifty-dollar hoody wasn’t given up.
Beautiful, simple and effectively “visually communicative”; the famous Starter logo linked hip-hop’s young and growing commercial culture to its purchasing and marketing power throughout the United States. Whether in Houston with the powder blue, to honor the hometown squad the Oilers and their man Warren Moon, or in Philly in the form of a satin varsity jacket with the bold white base of a 76ers’ back-patch logo or a hooded trench coat in the green of the hometown Eagles, that evoked a young Randall Cunningham out of the pocket and in a scramble, Starter was selling local pride, in a world where professional sports increasingly became the shared totem for the lack of larger connections in a disconnected urban life.
In the era of Reganomics, economic hard times, the peaking of organized street gangs and rise of the “crack-era hustle” in inner-city America, Starter brought with it a dark side and controversy that discussions on the brand are often marred by. For the media and lay people of the time, Starter was a flash-point that much like British Knight shoes or Air Jordans, was associated with crime and urban blight. Hearing the words “run it” anywhere in America, during the period, probably meant that your life was in danger, if the $100-plus dollar jacket, $30 hat or $50 hoody wasn’t given up.
But Starter was not the only victim of this stigma. The also high-priced Reebok Pumps and Air Jordans were a part of the social cachet triumvirate (Starter coat, Reebok Pumps and Air Jordans) for young, urban America at the time, and with the economy befallen by hard times and even harder streets, where guns quickly became the norm and the easiest way to gain high-ticket urban wear by those left out of the middle class, Starter along with Reebok’s Pump line and Nike’s Air Jordan division, found itself benefiting in the first iterations of the unfortunate phenomena later known as “street cred,” at the end of the ‘90s.
It was a term that ironically labeled the danger associated with the brand, as a selling point. The demand for a Starter coat or hat — due to high pricing points — and its associations to the streets underbelly; was partly what made them so popular. The brand’s coats, hats and hoodies, often splashed with color blocking, large logos, and at times, technical details, made them a hit in the streets and to the rappers who identified themselves with it, which began a symbiosis. The streets loved it and the rappers wore it, all at or about the same time, in an age when there had yet to be a true urban market and mainstream products were co-opted by the subculture. And so, Starter found great fortune that, unfortunately didn’t last.
By the end of the ‘90s the rise of attire specifically targeted toward urban consumers, exclusive team-licensing once reserved for Starter now given to major companies like Adidas, Reebok and Nike, the dip in negative news blips concerning the brand as financial times got better, the rise of similar brands like Pro Player, plus the loss of earnings due to the N.H.L. and M.L.B. lockouts and strikes, and the brand’s own inability to expand into other products to combat its loss of exclusive licensing, led to its ultimate demise in 1999, and it declaring bankruptcy, eventually being bought out for $46 million by another company.
The Starter brand since that time, has found itself in lesser retailers than the ones it once used to populate. But to this day, it is a symbol for many ‘90s revivalists and Golden Age hip-hop era fans, as its iconography finds itself in songs by Common, Kanye West and others, and in homages by upper-tier street brands like Supreme, who are in many ways beneficiaries of the image Starter unexpectedly sold. In late 2007, the brand even approached many independent branded companies geared towards the street-market for exclusive collaborations, once again linking it to a movement of expression, and opening the door for another possible rise.
BKRW’s X-Large Interview 02/18/2008
Posted by Vaughn in Editorial, Global, Global Street Culture, Hip-Hop, Street Brands.add a comment
FROM time-to-time I wear a semi-plaid, light blue, five-panel, gingham pattern hat that has a patch emblazoned across its main panel, above the crown. In script it says “X-Large.” That hat means a lot more to me than my New Eras and even my Supreme caps. Why? Because X-Large was part of the beginning of my understanding of So.Cal. subculture branding. In the years after ’93, after the kids in my middle school stopped rocking the grimy workwear styling of Ben Davis and Dickies and the like, opting for more technical pieces like Helly Hansen and bourgeoisie-marketed lines like Tommy Hill and Nautica; X-Large strived on with the other set of hip-hop kids: The ones who were more likely to listen to the Likwit Crew, ‘Dre, Warren, Snoop and Hieroglyphics.
Not that the kids who moved over to the bourgeoisie hip-hop fashion scene weren’t also listening to those groups, but they were more swept up in the times, easier to track to the rise of the East, once again, in the Mid ’90s with Wu, Nas and Biggie. And so, X-Large, to me, remained a secret; the ultimate insider’s hand shake. It was a dividing line that let me know just how deep one was into the culture of hip-hop. Over the years, X-Large found a robust following in Japan while still keeping it Los Angeles. For that, I will forever respect a brand that is part of mine and streetwear’s foundational pillars.
A Canary in the Coal Mine? 02/08/2008
Posted by Vaughn in Editorial, Global Street Culture, Street Brands.add a comment
WITH the sub-prime mortgage lending crisis, two wars that were funded in a time where taxes were actually cut — as opposed to raised — ridiculously high oil prices for the U.S. market, as a result of the uncertainty generated by those wars, and an incredible trade deficit; it is no wonder that the first signs of an American economy tanking is beginning to rear its ugly head. Proviso: Jeff Staple is not an economist. Staple is a designer, a cool merchant, a blogger, a creative-class type. So what he says on the matter may not mean anything or even imply anything. (However he does deal in, and with big business.)
Staple’s blog To Darrin Hudson recently featured a post about small-time merchants in New York hawking their questionably desirable goods in SoHo’s lower Broadway. For what reason these merchants were selling is unknown. Was it to augment their incomes? Was it just some small event that happened to attract a crowd as one of the blog entries’ commentors implies? Or is it the proverbial canary in the coal mine foreshadowing the already believed impending doom? It is a good question and perhaps a snapshot from the ground-level, beyond the bleak stats that I, an information junkie, and others watching, seem to be bombarded with.
Read Jeff Staple’s entry [Here]
James Bond, Co-Owner of Undefeated, Interview 02/07/2008
Posted by Vaughn in Global Street Culture, Street Brands.add a comment
CERTAIN brands that I love have been a motif on my blog. Primarily Undefeated, Supreme and Staple, are my examples of a true “branding underground” that has managed to not only compete with some of the world’s best and biggest brands while remaining almost unknown, outside of a very small sector of people, and at the same time, have forced bigger companies of a similar ethic to take notice and even work with them.
James Bond, co-owner of Undefeated, is perhaps one of the main reasons why a market like “street culture” reached a tipping-point stateside. Him and partner Eddie Cruz opened a boutique — Undefeated — in 2002 that eventually became part of a three-pronged icon (that includes Stussy and Union) of L.A. urban-youth fashion that has spread internationally. Through an exclusive deal with Jordan Brand to remix the cherished Air Jordan IV, numerous artist collaborations, its fundamental historic and classic sports imagery and staying true to their brand concept, the chain is an ever-expanding empire that seems to only have a perpetually rising trajectory.
Watch a semi-rare interview with James Bond [Here]
2K and Ari Macropolous Team-Up 01/28/2008
Posted by Vaughn in Art, Global Street Culture, Street Brands.add a comment
STARK, black and white photographs on t-shirts have been a trademark of some higher-minded, design conscious clothing companies. Most recently: Staple, Uniqlo, Stussy, Supreme and Estevan Oriol, have featured a shirt or two of this kind in their seasons.
A couple of seasons ago, Supreme did a collaboration with photographer Ari Macropoulos that featured such black and white photography of scenes from the N.Y.C. skate community Macropoulos had documented, and just last year San Franciso’s Huf joined that list of companies who’ve commissioned the man’s shots.
With those two struck off the docket, who else did Ari add to the list? Well, 2K by Gingham, is the latest company to bring Ari’s photography to a shirt. Showcasing some of Macropoulos’ work for the Metropolitan, the 2K by Gingham tees are less available and less-known than those harder to get “Ari pieces” and might be a better alternative.
The shirts are now available [Here]
