To some, streetwear is defined by poncy teens maxing out their parents’ Amex on roughed-up hoodies that cost as much as a Euro city-break.
But grouping everyone who’s into their clobber as a load of snot-nosed hype beasts misses the mark. With more attainable price points than Gucci and Prada, and celebrity co-signs everywhere, it’s not just spend-happy teens splashing their cash on street-ready gear. If you’ve ever salivated over a medium-priced t-shirt, take it on the chin, boss – it’s you, too.
Like the hyper-luxury fashion houses that came before them, these internationally adored brands come with their own legion of followers. There’s the weird, the wonderful and the odd wanker wearing multi-coloured socks inside a pair of renewed Crocs. Who are you? Follow below, as we run through what your favourite streetwear brand says about you.
Look: You want people to think you’ve trekked up Snowdonia, but the reality is, the only form of exercise you’ve done this past month is two-step around the 24-hour Co-op at Creamfields.
You approach clothes like your love for tech-house. As long as you can go from a motive, to some random’s kitchen, and still look half decent for an Instagram photo you’ll caption “Boss Night 😎”, it’s all happy days.
When did Aries become the go-to garb for yuppies living in viva la Clapton? If you wear Aries, you’ve sort of got your shit together – even if your mum thinks you’re a bit of a wrong’un for walking round in a t-shirt plastered with a star sign that’s not your own.
You’re probably in your mid-30s, clutching onto your youth with print-heavy shirts and wacky trackies. It’s not all pills, thrills and mates’ rates anymore, though. These days, you drown out your coke comedowns by Deliverooing yourself a Joe & The Juice, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to say you’d snitch on your student neighbours for playing their music too loud, either. Here’s to never getting old, ay?
Pinpointing who the Supreme customer is these days is difficult. The OGs who repped the brand pre-Instagram have long denounced the 14-year-olds who turned liking Supreme into a bit of a meme. Now, those very same teens probably laugh at the kids who are skipping school and camping out to buy a load of stuff they won’t wear in three years’ time.
Wherever you find yourself on the Supreme fuckboy food chain, you’re still checking the SupremeLeaks page pre-Thursday drop and still won’t let your girlfriend wear your Kate Moss “holy grail” tee, soooo...
A BATHING APE
You’re either in your mid-thirties and still hooked on Pharrell (in the past you have called him Skateboard P). Or you’re a teenager who hurls abuse at their mum for still cooking them Turkey Dinosaurs when they have 20k followers on the gram. There’s no in between.
You stumbled into Patta’s store blazed on a lad’s holiday to Amsterdam and have been hooked ever since. It’s all about graphic tees and being overly proud about rolling with kingsize OCBs.
Long term Carhartt wearers have grown up a bit recently. No longer are you taking friends on “dates” to Mac DeMarco gigs and using your Instagram profile as a shrine to your sub-par vinyl collection. No. Wearing Carhartt is a hallmark for appreciating good, quality gear.
You have a taste for life’s quieter things. A perfect Friday consists of a mean, home-cooked dinner, pulled from your Mob Kitchen cookbook. After enjoying your complicated meatball sub, you like to crack open a few Beavertown craft beers with the boys, soundtracked by a bit of Four Tet, before chucking on a movie (read: film). God, you really love independent films.
Let the Supreme lot scrap over how rare their box logo hoodies are. If you’re a Palace shopper, you’re just in it for the lols. You don’t have to skate – or pretend you do – to wear Palace. Actually, you’re more inclined to spend 30 quid down at the boozer than sit around Southbank. Life’s too short to be worrying about how much your Gore-Tex anorak costs. You’d much rather sink pints or bun zoots, or both.
Wearing Huf means you’re likely to start your day with a healthy dollop of bassline and have, at one point, contemplated sprinkling MD on your cereal to see if it would give you good morning jaw wobble.
Darkzy is your messiah, Holy Goof your almighty god. Your group chat is chockablock with pill numbers and inside jokes about Macky Gee’s Tour. A Huf tee, gun fingers and baggies full of the good stuff are essential luggage for your mid-week skanks at the dance. Rave on, you absolute nutter.
AIMÉ LEON DORE
With their Yankee caps, varsity jackets and New Balance collabs, Aimé Leon Dore has cultivated a Stateside community. But the vibrations can be felt across the Atlantic, too.
The brand’s post-hipster, nu-American aesthetic make a perfect uniform for the bloke who moved to Hackney Wick for its likeliness to Brooklyn. Y’know, the sort of fella whose mattress is on the floor – despite earning 35k a year – and lives in an eight-man warehouse share simply “for the vibes”?
He’s harmless, really. Except when he says he hates corporate chains but sits in his local, independent coffee shop all day and only buys himself an espresso. Or when he bangs on about his 2016 summer spent clubbing in Berlin, but whenever you go on a group night out, he’s in an Uber by 12AM after spending three hours moaning about how “generic” the tunes are.
FEAR OF GOD
Fear Of God hoodies to Oxford Street are like flies to dog shit. They’re everywhere. Still, that’s not stopping you. You spotted someone from Love Island wearing one of the brand’s Essential jumpers and want to live your ultimate grey-walled Molly-Mae fantasy along with the rest of Fiat-sta-gram.
You give off the vibe that you don’t really care about what you’re wearing, even though the full velour get-up meant you had to sit out of the family trip to the alps this winter. You probably started some sort of fashion degree as well (but dropped out after a semester when you discovered all your essays couldn’t just be rants on how A$AP Rocky is a jawnz god).
Donning a Stüssy tee is usually a marker that you know about fashion, but you’re not really fussed about the ins and outs. Maybe you’re the 50 year-old trawling through Manchester’s Northern Quarter. Maybe you’re the twenty-something annoying young professionals in Soho. Either way – you’re not arsed about who the designer is at Celine, or which brands are showing at Paris Fashion week. You like quality garms, simple as.
You know the Goodhood staff on a first name basis and refuse to get a wash unless you’re using Aesop shower gel.