FEATURE: JIMMY HOWE
Every morning 9-to-5ers hurry through tube stations crammed with other rushing, over-caffeinated early birds, they run after city buses or bike through honking cars to make it to work on time. Clock in, clock out, sleep, repeat; so is what is expected of day jobbers. The rush hour resembles a sport, yet the uniform we’re asked to wear at the office isn’t really suited for the daily grind of commuting. All too often do we see some lad’s shirt half untucked, turning dark with sweat at spots.
When he moved to Manchester to study fashion, this is something the emerging British designer Jimmy Howe wanted to depict. Drawing inspiration from karoshi (Japan’s fatal social phenomenon where breadwinners die from overwork, literally), his graduate collection consisted of, in part, evocative portraits of knackered men whose outfit, by the end of day, becomes untidy. “It’s nothing new, but society’s inevitable, deep-rooted expectations for men to get a good job and make good money to one day become the provider of their family — or, in the best spirit of capitalism, to always aim for a bigger crib, a flashier car, and on and on — is a respectable path. But it can come with a cost, putting many on the verge of burning out,” Howe tells us.
The designer’s made a classic blue and white striped shirt with an uneven hem, mimicking a businessman who can't be arsed tidying his half-untucked shirt. He’s also tweaked a pair of trousers one of his mates wore whilst lying on the floor, so they would look as though they remained in a fixed “passed out” position when up and about, fighting gravity.
For the sake of blunt practicality, yet with an empathic approach that loosened up the corporate guy’s stiff image, Howe ultimately aimed to propose a uniform that would help these busy men breeze through their commutes. “Not to take anything away from sartorial style and its perfectly measured, tailor-made cuts, but dressed-up menswear hasn’t changed much in generations, and thus, hasn’t necessarily caught up with the reality men now face. Most men’s wardrobes consist of clothes whose designs date from 30, 40 years ago, and when I began looking into it, I realised how limiting some were,” the designer says. “Obviously I think men look great in suits. But I wanted to see if I could turn some menswear staples such as shirts and trousers into actual practical garments.”
By taking cues from sportswear and outer garments, virtually all the looks Howe created would better suit the daily commuter: they’re ones in which you could run in them. Shirts were panelled with deconstructed cycling tops, some of which were matched with a proper windbreaker and tiny running shorts. Another look was a black sports bra worn with a pair of relaxed-fit, commuting trousers. “I wasn’t trying to create completely new pieces or to make something purely abstract. It was more about putting a functional spin on classic garments and exploring them with different fabrics and shapes so they would allow movement,” Howe says. And he succeeded: after the show, someone’s parent came to him saying they could see themselves cycling in his clothes.
As he pursued a master’s at Central Saint Martins, Howe came to realise that what men wear is repressing all sorts of emotions, too. Something which is damaging to not only mental health but also to the planet. “Lots of men suppress their feelings when growing up, because they were told to man up. Add to this a corporate culture and style that are quite rigid and dull. No wonder, then, that so many end up becoming stiff themselves,” says the designer. “Yet, we’re facing a climate crisis, which I personally think can only be resolved through empathy.”
Howe’s solution: caring for them men. “By making clothes in which they feel cosy and essentially cared for, I hope they will treat their surroundings the same,” he says. His MA collection, which was awarded the Grand Prix LVMH Scholarship and the British Fashion Council Scholarship, organically made the transition between his depiction of stressed-out city boys to grown-ups living in sync with nature. It featured reworked coats and technical trousers made from deadstock and surplus fabric material the designer was given by outdoor brands Rab and Montane, a cardigan knitted by an English countryside nan, fun beanies, floral upholstery turned into jackets and vests. Teeny tiny running shorts were back, too, as well as cycling leggings. And although the models were still running full speed, this time around one thing had changed: they were in the forest, climbing trees, doing whatever /
