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In the winter of 2013 I came across a very ill jacket that struck me as intriguingly & audaciously unmoored from time… It was a big grizzly fleece, somehow sleek and burly at once, modeled on the archetypal Patagonia / North Face / Marmot style, but cut from soft, sturdy wool the color of midnight, lined with silky cupro, and BUTTRESSED at the backs of the arms with oversize nylon panels. There was something extravagantly unruly about its high-pile wool and chunky silhouette, transforming what was at the time a passé / utilitarian / REI-regs-type garment into an improbable “statement piece.”
I was still living in NYC, where I’m from, but before long I’d be moving to Oakland. The DNA of this jacket drew appealingly from both places — it was the creation of the highly Spyplaney designer Patrik Ervell, a Bay Area native who launched a mad-popping independent New York line, and whose sleek, playful clothes I’d admired since I first saw them on the racks at Opening Ceremony (R.I.P.).
With this jacket, Ervell, who’s about my age, was channeling & riffing on that epochal ‘90s moment when an unlikely sauce-portal opened up between Northern California and NYC, with kids in the latter rocking outdoor gear born in the former…