The Metrosexual and The Meteorsexual

Never been a big fan of the word metrosexual, or really the idea. But I guess we should talk about it because Suzy Menkes is.

In her recent NYT article, Menkes puts the final nail in the metrosexual’s proverbial “bisexual-lookin” ass coffin when she basically reads a death oration for the long-since noticeable type. Her acknowledgment of the shift in tides of menswear over the past 20 years is focused on the metrosexual’s influence on the industry. As in, Burberry now offers their classic trench in neon metallics. She notices in streetwear (and predicts in the coming fashion weeks) that the metrosexual look for men is deceased, only to be replaced by it’s opposite: the macho man.

“A sporty, tough-guy style, with a square-cut sweater to emphasize a burly body, biceps and square shoulders, is much more in tune with today. Farewell, Brad Pitt! Hello, Kanye West! The fact that the big, bold tops are quite likely to have as decoration a belligerent bulldog or a majestic buck, antlers to the fore, just enhances the macho image.”

But wait, the opposite of metro isn’t macho.

While I can get on board with the idea that the ultra-manicured male fashion hound (Beckham style) is hardly visible on runways at this point, I don’t find a boxy sweater, a jacquard pant, and thick-rimmed plastic glasses with wet hair to be it’s macho counterpart. (And is Brad Pitt really the ultimate emblem of metro style? That assignment at best blurs Menkes’ argument.) Menswear may have taken a turn toward the abstractly masculine with J.W. Anderson’s one-button, shawl-collared, ponchos and Topman’s tight crops and western fringe situations, and Christopher Kane’s molecular riff on the classic cable-knit, but is there a connection to the metrosexual of yesterday? Do these modern takes on menswear standards take their liberties? I think not.

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Men’s clothing might be in it’s most exciting period in a long time. The guy who likes to dress now has so many options that his best bet is to grab from every bag possible, throw a thousand ideas/eras together (within reason), and come crashing in with a look that can’t actually be described. Intention-less style is coming in like a wrecking ball, a splash, a meteor. A beanie, a logo’d top, box shorts, tights, and a pair of Air Forces seems to have become somewhat of a uniform, at least it seems that way on my walk from the train to my office. How would you describe him? Let me know.

Max Kahn

Max Kahn lives in New York City