What we're looking at is that good. We want to buy everything (a blatant tell of a rich product offering and even better merchandising). During Fred's time at Rugby, we're not sure they did it better at their boutique shop on Bleecker Street. Davis’ merchandising is on that level. What required a team of five Ralph Lauren visual merchandisers, Davis has done with a team of one...
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Caroline Weaver's favorite pencil is a 1950s Eagle Black Warrior. More our words than hers, she technically doesn’t have a favorite, but it’s the pencil she’d resurrect in The World According to Caroline Weaver (probably a book adaptation). It’s a writer’s pencil…the pencil writers put in the hands of their characters who are writers. She has one left. But she's not sweating it...
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On a chilly Tuesday night in the West Village, the dark woods, warm glow, and beat-to-hell Oriental rugs of 390 Bleecker Street are a welcome invitation. Dennis and Lynton greet us, Coggins, Mordechai, Foxley, Darrell, and Brian from inside the diminutive shop. You would never guess the rectangular West Village space was vacant one month ago. From the creaky wooden planked floor to the fireplace stuffed with 19th century hard bound books, Rugby’s haberdashery shop feels anything but new. In fact, all it’s missing is a coat of dust...
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Sunday afternoon at 1158 Howell Mill Road in Atlanta, Georgia, and if the ladies that just opened the Ann Mashburn boutique are exhausted—if the pressure of complementing one of the best, if not the best, mens’ shops in the country that consistently garners praise from the likes of GQ, countless style blogs, and its burgeoning clientele is getting to them, if they feel like they’re going 100 miles an hour from trade shows to shuffling two doors down to their tailors holed up in Sid’s shop—you wouldn’t know it...
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Even though we catch our reflection out of the corner of our eye, we're almost mistaken for what decade it is. The Seth Thomas clock isn’t much help. Newspaper articles and photographs from Gant's manufacturing facilities in New Haven from the 1950s—1970s plaster the walls. We're in the dressing room, modeled after the foreman’s office of Bernard Gant, of the new Gant Rugger shop on Bleecker St. A navy/red striped polo, madras sport shirt and heritage-rich blue oxford pullover haphazardly drape over the office chair. Gary’s silhouette knocks on the door to see how we're doing. He's astute yet nonchalant. He runs off to grab a different size for us.
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He’s not carrying Lacoste going forward (you can get them practically anywhere these days), “I like Fred Perry polos instead,” he says. “You don’t see these as much.”
Immediately Sid comes off as a southern gentleman. “Water? Beer?”
We take Negra Modelos. It’s a welcome escape from the Atlanta heat. He’s impeccably dressed too. Tie slightly askew, no break in his A.P.C jeans and sporting his brogues sock-less. Within minutes we’re talking shop and his sheer knowledge of menswear is impressive. What’s more impressive, he’s a really nice guy...
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