As devotees of the style world, we are fascinated by and celebrate those who have the urge to collect - the obsessives who make gathering garments their pride and joy. We reached out to 7 NYC-based clothing collectors to strip down and share some of their favorite pieces accompanied by an essay from writer Matthew Schnipper assessing the strong pull this fascination has for thread-heads.
The urge to collect is relatively common. Book collectors abound. There are stamp collectors, guitar collectors, record collectors. People hoard Garfield memorabilia, thimbles, autographs, and locks of hair. These collections can be a display of wealth, of taste (or lack thereof) — a symbolic vessel of one’s most erudite interests.
And then some people collect clothing. Like a stamp collector’s album or a book collector’s library, each piece in a clothing collector’s closet is more than an item — it’s a symbol of the journey it took to find it. Years of specialized research, trips to flea markets, and endless eBay saved searches. But what sets a clothing collector’s supply apart from other collections you might find is practicality. It’s a small but important distinction: You can’t cover your bare torso with a rare book.
Another difference between the collector and the enthusiast: compulsion. Imagine them both at a museum. They’re admiring the Van Goghs, the Frankenthallers. They both feel awed by the presence of these great works. But the collector, in addition to his reverence, also feels an itch. He wants the paintings for himself. Collecting is an affliction as much as a hobby, an appendage to appreciation that’s deeper than desire and borders on need.
I see clothing collectors every day. There’s the mother at the playground who pushes her baby son on the swings, always draped in colorful ’90s Jean Paul Gautier. The writer who spends all of his meager paycheck on funky ’80s Commes des Garcons, slowly building a museum. The Amherst grad who, decades after graduation, only wears purple in tribute to her alma mater. There’s Pharrell and his hats. These people have chosen to externalize their inner self, and to do it over and over.
I'm a clothing collector myself, though I got the collecting bug before I got the clothing one, having inherited the former but not the latter. Growing up, my parents would drag my sister and me to antique store after antique store, where we looked for vintage signs, Howdy Doody stuff, sterling silver napkin rings, whatever. I hated this, though I eventually became it.
When I got into music, it was only natural that I began buying records and tapes, filling up idiosyncratic bins with escapist art. I loved hardcore punk, in particular Henry Rollins, the frontman of Black Flag and, after their split in 1986, Rollins Band. I didn’t have much buying power during their heyday, so I never had any of their merch back then. My mom purchased much of what I wore as a tween from the Land’s End catalogue, though I longed for a Rollins Band shirt that featured a lifesize print of Henry’s back tattoo — the words “SEARCH & DESTROY” accompanied by an enormous, flaming sun and a contorted human face with red eyes and sunken cheekbones.
Now, I’ve got some money in my pocket and nostalgia on my mind. As an adult, I’ve spent the last 15 years piecing together a stockpile of Rollins Band merchandise: T-shirts, hats, hoodies, and whatever else I can find. I have what I believe to be a relatively rare black denim jacket with the Rollins Band logo embroidered on the back. It’s honestly pretty ugly, but I can’t imagine getting rid of it. It fits awkwardly, with ballooning sleeves and a high collar. I got it tailored, which helped, if not that much. Still, I wear it, sometimes underneath another jacket to hide the poor fit. No one can see it, but I know it’s there. That’s enough.
I was always sensitive, but never particularly tough. Rollins somehow managed to be both. Like Superman slipping on his suit and cape, I can put on a Rollins shirt and feel like Henry. Does wearing a raggedy, 30-year-old T-shirt with “PART ANIMAL PART MACHINE ” emblazoned on the chest literally make my shoulders broader, my abs more rippling? No. But it puts muscles on my mind, where they are much needed.
I also have my side quests, the collections I have nurtured when the Rollins market is running dry. I have a small pile of shirts featuring animal illustrations by the artist Woody Jackson, the guy who painted the original Ben and Jerry’s cows. I’ve got cows playing basketball, cows in a marching band, and cows arranged as the stars of the American flag. To find them, I troll not just eBay, but Grailed, Etsy, Poshmark, and Mercari, too. Jackson’s signature is on the shirt, but it can be hard to read his last name if you don’t already know who he is. So I search for close alternatives, like “Woody Johnson,” which sometimes yields results. When I’m feeling really desperate for a hit, I’ll type “cow shirt” and look through thousands of listings, hoping to find a spotted diamond in the rough.
For the truly dedicated, the thrill of the hunt can take over your life. It’s easy to acquire more clothes than you can ever possibly wear. It happens quicker than you’d think. When your closet can only fit so many hangers, and the urge to accumulate more does not subside, then what? You stop collecting and you begin offloading. Like me, the people in this photo essay started out as clothing collectors but, as they dug further into their respective burrows, became clothing dealers. For all of them, though, one object is too perfect, too them to sell. Here, they do what collectors do best: show it off.
About our featured collectors:
David Casavant
David Casavant has spent his career collecting some of the rarest pieces from both Raf Simons and Helmut Lang. The list of celebrities and fashion connoisseurs who have come through his showroom doors is too long to list – suffice to say, David’s archive has provided museum-grade pieces for a tremendous number of music videos and photoshoots. David loaned his Shunga Kamasutra jacket to Ye for a holiday party some years back and it hasn’t left his personal inventory since.
Andy Martinez
Collecting for Andy feels more like a passion in the art of obtaining things. A passion he’s had since childhood, which began with a penchant for sneakers and all things fly. A major component in Andy’s practice is not only obtaining these items, but customizing them too – affixing his own vision and identity into relics of inspiration from his past. For some people, items that are collected are often kept unaltered, but for Andy, the beauty and tension lies in the twist. Take his face mask for example. Inspired out of necessity during the pandemic by a need to stay safe, Andy designed this form of PPE with old Nike AF1 uppers.
Gabriel Held
Growing up in New York City, Gabriel Held refined his sense of fashion early. During his enrolment at an NYC private school, second hand garments became a way to out-dress those he couldn’t out spend. Long after graduation, the excuse of never paying full price for fabulous stuck. Gabriel has gone on to curate sought-after selections of garments for the past 11 years. The Gucci jacket has accompanied him throughout his career – his go-to piece for standing next to fashion greats like Dapper Dan, Donatella Versace, or Mr. Manolo Blahnik.
Frank Carson and Melissa Rich
Although Leisure Centre is technically Frank’s business, his girlfriend Melissa, who is also a comedian and writer, has contributed more than her fair share of creative flourish to the inventory. “When I’m shopping for womenswear… I’m kind of shopping for Melissa,” Frank quickly pointed out, “And that’s also at odds with –” “Business,” Melissa finishes for him. Recounting the piece she’d brought to the shoot, Melissa is quick to remind Frank “I waited a respectable amount of time before I shoplifted these Gucci boots from Leisure Centre. I had to be polite for a second, but I knew no one was going to take them because they belonged to me already.” For Frank – the proprietor of vintage clothing store Leisure Centre – his one-piece-to-rule-them-all is the farthest thing from Gucci ankle boots: a vintage Arsenal group stage scarf. “They were very unsuccessful in that campaign… they didn’t make it any further than this. That’s the kind of stuff I like: a little bit quieter. It also kind of makes me look like the pope.”
Olivier Rogers
For Olivier, collecting is a lifestyle. Having grown up in the ‘90s and being inspired by early 2000s fashion and style, collecting became a way of distinguishing himself from the uniformity and noise of current fleeting trends. By bringing back elements of the past and recontextualizing them to fit his current vision, Olivier makes reference to films and television shows from his childhood such as Martin and The Fresh Prince of Belair, citing them as a representation of when style was at its best. The “Olivier Rogers” sweatpants have been a staple offering from his eponymous brand, one that he feels is evergreen because it's the ideal representation of such a quintessential wardrobe element. Casual yet elevated, these sweatpants feature double pleats and looped front pockets that contribute to a silhouette that would make them recognizable even in the absence of brand logo.
Taylor Fimbrez
A quick click-through of the Odd Eye NYC website tells you all you need to know about Taylor’s curatorial taste. Most likely you’ve never heard of most of the things he’s found in his relentless pursuit of the best and quirkiest the design world has to offer. From Jenny Holzer condoms to “Vintage Frozen Moments Orange Juice Pour,” Taylor’s knack for finding the zaniest objects is unmatched. Less zany is his piece for our project: artist Constantin Boym’s Buildings of Disaster – several small scale replicas of infamous buildings or scenes that were the site of widespread media attention or catastrophe.
Ashley 'Big Ash' Williams
Even though Ash’s store Big Ash has been open for about two and a half years, it feels like opening day each time you walk in. The buy for the downtown vintage clothing store, run by Ashley Williams, is a perfect mirror of its eccentric, high-energy owner. Linea Rossa tanks, Walter Van Beirendonck graphic tees, and True Religion jeans fill the racks of the cozy store on Delancey Street. In keeping with her kinetic and if-you-know-you-know sensibility, Ash has hosted personal archive sales from friends and fashion mainstays like Chloë Sevigny and stylist Haley Wollens. Unsurprisingly, her never-for-sale Hermès schoolgirl dress was bought off a friend.
