Brendon Babenzien and Chris Gibbs have been at this for a while. Now the creative director of J.Crew men's and the owner of Union Los Angeles, respectively, the two started out in the fashion world in the same orbit. In the mid '90s, Babenzien joined the team at venerable—and highly influential—skate brand Supreme. Right around the same time, Gibbs came onto the crew at Union. Downtown New York hotspots that quickly morphed into institutions, both managed by streetwear legend James Jebbia. Inevitably, some hanging out occurred. |
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In 1993, Counting Crows' debut record was the sound of premature disillusionment. How are we supposed to feel about it today? |
| This week, a sheepish headshot of the King of Queens actor resurfaced—and the Internet can't get enough. (Still.) |
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We delve into the mind of the rapper and fashion icon as he celebrates being the face of the Feels Like UGG Global Campaign. |
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| It was the first weekend in June, and I was sitting on a bench in the yard with Robert Lee Williams, who has long dreadlocks and a face with sharp features, almost too pretty for prison. He used to be a Blood, now he's looking to be a freelance prison journalist like me. He had recently published his first piece, about losing his friend in prison to a drug overdose, in the Prison Journalism Project. He hung his head, gloomy about the news of the new directive: the New York state prison system, with one stroke of a bureaucratic pen, had instituted an approvals process for creative work — paintings, poetry, feature journalism — so laborious that it would deter the most creative minds in New York prisons. |
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| Five categories, 20 options, one relaxed attitude. |
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| When I used to think of my boarding-school classmate Leon Jacob—before I knew about his convictions, before I learned he was serving a life sentence in a Texas prison—I'd picture him standing in the sunshine outside my dormitory. He was wearing a white polo, so he must've been on his way to golf practice. The sun tinged his dark-blond curls. He looked golden, all swagger and confidence as he shouted up for his sister, who lived in my dorm. Because it was the nineties, and no one had cell phones to communicate, visitors would usually walk into the dorm and ask a resident to go fetch someone. Leon, however, didn't bother. He just yelled from the path outside instead, sure that someone would hear him and do what he wanted. |
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