Should You Wear Just One Brand for the Rest of Your Life?
StyleCommitting yourself to a single designer’s vision, GQ’s Noah Johnson argues, is a perfectly valid way to develop your personal style.By Noah Johnson November 4, 2024Michael Houtz; Getty ImagesSave this storySaveSave this storySaveDo you know this meme? The text reads: “You can only wear one for the rest of your life. Which one?” And the image is a collage of popular brand logos: Supreme, Nike, Chrome Hearts, Kith, Fear of God, Loewe, Louis Vuitton, etc. It’s an early example of the engagement bait that is so prevalent nowadays, an attempt at juicing comments to arouse the algorithm. This one has been around for years, but new versions still crop up regularly. Lately I often see this meme including brands that are only intended to induce rage, like Lululemon or Zara—what kind of psycho would choose those brands over LV?—or brands that I’ve never seen or heard of before, in which case it’s an obvious attempt for some unknown upstart to get traction. Because all great brands started as memes.To be fair, the meme proposes a provocative and irresistible question. Chrome Hearts might seem cool today, but if that’s the only thing you can wear every day for the rest of your life? Nike might be the better bet. More comfortable. But Nike doesn’t make jeans and leather jackets. In which case, Supreme actually makes everything you need for a complete wardrobe. And so on.Read MoreTunnel Fits Have Lost Their WayWith Kyle Kuzma announcing his retirement from serving pregame looks, GQ’s Noah Johnson looks back at the past decade of NBA fashion and how it’s skewed our collective understanding of what constitutes good style.By Noah Johnson But beyond the practical question, the meme reveals just how central brands have been to our perceived quality of life. The question isn’t really about the day in and day out of getting dressed, it’s about what resides deep in your soul. What kind of person are you? It’s a relative of the desert island question: Which one album or film or book would you want to be stranded alone with? Or your last meal on death row—you only get one chance to make the right decision.I also think it speaks to a secret fantasy shared by many brand enthusiasts: Wouldn’t it be sick if you walked into your closet and every single item in there was made by one brand? On every hanger, in every drawer, the shoe rack, right down to the socks. How satisfying would that be? It’s an eternal, aspirational flex for some people. Which is why I think the meme has continued to endure.Whether we like it or not, we’ve all been programmed with a tendency toward brand loyalty. Our entire lives we have had to choose between near-identical products made by different corporations. In many cases, the only way to choose is by forging an affinity for a certain brand. Eventually, those choices begin to embed themselves in your personality, and feel as integral to who you are as, say, your music choices, favorite foods, or religion. When someone says they prefer Pepsi to Coke or vice versa, we can summon a litany of defining characteristics associated with that choice.Putting the meme aside, the central question here is: Would you really want to wear one brand every day for the rest of your life? How about for one year? Or even a month? Is mono-brand dressing a fulfilling approach to style?I tend to be very selective about the brands I wear. This is a position I encourage everyone to take. It comes back to how expensive clothes are and the tremendous impact making them has on the planet and the people that inhabit it. Not that every brand you buy something from has to be some pillar of virtue, but you should be as thoughtful as possible about how you spend your money and what you put on your body. Once you start to do this, you really narrow down the available options. Those remaining options will be different for everyone, naturally, because your criteria and style aren’t the same as mine.Some people like lots of brands. Some people like all the brands. This is a little like being a fan of the entire NFL or NBA and not any one specific team. To me, it is an unfathomable kind of chaos and an unrealistic, superficial connection to the world.For those who are more selective, you might find that there is one brand that really checks all the boxes: You like the way the clothes look, feel, and fit. You identify with the values of the business or designer. You like the vibe and the community. I’ve said it before, but a brand can resonate in deep and unexpected ways, the way a band might. You project yourself onto it. You don’t just listen to the greatest hits, you dabble in the entire catalog. When this happens, you aren’t simply buying a shirt or a pair of pants because you like the way they fit or because they’re comfortable—you’re establishing a kind of existential connection.But like a band, a brand can become boring if you overdo it. You can only listen to the same album so many times on repeat. No one wants to eat the same meal ev
Do you know this meme? The text reads: “You can only wear one for the rest of your life. Which one?” And the image is a collage of popular brand logos: Supreme, Nike, Chrome Hearts, Kith, Fear of God, Loewe, Louis Vuitton, etc. It’s an early example of the engagement bait that is so prevalent nowadays, an attempt at juicing comments to arouse the algorithm. This one has been around for years, but new versions still crop up regularly. Lately I often see this meme including brands that are only intended to induce rage, like Lululemon or Zara—what kind of psycho would choose those brands over LV?—or brands that I’ve never seen or heard of before, in which case it’s an obvious attempt for some unknown upstart to get traction. Because all great brands started as memes.
To be fair, the meme proposes a provocative and irresistible question. Chrome Hearts might seem cool today, but if that’s the only thing you can wear every day for the rest of your life? Nike might be the better bet. More comfortable. But Nike doesn’t make jeans and leather jackets. In which case, Supreme actually makes everything you need for a complete wardrobe. And so on.
With Kyle Kuzma announcing his retirement from serving pregame looks, GQ’s Noah Johnson looks back at the past decade of NBA fashion and how it’s skewed our collective understanding of what constitutes good style.
But beyond the practical question, the meme reveals just how central brands have been to our perceived quality of life. The question isn’t really about the day in and day out of getting dressed, it’s about what resides deep in your soul. What kind of person are you? It’s a relative of the desert island question: Which one album or film or book would you want to be stranded alone with? Or your last meal on death row—you only get one chance to make the right decision.
I also think it speaks to a secret fantasy shared by many brand enthusiasts: Wouldn’t it be sick if you walked into your closet and every single item in there was made by one brand? On every hanger, in every drawer, the shoe rack, right down to the socks. How satisfying would that be? It’s an eternal, aspirational flex for some people. Which is why I think the meme has continued to endure.
Whether we like it or not, we’ve all been programmed with a tendency toward brand loyalty. Our entire lives we have had to choose between near-identical products made by different corporations. In many cases, the only way to choose is by forging an affinity for a certain brand. Eventually, those choices begin to embed themselves in your personality, and feel as integral to who you are as, say, your music choices, favorite foods, or religion. When someone says they prefer Pepsi to Coke or vice versa, we can summon a litany of defining characteristics associated with that choice.
Putting the meme aside, the central question here is: Would you really want to wear one brand every day for the rest of your life? How about for one year? Or even a month? Is mono-brand dressing a fulfilling approach to style?
I tend to be very selective about the brands I wear. This is a position I encourage everyone to take. It comes back to how expensive clothes are and the tremendous impact making them has on the planet and the people that inhabit it. Not that every brand you buy something from has to be some pillar of virtue, but you should be as thoughtful as possible about how you spend your money and what you put on your body. Once you start to do this, you really narrow down the available options. Those remaining options will be different for everyone, naturally, because your criteria and style aren’t the same as mine.
Some people like lots of brands. Some people like all the brands. This is a little like being a fan of the entire NFL or NBA and not any one specific team. To me, it is an unfathomable kind of chaos and an unrealistic, superficial connection to the world.
For those who are more selective, you might find that there is one brand that really checks all the boxes: You like the way the clothes look, feel, and fit. You identify with the values of the business or designer. You like the vibe and the community. I’ve said it before, but a brand can resonate in deep and unexpected ways, the way a band might. You project yourself onto it. You don’t just listen to the greatest hits, you dabble in the entire catalog. When this happens, you aren’t simply buying a shirt or a pair of pants because you like the way they fit or because they’re comfortable—you’re establishing a kind of existential connection.
But like a band, a brand can become boring if you overdo it. You can only listen to the same album so many times on repeat. No one wants to eat the same meal every day for life, even if it is a death-row-caliber meal. In variety we define and refine our taste.
Allow GQ's Noah Johnson to introduce you to A.Presse, Setinn, and the new class of labels shaping the future of men's fashion.
I find that variety in the minutiae of a brand. My wardrobe is about 80% one label: Evan Kinori. There are two reasons for this. (He happens to be a good friend of mine, but that isn’t one of them.) The first is that I’ve always had an inclination to this sort of loyalty. I take my time to find what I think is the best, then I buy and use that thing until I find something better. I will occasionally add a new brand to the mix just to try it out—last year I got a pair of jeans from the rising Japanese label A.Presse, and I like them enough that I’ve started looking at some other pieces.
But I also find it incredibly satisfying to become fluent in a brand’s language, so that each new season or release comes as part of a longer narrative, taking its place in a larger universe rather than a one-off thing. The more familiar with the brand you become, the more satisfying this kind of evolution and development becomes. I’m sure the brands love this kind of loyalty, the ever-desirable return customer. But it also encourages an appreciation for subtleties and details that present themselves over time. Not all brands operate with the kind of depth that makes this approach possible. Many merely reference brands that do. But a designer like Margaret Howell, for instance, has been so good and so consistent for so long (since 1970, to be exact) that her output is the exact opposite of boring, even if the clothes might appear ordinary. Howell isn’t going to dazzle you each season with something radically new, but that’s not what the large and devoted global following she’s amassed wants. What they come back for, time and time again, is to see how she continues to iterate on her established design universe.
I get a lot of shit for my mostly-mono-brand approach. For some reason it really pisses people off. Not because of the way I look, I don’t think, but because it makes me seem snobby and uptight. The truth is just that the very best brands often make clothes that are best complemented by other clothes from that same brand. Rick Owens is like that. Thom Browne. Comme des Garçons. Those are the most extreme examples, but they prove the point. And each of those brands has many, many clients who made the decision to commit without the meme.
