Engineered Garments

If there’s been a single thread that runs through the last 10 years of men’s clothing, stitched into everything from the lapels of tailored suits to the hems of jeans, it’s authenticity. As dudes, we want our clothing to be well-made, to have a story to tell, to hint to ourselves and our peers that we are legit, the real deal, the truth. No other clothing has done that better than Daiki Suzuki’s Engineered Garments, which artfully deconstructs American sportswear and pieces it back together as a wearable, modern wardrobe.

Since 2004 Suzuki has reimagined workwear, hunt gear, mil-spec, and more high-falutin’ dress of the past (including velvet, cutaway jackets and top hats) as everyday (even workaday) clothing. His designs are perennially rumpled, and his fabric choices rarely crisp. Daiki himself is likely to sport vintage fatigue pants, bulletproof cordovan loafers and a simple plaid workshirt. His designs blow the dust off of vintage and revel in the beauty found in imperfection, expressed in the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi. Wabi-sabi doesn’t translate directly into English or Swedish, but it’s an aesthetic that accepts that all things pass and that nothing is ever perfect. Heavy, huh? Expressed more concretely, it’s stuff that gets better with age.

Engineered Garments, though, is broader than faded denim or a vintage shirt with skewed stitching, and it’s most certainly not a “repro” line. Wear a few of Suzuki’s pieces and soon you’’ll be able to recognize his cuts immediately. Natural-shouldered jackets, creatively placed pockets, vintage details, and exclusive fabrics in unusual, harmonic tones. Comfortable, unconstructed sportcoats in the Ivy tradition; well-made outerwear in anachronistic materials and shapes, like a technical parka made in wool twill, or a western vest done in down-filled, quilted nylon. And utilitarian accessories, like all-cotton canvas packs and fair isle ties. The Engineered Garments story is broad and deep, much like the history of American sportswear Suzuki mines for inspiration. And it’s nearly all manufactured in the legendary garment district of New York City, a small cluster of factories hanging on in midtown Manhattan.