Project No. 4: Rose City Indigo
How your humble narrator became obsessed with heritage wear and began a sub-career as a C-list denim influencer.
Geez, man, this blog got really churchy over the last few posts. Time to turn it down some notches and talk about…FASHION.
First, some background, which I’ll explain through a timeline of my sartorial experience:
1980-1999 - Low to zero concern about clothes beyond comfort and whether basketball shoes cause me to jump higher. Occasionally get nice stuff from Grandmas or Aunt Coleen or Christmas.
2000 - Issued a heavy-duty heather gray PT shirt by from the US Army. Wear this shirt constantly along with Levi’s and hooded sweatshirts and also sometimes for PT.
2004 - Start dating Mindy, who buys me clothes in a futile effort to make me into a life-sized Ken doll. Stick to PT shirts and jeans unless I’m dressing up.
2006 - During binges of What Not To Wear, Mindy speculates on signing me up to be on the show. Feel insulted. Refuse to submit to Stacey and Clinton’s catty verbal stabbings.
2008 - Get married. 95% of clothing budget goes to Mindy.
2012 - Read an article in Slate about American Giant hoodies, become intrigued by heritage wear and clothes made to last.
2014 - After Mindy’s death, assume 100% control of clothing budget. Set about building a quality wardrobe.
2014-2019 - Develop obsession with clothing, particularly well-made denim.
2020 - Become the sort of person who spends every Friday afternoon on an Instagram Live session with other denim nerds solely to talk about blue jeans.
Which leads us to last summer, when I was playing disc golf at Wallowa Lake with my brother-in-law Phil, probably the only person I know in real life who cares about pants even remotely as much as I do. I told him I wanted to join the Indigo Invitational, a worldwide competition wherein contestants wear one pair of jeans for a year, and the most artfully faded and damaged pants at the end win prizes and the admiration of fellow denimheads.
The problem, I lamented, was that I felt self-conscious turning my Instagram into a series of fade pics, since, again, almost no one I know cares and more than few would find it silly.
“Just make a different account,” Phil said. And that’s when my brainwheels began to whir. Within a few weeks, I launched a new ‘Gram, @rosecityindigo, with the tagline “A chronicle of one Oregonian’s search for the finest 👖 and other well-made material goods.”
This new persona scratched a few itches.
First, it allowed me to post pics of clothes without the shame of being mocked as a fancy-pants (even if the account is fully about fancy pants). Writing is one way I wrestle with my obsessions and vices, and I like to undertake such endeavors without disapproving looks over my shoulder.
Second, it let me practice social media influencing from the ground up. My personal account is private and I plan to keep it that way, but @RoseCityIndigo meant building a readership from scratch. To do so, I got advice from a number of other denim influencers who advised me to focus on my skills and find a niche.
Fortunately, I live in a hotbed of heritage clothing. Outside of Japan, Portland is probably one of the best places in the world for manufacturing well-made apparel. Partly that’s due to Adidas, Columbia Sportswear, and Nike being headquartered here. Besides those giants, the Oregon is also home to: Bridge & Burn, Danner, Dehen Knitting Company (101 years old), Pendleton Woolen Mills (158 years old!), Ginew (only Native American-owned denim company in the world), GreasePoint Workwear, M. Crow, Red Clouds Collective, Ship John, Truman Boot Company, and Wesco Boots (103 years old). I’m probably leaving someone out. Most other regions would be proud to have even one of these companies. So my niches were quality storytelling, the big emotions and ideas around what we wear, and showcasing Oregon-made goods.
Third, the ‘Gram was a low-stakes way to practice photography and my comfort in front of a camera because I get self-conscious and awkward easily. Denimheads love detail shots, so I’m developing an eye for those, and for “fit pics,” I enlisted Lana, who gets paid sweet, sweet cash for each of her photos I post.
Fourth, Rose City Indigo was a way to connect with a global community, an aspect of writing I’ve missed since publishing Burnside Writers Collective all those years ago. It was also a reprieve from the hyper-locality of the COVID era. I love meeting folks who live elsewhere and seeing how they live their lives.
For instance, the most dominant denim dudes live in Southeast Asia, where a whole subculture cruises around on mopeds, endures heavyweight cotton through withering heat and humidity, and sleep in their jeans, all in a quest for ultimate fades. Then there’s my favorite denim company, Naked & Famous Denim, which builds their jeans in Montreal from the weirdest and wildest high-quality Japanese selvedge available (e.g., denim made from milk, or seaweed, or fabric that glows in the dark). Some of my closest denim pals are: Ben, an illustrator in Brooklyn; Bellan, a librarian in Ontario; Evan, a donut connoisseur in New York; and Jameson, a ballet dancer in Los Angeles. That’s just a few of the folks I enjoy, and they’re all immensely encouraging. Through the week, we check in with deals or geek out about stuff like honeycomb fades, slub yarns, and tickers.
Finally, by writing about denim, I think I can make all my clothing purchases tax-deductible. 🤑
Well-made denim is going through a revival in recent years alongside boots, bourbon, sports memorabilia, and records. The quarantine only fanned these flames. It seems to me that a central theme behind these hobbies is longing, nostaligia, that the people who hunt for them are searching for items that last. I’m surprised at how many folks in the heritage wear community built their hobby out of grief. I read a post the other day from from a man who started collecting flannel shirts after his grandfather, who wore them constantly, passed away.
Along these lines, I think Mindy would be pleased with my heightened fashion sense now. And if she was here to tell me so, I would remind her of the time she wanted to send me in for a public skewering on basic cable and she’d be all like, “Sorry, hon. You were right and I was wrong. Between the two of us, you are the true fashion maven.” And I’d be like, “You’re right, Mins. Thank you.”
Anyway, if you’d like to follow along at @RoseCityIndigo on Instagram—even just to judge and tsk—please do! I’m currently focused on fading two particular pairs for the Indigo Invitational and the Indigo Open: the Naked & Famous MiJ7 Yahan Selvedge (jeans dyed almost black that are slooooowly fading to blue) and the Rainbow Core Selvedge, one of the most coveted pairs in the whole Denimverse (they will fade like this). I think there’s some fun writing on there! But that’s because I care a lot about fancy pants.
Your fashion timeline is a gem.