Bonobos

Customer service is a state of mind. Let me explain:

I’ve been a New Yorker for six weeks, exactly as long as I’ve been on the Bonobos team. But it took me over a month to find an apartment (I played “musical couches” in the meantime), so even though I’ve settled into certain very New York behaviors—jaywalking with impunity, etc.—I’m still more or less unpacking. I’m still, more or less, a total newbie.

So, last week, when my dearest friend in the whole world (and a beacon of style in her own right) asked if I would accompany her to La Gioconda at the Metropolitan Opera in 48 hours, my mind began to race faster and louder than the cabs shooting up Sixth Avenue at 8:58 in the morning. Most of my clothes are still sequestered in boxes—I think I’ve only got jeans and my capertons—can I wear Doc Martens to the Met?—of course I can’t, what the hell am I thinking? WHAT AM I GOING WEAR?

Eventually it became clear to me that even if I managed to unpack and organize my closet in time, I would come up short. I’m not in college anymore. Jeans and a hoodie can no longer be my go-to look, the outfit du jour. (Nor should it be for anyone whose daily schedule doesn’t include a round of ultimate frisbee in the quad or a kegger in the dorms.) That awkward, rumpled, I’m-swimming-in-my-button-down-and-this-tie-used-to-be-my-dad’s approach to formal wear would be, thenceforth, unacceptable. It was time to up my game.

I marched into Bonobos HQ the next day (T-minus 36 hours from my debut at the Met), approached Brian Spaly at his desk, and asked him for help. He’s awesome at putting together a look and often helps the team (and our customers) rock their bonobos as hard as they can. “Invest in a few versatile staples,” he advised—like dark brown loafers and a navy blazer. Look for a good value but don’t skimp on quality. For the most part, labels are unimportant. How much you pay for an item takes a backseat to the fit–you will always look good in clothes that fit, regardless of “who” you are wearing, so let that be your guide. For the Met, he told me not to feel obligated to wear a jacket and tie–a clean and elegant dress shirt or sweater would be fine. It may have a black-tie reputation, but the opera is meant, fundamentally, to be entertainment. Comfort’s got to play a role in the theatergoer’s attire (not to mention that La Gioconda is four hours long).

Back at my desk, I considered the gorgeous black trousers Kevin Kelleher had just picked up from our manufacturer in the garment district, twenty blocks north of our HQ. Kevin’s a Production and Operations ninja here at Bonobos, a former D1 footballer, and the trousers in question–jet black, with a slender, graceful drape–were named in part after his favorite adjective: savage.

Two realizations came at once: 1) I was over-thinking this opera outfit. Brian was right: I didn’t need to reinvent the wheel, just take a clean look and make sure everything fit well; and 2) I was way overdue in using my employee discount. A look began coming together in my head. I made one of the inaugural purchases of the savage, and later that evening I made two more strategic upgrades to my wardrobe: sleek, side-zip dress boots and a crisp, well-fitted dress shirt white as the leblons. I figured I’d top the outfit off with my pinstripe Banana Republic blazer, take it to the next level with a gray silk pocket square, and off I’d go.

The Bonobos team had other plans.

I arrived at HQ the next day, garment bag slung over my arm and pep in my step, to find a luxurious velvet blazer from Theory draped over my chair. It was Spaly’s, and after a quick try-on to confirm that it fit nicely, he offered to lend it to me for the night. It was all I could do to say thanks without drooling on that gorgeous garment.

As afternoon sidled up to evening, I made the transformation: Jeans into savage. Sneakers into sleek laceless boots. T-shirt into snow-white Calvin Klein poplin. My tired-but-workable blazer into a velvet number that blew it out of the water. The only problem: the ensemble had a new weak link. My pale gray pocket square, while sufficient, lacked that certain Bonobos panache. Kevin Kelleher to the rescue–he snatched a swatch of silk from our cutting table, yellow swirled with ecru and gray. Although previously accustomed to leveling running backs trying to find a breakaway, Kevin deftly folded the silk into a bright crescent that would peek out from the velvety depths of the jacket (Insider’s tip: Look for this same silk to line the g6, a charcoal-hued successor to the g5 reminiscent of the g4!)

I had planned to go without a belt–my bonobos fit like a glove, so I certainly didn’t need one to keep them from falling down, and I liked the idea of showing off our custom-made, Italian nickel hardware. But the guys chimed in, recommending a simple black belt to round out the ensemble. Problem: the only one I had with me was an old, wide thing that lived exclusively in the loops of my favorite broken-in jeans. Our offerings, in Italian tie silk, are beautiful, but not necessarily formal wear. Adam Sidney, indie music connossieur and our Director of Operations, frowned beneath his beard. In a single whip-like motion, he removed his shiny black belt and held it out to me. Best of all, before I could get out a single sentimentalized sentence, Sidney sent me on my way with his own style of encouragement: “Go kick some ass!”

I was dressed more properly and maturely than perhaps ever before in my life, and it changed my outlook on the evening. I noticed a new and exciting strength in my stride and comfort in my conversation. Being thoughtfully dressed, I realized, isn’t about looking fly to stroke your ego. It’s about feeling confident and at ease, freeing you to be attentive to the experiences and individuals that shape your daily (and nightly) experience. In a way (and here I go again, sentimentalizing), working in fashion means we’re in the business of affecting human dignity, and that is a responsibility we cannot take lightly. Which brings me back, finally, to customer service.

As I’ve ruminated on that night at the opera, I’ve concluded that the generosity and enthusiasm I experienced from the whole team would be unlikely to exist for me if I worked at a different company. Turns out, when you commit to making customer satisfaction and service your number one priority, you weave into the fabric of your business model an unequivocal tendency for empathy and helpfulness–and that, for its ability to transcend the buyer/seller dynamic, is something special.

Whether you’re a potential first-time customer or our biggest spender, know that we approach your customer service needs with the mindset that it’s our job to worry about you looking good, not yours. We want you to don your bonobos and venture onward, in pursuit and enjoyment of all the world has to offer.

Just because you’re wearing a more traditional trouser doesn’t mean you can’t inject a little Bonobos-brand flirtatiousness and fun into your ensemble. Deciding what to pair with your trousers was a tough enough task before Bonobos came to town and mixed things up with red, orange, green, mint, cerulean, turquoise, pink, and… these.

What about that good old-fashioned staple of youthful sophistication: dark jeans? Brian Spaly (designer; co-founder of Bonobos; and equal parts guerilla fashionisto, fabric ninja, and impossibly eligible bachelor) recently tackled this question for one Bonobos man. He asked Brian about the best shirt and shoe combination for a night on the town in dark jeans, and Brian responded as only he can:

Let’s start with easiest to expert.

Easy: Slim, sleek black loafers (no lace-ups, those are way too Y2K) and a light-colored button-down, untucked, preferably slim-fitting. This is surefire and hip enough to fit in. You can also rock dark brown (espresso) shoes with the same shirt. Just make sure the belt and shoes work well together.

Intermediate: Add a great black blazer–shirt untucked or tucked–just see what looks better in the mirror, as long as the untucked shirt doesn’t show under the blazer you are fine.

Advanced Intermediate: Instead of a button-down, a v-neck lightweight sweater can be great here. Pink, red, lime green, lavender, yellow… any lighter shade–you don’t want to wear black, navy, or other dark colors on top of a dark-wash denim. Shoes to match–but when you go with funky colors you could also add in something clever here like a high-end sneaker that reeks of cool and not of the gym. I’m thinking the canvas John Varvatos Converse-type shoe is hip enough. Add a white/tan/stone-colored blazer (think Trovata) with smooth accents and details and you are set. Things don’t have to match perfectly, but don’t look like a finger painting. Color themes should be consistent; e.g., canvas sneakers look great with a light colored blazer/jacket, but if you are wearing a black blazer I would stick with black loafers.

Advanced: Go funky on the blazer–white with a purple silk pocket square, or zebra/animal print, or shogun-style Japanese satin silk. Pair with velvet tuxedo slippers and red and black striped cashmere socks (maybe available at Paul Smith); the shirt in this case needs to be neutral–think white Theory v-neck or black Armani Eurotrash minimalist. A v-neck is always better with a blazer, but not essential.

Expert: Solid shiny finish gold Pumas and a gold silk Valentino blazer (those are articles in the wardrobes of some of our team members) with a green and gold silk Bonobos belt (to be released soon).

Ninja: Add vintage accessories–WWII officer’s pocket watch plus aviator goggles.

Gameover, Everyone Else Goes Home: Show up with an old fashioned globe scuba helmet (with the portico face window) under one arm and put it on when the seaweed salad arrives. Or smoke a cigarette through the open face window while standing on the banquette of your table at Boucarou.

Hope that helps!

Brian