Bonobos

Here at Bonobos HQ, we would like to observe a moment of silence . . . no, wait, that’s weird. Ok, we would like to take a second to acknowledge the hard work and accomplishments of our designer (and founder) Brian Spaly. We are thrilled with the recent burst of new trousers, including our freshly unveiled line of dress pants (G4, Winstons, Pluperfects) and some other styles that are currently too hot to even mention (they’re coming soon). Brian is the guy behind the guy, and it is only through his fierce alchemy of twill, wool, and corduroy that Bonobos are possible. Without his expertise, there would be nothing but burlap and broken dreams. So, thank you Mr. Spaly. Thank you for your dedication, your hard work, your good taste, and your beautiful, beautiful pants.

That having been said, there is another side to Mr. Spaly that we would be criminally negligent in not addressing: Air Guitar Warrior. You see, when not entangled in a sartorial labyrinth of his own design, Brian loves nothing more than to gnash out a few utterly nasty licks on his invisible ax. No occasion is too formal, no setting too solemn - the beast called Rock and Roll is a demanding mistress, and there are times when the only way to slake her demonic thirst is with a pick-slide across white-hot imaginary frets. Just take a gander at him, clad in his Bonobos, letting the gods of Rock and Roll hear HIS thunder. Can you feel the raw, primal force of his air guitar? Can you make out the air roadies in the background? Can you see them jacking up the air amps, loading up the air kegs and talking to the air groupies about the post-concert air party? Brian can.

pictured above: Brian exercising decorum and good taste at his Great-Aunt Gertrude’s wake

There is electricity in the air . . . a tremor beneath the feet. Like the rib-tingling bass of an approaching storm, or the guns of a far off battle. Something is coming. Can you feel it? No, the circus is not in town. The Harlem Globetrotters are away this week. Something else equally magnificent is occurring this Saturday, between 2PM and 5PM in New York City. A Bonobos trunk show. This event, just like when the video for “Wicked Game” used to come on MTV, is not something you want to miss. And, just like Helena Christensen in said video, it might make your extremities tingle with cathartic joy. The whole gang will be there - Midnight Blue, Mint Julep, and Turq, just to name a few. So come by and try on some pants. Grab a brew from the fridge and double-dip a chip. Make new human friends and pant friends alike, in equal measure. Details below:

Date: Saturday February 9

Time: between 2PM and 5PM

Location: 233 West 14^th Street, Apartment 2R (between 7^th and 8^th Avenues)

Y’all say somethin bout a trunk show? Hot damn! Valerie, get my suitcase. No, not that one, the other’n. The alligator skin. Yes, that one. We’d better get Lucas to tend to them oil wells, cause I’m a-goin to New York City for a trunk show. A Bonobos trunk show. No, they ain’t sellin monkeys, Valerie. Yes, I know you saw that documentary on the monkeys, but these here pants are different and I’m gonna hafta be away from ya for a spell. Valerie, don’t talk crazy, you know that gal meant nothin to me. No, it’s got nothing to do with that gal from Dallas or them monkeys. Valerie! Nuff already! I gotta hit the road, that trunk show is this Satur-dee. Yippee Yee Dawggy!

If you’re in New York City this Saturday, Feb. 9, don’t miss the upcoming Bonobos trunk show. The details are below:

Date: Saturday February 9

Time: between 2PM and 5PM

Location: 233 West 14^th Street, Apartment 2R (between 7^th and 8^th Avenues)

Come early before your size sells out, and tell your friends!

When is a pant more than just a pant? At what point does a trouser transcend its status as mere fraction of a wardrobe, and become instead a terse and definitive declaration of an ideal? I’ll tell you when. At the moment world-class alpaca wool is imbued with a rich, buttery hue, and cut to an all but bespoke tailored fit. This pant is special. Not in the sense that is unique or distinctly pleasing (although it is), because we believe all of our pants to be so. Rather, it is special in the sense that you will never own another pair within the same semantic universe. This trouser takes words like “comfort” and “style,” mills down the pith, and resurrects them in their truest form. This pant requires the definite article. This pant is the standard and exemplar against which all other trousers ought to test their metal. This pant is what it claims to be, and so much more. This pant is not just perfect. It’s Pluperfect.

Pants never sleep. Sure, they lie there, inanimate, static, maybe reaching some strange, lethargic hibernation-state similar to that of resting fish, but they never sleep. The pant business can move fast, and in this business you either lead, follow, or take the afternoon off and cry to your Pantaholics Anonymous sponsor. The quest to deliver the perfect pair of trousers at the perfect hour has driven some men, and women for that matter, over the edge. But there are rare instances when the human spirit triumphs, and the endeavor exists eternally as a testament, nay, a monument, to all that Man dares to accomplish and dream. Such is the story of our pant delivery intern Beatrice Buchholtz* of Stuebenville, Ohio. She arrived only this fall in the Big Apple, with nothing but a suitcase full of hope and a duffel bag bulging with anti-microbial hand sanitizers. She’s no whiz at Excel, and she can’t lint-roll corduroy worth a lick, but she has a big heart, and she never allows a tough pant delivery to break her spirit. No matter how obscure an address, how clandestine a location, she will get the daily delivery of Mint Juleps and G4s to their rightful owners, come rain, sleet, or one-dollar hot dog. Sure, she gets a little flustered at times, but it doesn’t stop her. She simply parks her bike, wipes the frustrated tears from her glasses, and gives herself a moment to calm down. Then it’s off again, slicing the city in two to the hasping rhythm of a greased bicycle chain, laughing into the wind, delivering pants. And mom said she wouldn’t last a day in the big city. Shame on you, Mrs. Buchholtz. Shame on you.

Beatrice during a “Time Out.”

*Disclaimer: Beatrice may or may not actually exist

What is the alpaca? More like who. You see, the alpaca has feelings. He is a shy fellow, banished to the most barren corners of the Andean highlands, where he bleats and moans beneath burning suns and frozen stars. He is lonely, the alpaca. Friends are as scarce as rainclouds on the parched altoplano he calls home. In fact, few have even seen him. The realm he inhabits is one of rocks so thirsty they drink in the mist; lizards that weep tears of blood; Pablo Neruda anthologies discarded by Latin American Studies majors hopelessly lost on their way to Machu Picchu. In this harsh world of sand and sorrow, the venerable alpaca has only one thing to truly call his own – his luxurious coat of exquisite wool, one of the finest on earth. Through pillars of salt and topaz he wears it, the only garment he will ever know. Who would dare steal his fine mantle? Who would dare weave pantalones from his solitude? Who?! Who?!

Lithe builds and jaunty gaits. The time-honored hallmarks of professional soccer players, foreign exchange students, and, yes, men’s fashion! At Bonobos HQ we are very excited to get some ink in this week’s DNR, a leading journal for the men’s fashion industry. See below for a peek at this terrific little snippet about our growing company. It is a real pleasure to get the attention, and to get the word out about Bonobos – pants that look great be ye lithe, lumpy, or somewhere twixt the two.

While I was heading home on the subway one night I looked around the car and thought to myself, why does it look like men are required to wear some combination of blue jeans, khakis, and a blazer? Ok, so in the case of khakis and a blazer it might not be the most professional look to peacock around the office. And jeans are an easy match with that peacock outfit when you head out on the town. But either way, I was ending up feeling bored or like I hadn’t quite finished my college (and post-college) need to shock the town with my wardrobe. Improbably but luckily, this coincided with the first time I bumped into Bonobos proprietor Andy. He and a friend met us at a downtown lounge – Andy in a pair of royal blue cords and Bobby in a pair of neatly tailored white pants with colorful trim – “Pants: Now In Color,” I thought to myself. I was sold.

I picked up three pairs and after a brief run in Manhattan, where I decided I could send the pants out on their own to do the evening’s “work,” it was time to take them on tour. The Shore Club Specials were perfect for New Years Eve in Floripa, where local custom required an all-white ensemble (though the subtle trim on the back pocket gave me a little edge). They were light enough to manage through an oppressively hot South American summer night, but tough enough to endure a Brazilian New Years Eve beach party (I still marvel at what the dry cleaner was able to accomplish). Bonobos’s Mint Juleps attracted just the right amount of attention after a handful of meetings in Las Vegas, without making me look like the hordes of guys pouring out of clubs that probably watched Tyler Durden in Fight Club a few too many times. But my favorites are still the F. Scotts. Maybe because they’re brighter orange than a pumpkin and I start missing Halloween beginning on the first of November. Or maybe because they’re named after the man that penned arguably the best novel ever written. But probably because they feel good and look better.

Thanks, Bonobos, for matching comfort, fit, creativity, and distinction.

- David Levy

If we take pride in just two things here at Bonobos HQ, it’s knowing our customers and being able to do an absolutely nasty earthworm on the dance floor. If we take pride in just one thing, it’s knowing our customers. And we know how important good customer service can be. Let’s be honest – the modern world is a fast-paced, impersonal, post-apocalyptic nightmare. The knowledgeable and compassionate customer service representative of yore has been replaced by an army of metallic-voiced customer service robots from the future, hell-bent on destroying our civilization. They demand, in their heartless robot voices, that we press telephone keys and voice choices, and then they have the unbridled audacity to repeat our options. We hate this, and we imagine you do as well. Here at Bonobos, a human, or possibly a human-like primate, will always respond to your questions and comments as part of our Bonobos Consumer Experience. We will do everything in our power to do so as quickly as possible and as helpfully as possible. Is ‘helpfully’ even a word? We think it is. If you have an issue with your pants, let us know. If you want to learn more about us, give us a holler. If the entertainment is a no-show at your bachelor party, heck, we’ve got balloon animals and a whole lot of helium. We love making pants, and our goal is to have our customers love wearing them with equal ardor. After all, without you, we cannot exist. And without us, well, you’d probably be just fine, but we like to think that your pant wardrobe would be a bit less impressive. Drab, even. And then the robots would have won.

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