What say we start getting you dressed for this not-bad-at-all weather...
Behold FOG, a shifting, living wedge of hard-to-find handsomeness, now open in NoHo.
Imagine how James Bond’s off-duty closet might look. A minimalist Eden of Italian button-down shirts and sweaters that look like they grew right out of the sands of Montauk. All shelved on a shape-shifting wall hiding... more of that stuff.
Your summer already exists here. You’ve got lightweight, Tuscan-made sport coats for Hamptons dinners, D.S. Dundee sweaters for moonlit-beach walks. There’s even a few Hawaiian-print shirts for... well, your call. Oh, and soon they’ll do custom boardshorts, which is sort of insane. And sort of wonderful. But mostly insane.
It’ll all go a little something like this. On your left from the Lafayette entrance, you’ve got some deck shoes, boots and classic-rock negatives (for sale) on the wall. To your right: just two humble racks of the aforementioned Italian and Brit splendor, and a case of rustic soaps and sunglasses.
It all seems straightforward. Until the wall above the racks silently pulls out to reveal... secret shelves holding your size of that linen button-down you were eyeing. And that’s when the soap wall slides away to reveal the fitting room.
Never trust a soap wall.
Behold FOG, a shifting, living wedge of hard-to-find handsomeness, now open in NoHo.
Imagine how James Bond’s off-duty closet might look. A minimalist Eden of Italian button-down shirts and sweaters that look like they grew right out of the sands of Montauk. All shelved on a shape-shifting wall hiding... more of that stuff.
Your summer already exists here. You’ve got lightweight, Tuscan-made sport coats for Hamptons dinners, D.S. Dundee sweaters for moonlit-beach walks. There’s even a few Hawaiian-print shirts for... well, your call. Oh, and soon they’ll do custom boardshorts, which is sort of insane. And sort of wonderful. But mostly insane.
It’ll all go a little something like this. On your left from the Lafayette entrance, you’ve got some deck shoes, boots and classic-rock negatives (for sale) on the wall. To your right: just two humble racks of the aforementioned Italian and Brit splendor, and a case of rustic soaps and sunglasses.
It all seems straightforward. Until the wall above the racks silently pulls out to reveal... secret shelves holding your size of that linen button-down you were eyeing. And that’s when the soap wall slides away to reveal the fitting room.
Never trust a soap wall.
