John Mayer, the guitar virtuoso and Internet savant, also happens to have a bonkers clothing collection that ranges from hypetastic streetwear to hand-dyed Japanese kimonos. So we invited him to transport his archives to an L.A. photo studio, dress himself, and share his sage thoughts about personal style.
I like the 1940s-man look. High-waisted, not at all worked out, a little meek—in the best way—no alpha-male vibes. Sometimes I wish I didn't have a tattoo sleeve. It just doesn't work with a patterned short-sleeve button-up. Kind of kills the fantasy of it being an old picture. Those boots you see? They shine like that because they've been polished with the splashes of a thousand beers. I wore these every day back when I lived (and drank) in New York City, and they're a perfect example of something getting so broken in they emerge a new kind of perfect. These are from 2009, the first version of the Visvim Seven-Hole '73-Folk boot.
What Jerry Lorenzo has done with Fear of God's sixth season is one of my favorite things to happen to artists: a total quantum leap. I just love that at any time, in the middle of a career journey, you can take such a giant step forward that you get a new day one. The older I get, the more I come to realize that's all I'm in search of—the intensity of inspiration that usually comes and goes with your first project. I want it over and over and over again.
You shouldn't let fashion hurt your feelings. If it does, that's a good indicator you're taking it way too seriously. Anybody, at any time, should be allowed to wear whatever they like. Whether it works or not will be for their future self to make peace with. God knows I have a very well-documented history of attempts. Take a hat, for example. Do you know how many hats you have to wear before you find the one that actually works? Wearing bad hats is the only path to a good hat. I'm still trying to fail. I'd like to lose on an outfit one out of every ten times. Means I'm trying. Or I'm not. Did you see how my point just crumbled before me? That's what happens when you try to apply too much thought to fashion.
The boots are 2011, and they're my favorite boots ever made. I had three pairs, in different colorways. The first, I wore the treads out on. The second, I gave to my friend Don Was, who produced an album we were working on. The third, I had to break out last year. What good is keeping something on ice if you're sure you'll wear it down into dust? That's the fun of this. Don't baby your stuff. Wear it. I'd rather see something worn for three years straight than brand-new and with one scuff on the side. A thousand scuffs makes a new kind of smooth. This red suede jacket is one of my favorites. I'm not usually a red guy, but it's done so right in this case. I like to write my name in Sharpie on the labels of pieces I know I'm going to have forever. It's my way of telling myself to make sure to beat it up, because it's staying with me for the whole ride. This one says MAYER on the label, like I might lose it at camp.
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Wearing Fear of God over Visvim is a great way of removing it from its own visual context. I know going head-to-toe FoG isn't for me. It might not be for anyone. FoG pieces are like pictures that come in the frame when you buy them. You're supposed to put your own life inside of them. The more influences you can take in, and the finer you can chop up each one into tiny particles, the better you can re-form your own take on things. I see guitar playing that way. Don't copy the objects—copy the atoms that make up the objects. That doesn't mean I'm not a Visvim completist. I am. But as you'll see, I'm mixing years inside of the same brand as opposed to many brands from this year. The shoes are from 2009. The pants are 2019. I know the model year of each item I have. That's not the kind of mind-set most people have for clothes collecting. But Visvim is different that way. I might be different that way, too.
I'll come clean with you: I'm not exactly sure how a gearhead is supposed to dress in their 40s. Streetwear culture is only now seeing people who were a part of the scene in their 20s enter their 40s and 50s. I think, like all things when it comes to personal style, it's guess and check. This is my best guess at a setup that feels like me but with an eye to the future. The comically oversize Kapital shirt looks normal inside of the robe of the same length. They're sneakers, but they're Fear of God Nikes, which is a brilliant evolution of a basketball shoe that a guy my age can wear. If I had any discipline whatsoever, I would make this my baseline look. But that would be too easy. I'm not looking to win the game by ten points. I'm a buzzer-beater guy.
My many uses for a robe:
- Robe, as directed.
- Blanket/personal tent on an airplane.
- Pillow in the back of an SUV.
- Blanket on a hotel bed.
- Photo background.
Everyone scratches their head about my wearing a robe until they try mine on. Then they understand completely. It's a jacket, but it's more laid-back. It's a tent you can hang out inside of as you go about your day. It's a security blanket of sorts. I still haven't explained it perfectly, because I can't. You just have to try one on that fits you right. Then you want it to take through your day like a companion.
I have an insane appreciation for Acronym, especially how Errolson Hugh has steered his brand's ship over the last ten years. He stays so true to the mission. My interaction with Acronym pieces is a little different. I never talked to Errolson about this, but I think there's like ten percent cosplay in what he creates. These pieces are so architectural that you don't wear them as much as you showcase them. Acronym is the ultimate world-tour wardrobe. The modularity of the pieces makes them a bit like tactical gear, and it can be very motivating to pack up for a tour of Europe as if you're heading into some kind of battle. Which touring very much can be. It's you versus the calendar.
The year 2019 is the year of coziness. Of waving your freak flag high. Ladies and gentlemen, the haters have revealed themselves to be ultimately ineffective. You are free to wear what you please, to sing what you like, and to see what else you can get away with. The only consequence of failure in fashion is that you shrug it off, have a laugh, dig up some more inspiration, and try again tomorrow.
A version of this story originally appeared in the February 2019 issue with the title "John Mayer's Greatest Fits."
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