Worn to Death - Michael Smith
Step into the King of Rick Owens' wardrobe and discover what he's wearing to death, his outlook on clothing, and get to know the man behind the fits.
Hi friends!
I’m taking it on myself to start a series, called Worn to Death, about those articles of clothing that – regardless of location, stage of life, activity, etc. – continue to pop up in fashionable people’s wardrobes. This sort of coverage is sorely missed in today’s fashion coverage, with its deluge of ‘shop with me’ videos, hauls, and the ever-hungry maw of the daily-fitpic-industrial-complex crying out for new purchases to satiate the viewer’s demand for the next big thing.
I want this to be a celebration of good, quality clothing and peel back the curtain on staples that may not immediately catch the eye in a full-body fitpic. I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t inspired by Emily Weiss’ Into the Gloss series; this series will feature candid, intimate looks into people’s wardrobes, personalities, and habits through the lens of the clothing they wear the most. I’m hoping that, by celebrating these items of clothing, I can give a different look into the fashion industry. This isn’t about what’s going to end up in thrift stores in six months’ time, but what is inexorable from the wardrobe of a person with a strong sense of style and a good taste.
We’re going to begin with one of, if not the, best friends I’ve ever had the pleasure of making in the fashion industry and my wonderful co-host for the Pair of Kings Podcast: Michael Smith.
Michael Smith wears a lot of Rick Owens. This shouldn’t come as a shock to anybody who’s followed him for more than a couple of minutes on Instagram or TikTok. He’s got a veritable collection — over a hundred pieces by his own count — from the designer, and even more if you include his love of Balenciaga and penchant for the up-and-coming Lac Demure.
Tiktok failed to load.Enable 3rd party cookies or use another browser
I’ve known Michael for over three years now. He loves Rick Owens. It’s rare to see him out and about without at least one item from the designer on at any given time. He’s become the de facto source for Rick Owens content in fashion circles for many newcomers to the space. I’m fairly certain he’s got a number (read: more than one) of one-of-one items, and is followed by Rick’s finsta. Friends tell me, unpromoted, that while they aren’t really fans of Rick normally, Michael wears it in such a way that makes it accessible, attractive, and fun. I don’t think Rick himself could find himself a better representative.
Modern designers find success in selling authenticity; see the explosion of pre-worn-in bags shown on the runway during Paris Fashion Week, pre-distressed denim, or Bode’s revolting $1,600 ‘senior cord jackets’ covered in illustrations from teams of professional artists and not by one’s friends. This is why I decided to start this series with Michael. One of my earliest memories was him giving me shit about not wearing my clothes enough and being too precious about trying to keep them pristine. He will unapologetically — and rightfully! — wear his clothes hard as shit because they are, at the end of the day, just clothes. He’s always in the thick of a party, dancing, jumping, and encouraging others to do the same while dressed in clothes that would make a stylist salivate. While it’s fun to have clothes that look perfect, it’s even more fun to wear clothes with character.
I’d like to make it clear now (and will repeat this through the article) that Michael cares deeply about his clothing. He’s taught me about how to properly mend clothing, is quick with a recommendation for a tailor, and swaps the soles on his shoes in his backyard. I could write about Michael and his recent pickups — go to his Instagram, he’s good about showing them — his aptitude at finding his grails, but I’d rather focus on what’s truly fashionable: the unsung heroes of a wardrobe. What does Michael Smith wear? What are the pieces in his wardrobe that, through loving care and a stalwart commitment to repair what he owns, will be worn to death?
It’s easy to get Michael talking about something he’s passionate about. When I described what I had in mind for this series, he didn’t have to think too hard before he started pulling pieces from an overstuffed wardrobe. First, he dug into an overstuffed dresser and pulled out two shirts. “These were the first Rick things I really bought,” he describes, holding up a tank top and shirt that look less like shirts and more like cherished security blankets.
Depending on cut, season, and material, prices for these shirts range — for those curious — from ~$250 to $400+. Michael remembers buying his first two items (the tank and the shirt) from a still-operating eBay seller for $30. “They came with me from Arizona,” Michael recounts, “They’re almost too delicate to wear now, but I definitely have an attachment to them, and won’t throw them away. I don’t feel strong emotions when I look at them, per se, but I do associate specific memories with certain holes or distressing.”
Michael also pulled out the first black long sleeve — one of many in his collection — he purchased from Rick; the last thing he bought in Arizona. Rick longsleeves retail for ~$400. Michael got his on The Real Real for $50. “I wear [this one] less now that it’s got a hole in the elbow,” he explains. Strangely, Michael’s wear pattern favors this right-elbow distressing despite him being a lefty. When asked if this longsleeve would be retired in the same way as the tank and the shirt, he shook his head. “The replacements just aren’t there yet.”
The last top that Michael showed me was an off-white (the color, everyone, not the brand) wool sweater. “A friend who worked at the Rick store found it in the back room, chewed by moths. They were going to get rid of it, but he thought I’d like it.” The friend clearly knows Michael well. The sweater is peppered with small pinholes in the fabric, which Michael added to over years of wear: there are now gaping holes at the elbows and wrist.
Some of the wear patterns across the tops are what I’ve come to expect with his outfits and what I believe make his outfits feel so authentic. Hems are almost never intact. Thumbs are popped through the shredded remains of cuffs. There’s almost always some sort of distressing around the chest or the beltline, where Michael’s accessories grind against the delicate gauze weaves, cotton jersey, or silk-blend fabrics that are common in Rick shirts. “I wouldn’t get rid of any of [these pieces]. It seems silly to sell something like [these shirts] to someone. I’ve got five or six tops that are unwearable at this point.” These ‘dangly bits’, as I’m choosing to call them, give Michael’s outfits so much more character than the Rick you see on celebrities, which are often too perfect and feel inauthentic. You could buy everything Michael wears, but you’ll never be able to replicate the wear patterns that make the clothing his.
Another piece that Michael pulled was a blistered lamb leather jacket. “It’s one of the most expensive things I’ve ever bought. I flipped the Kanye Vet (Vetements, for those not in the loop) hoodie for it. Today, I sorta wish I’d kept the Vet hoodie. I don’t wear it much — can’t wear it much — because of the lining.” He demonstrates by sticking his hand clear through the inside pocket and wiggling his fingers.
The wear on the jacket is a veritable treasure trove if you’re a fan of worn-in, authentically distressed clothing (as I am!). The insides of the sleeves are barely held together by the symmetrical threads emblematic of a degrading lining. The left elbow bulges, asymmetric, stretched from years of movement and dominant arm activities. The blistered lamb, as blistered lamb is prone to do, has worn into a craggy, rugged, textured surface. It’s a beautiful jacket.
He’s also one of New York City’s masters of heelbite. Kapital Okabellbo jeans (which retail for $400) that are about two years old sport tails that flap as Michael walks. This isn’t to say that he doesn’t know about tailoring — he’s a former self-described “menswear guy” — but rather chooses to wear his jeans that way.
One of my favorite things about Michael is how intentional all of the distressing seems, even if he can’t (or doesn’t) control it perfectly. As previously mentioned, he knows how to repair things. His clothing feels authentic. He clearly respects what he’s bought and values everything in his collection. You can’t walk through his space and not notice the expansive wall of shoes, a bona fide treasure trove of ‘archive’ footwear for both men and women (he shares the wall with his girlfriend Fiona). All of Michael’s footwear is scuffed, dented, and yellowed, yet lovingly so, like a childhood stuffed animal with a matted arm from the continued clutch of an owner.
Soles on a pair of Ramones are restitched. Pads on a pair of runners (I think I’ve got that right) are glued down. The lining on yet another pair of Ramones sports battle scars from Michael driving a needle through the thickest part of the fabric to keep the shoe from falling apart. A pair of leather boots (now I’m forgetting the names of things) used to be black. Now you can see the orange wearing through.
This is Michael as I know him: tender, caring, goofy, passionate, and steadfast in his love and appreciation for what he cares for. There’s a deep-seated appreciation and respect for the things he owns, wears, and maintains, but absolutely zero hesitation to participate in a bit or climb on top of a streetlight. The seemingly infinite combinations of Rick, in the best way, serve Michael; they convey his personality and are subsumed into him as a person rather than the opposite.
I don’t think someone should or can ever be defined by the clothing that they wear — to do so would be reductive — but I think that Michael makes it easy to discern who he is from what he wears. I’ve seen him snag shirts. I’ve watched him cartwheel in almost a dozen pairs of pants. He’s alarmingly quick to agree to be hoisted on my shoulders, stand on my back, or be swung around like a proto-goth sack of potatoes. I know Michael cares about the clothing he wears and the way he looks, but he doesn’t let the clothing dictate how he lives his life.
This is the crux of why I respect Michael’s approach to fashion. He’s a person first, a personality second, and a mannequin last. I think we can all learn something from Michael and the way he chooses to wear his clothes. Wear things hard. Appreciate the whimsical nature of life and do cartwheels. Refuse the influence of something as silly as a price tag or the rarity of an item prevent you from being yourself. Look cool, but don’t sacrifice anything to do it. And, while there’s always a replacement or a patch for an article of clothing, remember that there’s no replacing a moment in time.
Great summary paragraph to tie everything down Sol. Also a great interview of Michael and his girlfriend: https://youtu.be/SeNVb5BEQ3s?si=ZpQiHC8as0Bi1NmR