So, you were a skateboarder once. Dressed in a beanie and baggy pants and saying "ollie" and "360" a lot, you'd line up for hours outside Supreme, the cool, cool fashion store on Lafayette Street in downtown Manhattan, because it was "drop day" and you absolutely had to have the latest in the seemingly infinite collaborations with designer brands. You were such a hypebeast.
Twenty-plus years on, life on the "deck" has probably turned into life with a job and family. But, once a skateboarder, always a skateboarder, the adage goes. Above all, a skateboarder's self-expression and fashion style never die.
So, what's a "rad dad" to do?
Head to Noah, of course, a menswear clothing store in Amagansett Square (and Mulberry Street in Manhattan, or Tokyo, London, or Los Angeles) that aims to merge the "rebellious vitality of skate, surf, and music cultures with an innovative appreciation of classic menswear," according to its website.
Founded in 2015 (a relaunch after an unsuccessful earlier one) by a husband and wife, Brendon Babenzien and Estelle Bailey-Babenzien, Noah's ethos encapsulates so much more than simply a grown-up spin on streetwear. Its line includes Scottish lambswool sweaters, a riff on preppy rugby cardigans, cotton sweatshirts from Canada, Italian-tailored blazers, graphic T-shirts, floral corduroy shirts from Portugal, eco-friendly limestone-based neoprene wetsuits made in Japan, and even surfboards shaped in California. Although technically menswear, there's a certain unisex quality to it all -- sort of like women wearing clothes from their boyfriends' closets.
But above all, what Noah really offers is a tantalizing look at what a healthy fashion supply chain could look like -- sourcing textiles from countries and mills with ethical manufacturing practices and being transparent. The company's Instagram feed details labor cost breakdowns and the provenance of fabrics, and Noah promotes conscientious consumption and donates portions of the profits to causes such as human rights, disaster relief, and the environment.
"I just wanted to relaunch Noah and reaffirm our beliefs in what fashion could and should be," said Ms. Bailey-Babenzien, who met her husband about 11 years ago when he was the creative director at Supreme. "Brendon was disillusioned by the hype culture of Supreme. The kids were more interested in just having a piece of clothing and lining up for it for the sake of having it rather than actually being active in the world," she said during a recent Zoom call, her husband by her side. The couple recently bought a house in Springs.
"Yeah, I was at Supreme and it was starting to kind of feel a bit disconnected for me," said Mr. Babenzien. "Even though I grew up in skate and street culture and it's been a big part of my life, I also had all these other interests and other things that I wanted to do. But Supreme wasn't mine so I couldn't really make those high-level decisions. Estelle was definitely instrumental in pushing me to go back to Noah."
Mr. Babenzien focuses on designing the clothes, while his wife handles the interior designs of their stores. Amagansett Square's Hideout, as the store is called, is bright, airy, and vaguely nautical -- sanded floors and shelves suspended by sailboat roping. On the walls, the work of a local artist, Virva Hinnemo, is featured. Deck chairs outside encourage staying awhile. An April 2 reception is planned at the Hideout to celebrate its official opening for the summer.
Mr. Babenzien's streetwear style was forged as a teenager in East Islip, when he worked at his local surf and skate shop. After a brief stint at Gettysburg College in Pennsylvania, where he played lacrosse, he moved to Miami in the early 1990s to help build the highly sought-after clothing brand Pervert, founded by a friend. In the mid-'90s, he landed at Supreme, helping it become the "Chanel of streetwear," as it was known. In May, he was hired by J. Crew, the classic but struggling mall brand, as the creative director for menswear, a role he fulfills in tandem with Noah. His first J. Crew collection will debut later this year.
So, what's not to love about fashion? A lot, actually. The fashion industry accounts for about 8 to 10 percent of global carbon emissions and nearly 20 percent of wastewater. The use of chemicals in the manufacture of textiles poses environmental risks and health hazards for those involved in the industry. Transporting fashion around the world uses up more energy than aviation and shipping combined.
The bottom line is that the fashion industry is wreaking havoc on the planet. Environmental experts have called on the fashion industry to fundamentally change the way it operates by embracing renewable energy and developing new methods for recycling, as well as reducing the use of non-biodegradable fibers.
In 2019, Noah joined the global movement 1% for the Planet and pledges 1 percent of its annual sales to grassroots environmental nonprofits. The company also offers credit for certain used items returned to the store.
"We made them, after all, and we have a lot of love for the things we've made," reads the website. Also on the website is a blog that features the many political and social causes the company supports, from the war in Ukraine to community fridges for those in need. And on Black Friday, that annual retail bonanza, Noah stores are closed.
"Everybody's rethinking the way we consume," said Ms. Bailey-Babenzien. "And the way we consume everything, including all the choices we make about our clothing -- where it's from and how it's made. So, we come in as a solution, if you're going to buy new and you want something cool."
Mr. Babenzien certainly seems to have created a purpose-driven streetwear brand that opens up necessary dialogues and offers collaborations more important than the conjoining of two logos. It's the ultimate expression of his personal interests with a cross-generational appeal.
"A 16-year-old kid and I can have a lot in common. I'm 50 but I still surf. I still skate. I snowboard. I run," he said over Zoom.
Off camera, his young daughter piped in: "You don't surf or skateboard anymore!"
"I don't get to do it as much as I would like to. But when you grow up, I'll be doing it a lot again, young lady," retorted her rad dad.
