Do you remember Liam and Patsy? Oasis v. Blur? Britpop and Cool Britannia? If so, you may be curious to know what aging musician Liam Gallagher's been up to: trying his mightiest to ride the 90s nostalgia wave all the way to the bank. Not that we can blame him!
Pretty Green, the label the infamous Oasis frontman has spent months
hyping working on, finally went online this morning — and, despite a cumbersome registration-required website, stultifyingly average design, and the ostensible problem of trying to sell cotton scarves for $90, the whole lot is sold out already. But that doesn't mean you can't still look and learn from the rowdier Gallagher brother's branding acumen!
Liam may claim "It's not shite, it's good... buy it you fuckers!", but we balk at paying £40 (around $65) for a plain t-shirt. He said he was founding Pretty Green because he, personally, lacked for things to wear. So it bears pointing out that these, his earnest best efforts, bear significant resemblance to, oh, about a million things already on the market.
This £35 ($56) "Cricket Hat" is reversible. Revolutionary!
A crewneck sweater is "Made from the best cotton in the world (17gram Sea Island cotton) this luxurious crew neck knit looks like a lightweight cashmere." Except "Sea Island cotton" is not a regulated term — it's the fashion equivalent of slapping "ALL NATURAL!" on that bag of ToothRotter Cereal™. And this sweatshirt costs a jaw-dropping £95 ($155).
Who knows what compelled Liam to call this unremarkable zipper windbreaker a "Monkey Jacket," or to charge £125 ($200) for it.
Liam's parka costs £245 ($400). "An iconic Parka jacket that captures Liam's classic mod style. Made using a luxurious vintage washed 3-ply cotton." Alternatively, you could buy a real U.S. Army surplus parka — with some nylon mixed in for extra water-repellent value — for $39.99.
Behold the warm-weather scarf that will set you back £55 ($90). It is "A soft, lightweight polka dot scarf made from 100% cotton and expertly hand-printed by Italy's leading scarf producer. Each scarf is of the highest quality and has a tubular construction with unfinished hems giving it a vintage rock and roll feel."
Lies Liam, "I'm not doing it to make money, I'm doing it cause I'm into clothes."
A few months back, I was hanging out with an 18-year-old and his lawyer father when "Wonderwall" came on the radio or the iTunes or whatever little box we were listening to. I recognized it, the lawyer father recognized it, we exchanged a whatever-happened-to-those-guys-they-were-pretty-good kind of smile. The kid looked at us blankly. Though maybe even more than moderately talented and certainly tabloid-interesting in its day, Oasis, apparently, has fallen in with the Macarena, Creed, Jars of Clay, and other undeserving phenoms that came to inexplicable fame in that boring-ass decade that was my childhood, and, like those acts, has utterly failed to trickle down. All the brother-on-brother fighting in the world couldn't keep them relevant once some of us learned to master number agreements, I guess. As far as this kid was concerned, his dad and I were engaged in something antique and faintly embarrassing; we might as well have been bonding over the Backstreet Boys, or lip syncing to "They Did It All For The Nookie." Whereas I think it was just last week that I heard "Boys & Girls" at one of those parties where everyone has a Haircut. Not that that's an endorsement, the DJ was probably born in 1991 and was almost certainly spinning those geezers for ironic kicks, but still.
It's sad watching idols get old.
Photo: "Blue Liam" by Elizabeth Peyton