As the year draws to a close, things are winding down around the world, but we’re still up and at ‘em everyday here at The Hundreds. Didier Cohen‘s back in town from gracing Australia with his devilish good looks and devilishly tight pants.
Glen and Anwar are REAL RSWD.
Nick Diamond on the corner of Fairfax and Rosewood:
$$$treetwear.
by bobbyhundreds
The Watts Towers are one of L.A.’s rare freestanding historical monuments. Built by the hands of an Italian immigrant named Simon Rodia between the years of 1921 and 1954, the spiraling castles are wrought of cement and steel rods and decorated with found materials like glass shards and porcelain. Rodia took what others considered to be trash and converted them to beautiful accents on his art project. Over the last half-century, the mortar cathedrals have come to embody the spirit and culture of Los Angeles, withstanding earthquakes, the Watts Riots, vandalism, and the city itself who tried to demolish it before the community stepped in.
There’s a cool little museum adjacent to the towers as well, but we were pretty unimpressed by the staff who seemed to be rehearsed in a lot of misinformation and factual errors regarding the Watts Towers. Oh well. Watt can you do.
by bobbyhundreds
This may very well be the greatest The Hundreds story, never told.
__________________________
As many of you already know, The Hundreds was conceived while Ben and I were law students. Maybe it’s not the coolest chapter of The Hundreds’ history, and you probably don’t wanna believe that your favorite Streetwear brand was formulated by lawyers, but it’s true. For years leading up to law school, I freelanced for magazines: writing, contributing art and design, my photography… but then 9/11′s toll on print media left me desperate for a stable career, one with which I could keep up my creative endeavors after-hours and still collect a steady check to fund my dreams.
Friends suggested I consider being a lawyer — After all, I liked writing (and arguing). But the reasons I enrolled were political activism and social work, something I held close to my heart, and so I entered law school with the firm intent of championing the voice of the people and dismantling the system from within. It was 2002.
To everyone’s surprise, ESPECIALLY mine, I finished my first year of school near the top of my class. So I landed a swanky summer internship, working for a judge in Los Angeles Superior Court and a veteran research attorney by the name of Abram Edelman. Abe, as he introduced himself, was universally revered in the L.A. legal community for a couple reasons. One, he was a verified genius. Like, MENSA genius. He literally memorized the library, so if I ever needed help with a case, he’d close his eyes, walk alongside the shelves, and run his palms across the spines of century-old books until he “sensed” the right one — Arbitrarily flip open to the 894th page, thump a finger down on the third line, and declare, “Right there. That’s your answer.”
But everyone in the courthouse also knew about Abe for something else. The great Abe Edelman had finally faced a problem he couldn’t solve: Abe Edelman was dying of cancer. At 48 years old, Abe looked a day shy of 80. He had long since shed a power suit and tie, instead donning loose, dirtied sweats to cloak his colostomy bag and other medical apparatus. He was bloated and awkward, a side-effect of treatment, and labored under heavy breathing if we walked anywhere beyond the building’s perimeter. His face was discolored and obscured by a liquor store baseball cap and the foliage of a graying beard worthy of ZZ Top. If you didn’t know of his condition, you’d pass him off as a homeless vagabond. Abe, the smartest man in the zipcode.
He was dryly arrogant and prideful. All the average-brained people in the world irritated his daily existence, but he’d graciously accomodate their debility. As he succumbed more and more to the illness, his patience with the world wore thinner still. Sometimes I’d catch him on breaks slumped into the hallway’s long wooden bench, staring vacantly through the wall in front of him; he was already seeing beyond.
Thankfully, that summer of 2003, Abe put up with me. We’d talk about work, but we’d also discuss weekends and women, and he’d recount the most disturbingly hilarious stories (remind me to tell you the one about finding quarters in his bathtub). Soon enough I was divulging my plans for a project I had started with a friend, whereby we’d be putting my art onto t-shirts and backing up their stories online. It was to be called “The Hundreds.” Abe loved it, and everyday he’d steal glances at my notebook as I doodled graphic concepts or rough logos. He didn’t ask me too much about The Hundreds, I think he understood how madly the ideas were fomenting in my mind and he didn’t want to interfere. He let me do my thing.
The close of the summer also meant the end of my internship so on my final day of work in September, Abe called me outside to take our familiar position on the bench one last time. He asked me how the experience went. ”Good. Fine. Awesome.” And if I had learned anything. “Totally. A lot. Crazy.” Abe then congratulated me on my work, lavishing praise, that I was one of the brightest interns he’d ever worked with and that I had a promising future ahead of me as a lawyer.
He looked upwards and said, “Bobby, you’re gonna have it all, man! The cars, the houses, the girls. You’re about to make a TON of money…”
“Awesome. Totally! Crazy!!,” I could only muster, as visions of dollar signs and Maseratis danced through my head.
Then Abe drew a deep breath, returned his gaze to me, and with a bold tone, proclaimed, “…but you should NEVER be an attorney.”
This is me being stunned. Wait. What?
“Bobby. Look at me,” he motioned to the alien fixtures surgically bound to his waist, “I’m 40 years old, man, and I’m gonna die.” Tears welled up, not out of sadness, but anger. Abe was pissed. This cancer was robbing him of a perfectly good life, without explanation and without prejudice. ”Do you want to die at 40 and realize you spent your life doing something you weren’t passionate about? At least I can say I did something I cared about and loved. You don’t love being a lawyer. You’re not passionate about this. You’re passionate about The Hundreds. I see it in you, I see how you talk about it, it’s all you ever think about, man. Do The Hundreds. Life’s too short –” and the rest was lost between broken sobs.
The world took on a different light that afternoon, and I haven’t been able to shake it since. From that day forward, I avowed myself to The Hundreds, but more emphatically, to a life of pursuing passion. Ben and I had started this project for fun, as a creative outlet, but now I appreciated it’s significance and potential. There was no turning back, no other option. Abe was counting on me to live a life worth living.
A few months later, Abe’s body surrendered.
But his spirit remains vigilantly alive and at war, everyday, in The Hundreds. Abe. Forever.
by bobbyhundreds
WTC FTW.
Faile up at Houston & Bowery.
Pat in The Hundreds New York:
Rob is the only Kardashian I can keep up with.
Hunger Games foreshadowing.
Veins.
Not the best burger ever, but, like, pretty close.
The Hundreds Design: Head graphic designer Benjie Escobar, cut/sew designer Patrick Hill, and headwear and accessories by Vito Nguyen.
You’ve never seen The Hundreds New York like this. For the first time ever, the scaffolding falls (photo by NA). It’s gonna be a good year:
by bobbyhundreds
Baracka Flacka Flames might be more popular than the real deal these days…
Filmed on Fairfax and Rosewood on the busiest day in Streetwear history. Kinda not joking.
video by Motorcade Music Group
by bobbyhundreds
I’ve been shooting photographs since 1994. Almost every single day of my life, with a camera around my neck, documenting skateboarders and live shows and world travels. To the point where an experience is not complete if not captured through my viewfinder.
But I still have trouble identifying myself as a “Photographer.” Mainly because of how highly I esteem the position and label of “Photographer.” It’s not a title that is taken lightly, it can’t be adopted through the purchase of an expensive digital camera, it’s not bequeathed unto those with a rad Tumblr of “vintage” weirdo shots. I see what it takes, and how very serious and involved it is to be a photographer, and I know I’m not that. I strive to be that, but I’m not quite there yet.
Michael Halsband, on the other hand, IS a Photographer.
Here we are in the darkroom of his New York City photo studio. He’s been working and crafting in this space since he was 23 years old. And now, at 55, he exists symbiotically with his environment — the developer and chemicals and lights and film, they are all an extension of Michael Halsband.
Michael Halsband has gained notoriety for multiple iconic stills, like the Warhol vs. Basquiat boxing portrait, his documentation of the Rolling Stones on tour in the ’80s, and other imagery that have graced the pages of Vanity Fair, GQ, and Time. He is a film photographer; he has nothing against digital, he just sees it as another medium that hasn’t struck a chord with him just yet. But to be with him here, and witness his ritual, speaks immeasurably of the life and organic energy that comes with photography done the old-school way.
Michael states that everything done in the studio is relatively nil compared to the alchemy that transpires in the darkroom. That’s where his passion lies, in the tight spaces of foreign liquids and materializing prints. He works tirelessly to lift shadows from jawlines, unearth light from empty recesses of sunken eyelids, even out scrupulous tones in subjects’ complexions. A little yellow here, a drop in red there, the tussle of midtones — this is Photoshop and Lightroom in the flesh; to understand photography, truly, is to see it from his perspective.
He has probably a hundred cameras stationed around this room, but his secret weapon is this 8 x 10 Deardorff.
Out of production for decades, this camera performs and achieves in ways that modern-day machines can’t. The negatives are singular, huge (the same size as the prints), the body swivels and sways to align with the subject’s natural angles – so that everything falls in focus.
For the past half-decade, Michael Halsband has been consumed with shooting portraits exclusively. He adamantly defends he’s not working on a book, but it’s not a bad idea. The photographer’s captured his closest friends and life’s associates right here in front of the Deardorff – many of them rising from the skate, surf, and music world. Steve Olson was “hanging” in here last week, Mike D, the Gonz, and today he is working with Alex Corporan.
One thing he’s learned over the decades is to work with his subject. So many photographers try to control the situation, and in his earlier years, he was so much more invested and proactive in determining the outcome of a shot. But he has learned to let so much of that go, to engage with the person in front of him and create something fluidly together. Certainly a lesson that can only be learned and appreciated through time and experience.
The setup:
Alex remains poised as Michael adjusts and compensates. The photographer recognizes that it’s as much work for the model as it is for him.
He then grants me access under the cloak to see what he sees.
Followed by a loud pop, the flash illuminates the room, and the photograph is set.
Now it’s time to develop.
by bobbyhundreds
The other night, we held our The Hundreds New York holiday party at 247 Eldridge, in conjunction with our mixtape release with DJ Soul. Thanks to all who came out and made it memorable. THNY.
photography by Alex Corporan
by bobbyhundreds
I know it’s easy to forget with all of these collaborations and free mixtapes and photos of beautiful women, but what we REALLY do here at The Hundreds is make clothing. And by clothing, not just graphic t-shirts and snap-backs, but actual, well-constructed, intensely conceptualized and designed cut-and-sewn apparel goods.
One of our frustrations (okay, maybe just mine) is that our logo, Adam Bomb, can overshadow the rest of the detail and investment we put into our clothing design and production. When all is said and done, we’re still known first and forthright by our wide-eyed mascot, when in reality we have premium denim that’s priced more affordably, and of superior quality, than many upscale jeans brands out there. We have an incredible graphic t-shirt program (I still defend that it’s the best), but then sometimes the consumer overlooks our range of fashion-forward jackets and outerwear, which tend to be mimicked by competitors seasons later.
Over a year ago, Hypebeast approached us with a novel idea – to film a short doc on our cut-and-sew process, something that is rarely addressed or appreciated by the media. It’s kinda like our best-kept secret. Since Hypebeast is centrally located in Hong Kong, and because we are there throughout the year as a design and production base, their camera crew followed us around the open-market for fabrics in Sham Shui Po.
A couple of disclaimers here:
1. This was filmed back in January! Sorry for the delay.
2. The video gives the impression that all of the fabrics we utilize are sourced from the open market. This is not the case, we custom yarn-dye our own plaids, etc. It just happened to be the day that we were perusing the market to fill in some holes in the line with substitute textiles. The market provides a colorful backdrop to the doc also.
3. I don’t know why I was wearing a white t-shirt. I never wear white t-shirts. I hate the way I look in a white t-shirt. I hate the way I look.
video by HBTV
by bobbyhundreds
So let’s start at the top. When it comes to New York, can I boast of any stronger crew, and accordingly, store?
The Hundreds New York:
We’ve just recently tweaked a few design details in the space. Hope you guys dig it.
John Varvatos in the space formerly known as CBGB’s:
This is my first time over at Nike Bowery Stadium.
Didn’t know Dean worked here. He explained the concept of the space; he’s part of the elite crew that custom makes each Destroyer jacket downstairs.
The Destroyer can cost a pretty penny, but it might be worth the amount of labor and creativity that goes into each piece.
Staple still has some of the smartest graphic t-shirts on the market.
And also got to check out the new Carhartt Work In Progress store in New York. I never thought I’d see the day that the American Carhartt would let Carhartt Europe penetrate back onto home turf, but I guess it’s a very technical and strategic agreement that’s been worked out between the two separate entities. Carhartt, as you know, is a time-tested American workwear brand. Their European counterpart takes it up another notch on a more sophisticated, sleeker, Streetwear level, and of course, pricier. Anyways, there’s now a brick-and-mortar location in New York City:
Kyle bugging out on my iPhone fisheye:
Black Scale‘s taking over the streets of NY. Their joint retail front with SSUR is one of the city’s cornerstones now.
Saturdays NYC‘s entire shop, I think, is now racked with their own in-house label. So much quality cut-n-sew, I’m pretty impressed.
And their Head Porter collaboration is super cool.
by bobbyhundreds
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