The New York Times-20080124-Loud and Dumb Never Looked Better

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Loud and Dumb Never Looked Better

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IN the summer of 1989, I finally had a fake ID and went out at least five nights a week. (My name was Robert Bruce Macartey, and my birthday was June 4, 1965.) For my new club life, I shelved my floppy teenage knock-arounds and bought mock turtlenecks, striped vests and black rayon tapered-leg trousers from stores like the Le Chateau, Merry-Go-Round and Oak Tree. I wore these clothes while fake-smoking menthols, throwing attitude and dancing to Ofra Haza and Soul II Soul.

As dumb as I probably looked, this was a necessary but widely unacknowledged phase that occurs in most every guy's life: those awkward first attempts to look dressy, usually experienced while going out to big, loud, stupid and smoky clubs with people you will later despise.

The new Marc Ecko Cut & Sew store in Chelsea, stuffed to the gills with trendy garments, brought me back to those days and the half-classy mass-market mall stores of my past. Here, it seems, is where today's young and clubby guy can find relatively inexpensive fancy clothes that will make him feel upscale while he barfs in a bathroom stall after 10 White Russians.

We need more stores like this one: a safe space where a dude who dresses like Turtle from Entourage can try on some clothes that step up his style without going too far and freaking him out.

Being clubby-spiffy these days looks far different from the Technotronic monochrome of my youth. It involves a lot of prints and imagery. Most every garment here is embroidered or silk-screened with leafy brocades and swirling filigree -- the same aesthetic that pervades animated interstitials on MTV. A green thermal is printed with a design reminiscent of Victorian endpaper; a corduroy blazer is covered with a pattern of vines. A short-sleeve guayabera-style shirt is stitched with floral patterns ($44). A blue button-front, with embroidered flowers on one breast and the shirttail has a lovable Night Out in Fort Lee, N.J. look to it ($64). A black track jacket with a purple chevron stripe across the chest seemed shockingly plain until I noticed that it had a faint curlicue design embossed on the surface ($68).

The store is large, the music is emo, the headless mannequins wear blazers over their hoodies; and as you would expect, there is a pubescent fixation with the ladies. The door handle is in the shape of a topless woman, as is the frame around a mirror by the dressing area. A painting of a nude woman-creature with textured skin hangs between the dressing rooms. Huge photo books by David LaChapelle and others are opened on tables. One was opened to a posing, pouty Pink while another displayed a photograph of Hillary Clinton, a presence in a red pantsuit, who single-handedly kept the door handle, painting and mirror frame from seeming misogynistic.

The Cut & Sew line was introduced in 2004, and the Chelsea store opened its doors in September, making it one of the newest additions to the gargantuan urban fashion empire of Marc Ecko Enterprises, which also includes G-Unit, a joint venture with the rapper 50 Cent; Zoo York, a line of action sports-inspired clothing; Complex magazine; and Red, a line for women.

In the mid-'80s, Marc Ecko airbrushed T-shirts and sold them in his parents' garage in New Jersey; he introduced his first men's line in 1993. Now he is so preposterously successful, he has become a kind of hip-hop Willy Wonka. Like the mythical chocolatier, he makes grand, generous, sometimes nutty gestures. He raises money for the International Rhino Federation, backed a 2006 lawsuit against antigraffiti legislation in New York City and created Sweat Equity Enterprises, a nonprofit creative learning program for underserved high school teenagers.

He is also obsessed with Star Wars and somehow wrangled a licensing deal with the franchise. A white T-shirt has a storm trooper head rendered beautifully in little appliqued crystals, while a likeness of Yoda in green dots on a brown T-shirt looks warty and nauseating. Mr. Ecko lovingly explains his fetish in a long paragraph printed on the back inside collar: It's no secret I am a fan of all things Star Wars, it reads. Just when I am getting pop culture fatigue, I watch Star Wars.

As far away as I am from the desired demographic for this store, I found some interesting clothes. One standout, a lined M65 military jacket in a simple, embellishment-free herringbone, was only $115.

A lot of prices are reasonable, in fact. I found an army coat with a shearling hood for $175 and a velvet blazer that was almost on par with one I have from Kenneth Cole, for $135. A lamb's wool hoodie with polyester lining ($88) felt squishy and synthetic, but it looked good enough to be a gift for your nephew or younger brother.

It may strike the passer-by as odd that an urban fashion store has set up shop here, in the middle of one of the gayest blocks in Chelsea, next door to Food Bar and other establishments with rainbow flag decals in their windows. But Chelsea is evolving from being an exclusive gayberhood into more of a cultural and sexual mixing bowl, which could give this store some interesting vibrancy.

Unfortunately, the two times I visited the store, no one was there. It is surprising to me that the Ecko empire, which seems so enmeshed in the hip-hop, graffiti and skateboard scenes, has a store lacking youthful bustle. But maybe that is part of maturity: to try on clothes in a lame, decaffeinated environment.

On the N train, coming home from the store, I saw a group of teenage guys with their girlfriends and skateboards, just a couple years away from their own awkward dressy phases. They slumped in their seats, sharing iPod earphones, wearing grubby camouflage hoodies and bedraggled jeans. They did look comfortable, though.

Marc Ecko Cut & Sew The Merch

147 Eighth Avenue (between 17th and 18th Streets); (212) 206-8351

THE THREADS Snappy hip-hop flavored duds -- printed tees, decorated jackets and emblazoned blazers -- for trendy guys a few years above or below 20 who are just starting to step up their style.

THE SPACE The store is long and deep with product. Emo music wails out of speakers, and workers, sweetly aloof because of their youth, quietly fold garments and give each other relationship advice.

THE NABE Cut & Sew's new digs exemplify the changing face of Chelsea from predominantly gay to urban shopping mall. With its lady-shaped door handle, printed hoodies and rap star swagger, the store is bringing a little 'hood to the gayberhood.

[Illustration]PHOTOS (PHOTOGRAPHS BY JOSH HANER/THE NEW YORK TIMES)