It’s 10.49am on a Saturday morning, December 2004, in New York City. At 91 Greene Street in SoHo, a large line stretches around the block with hundreds of people waiting. Most of them have camped out overnight. At 11.00am, the security-manned doors open, with only a few people at a time allowed inside. This is the first A Bathing Ape store to open in the US. Thanks to endorsements by the likes of Pharrell Williams, Lil Wayne and Kanye West, streetwear heads from the city, country and beyond are desperate to get their hands on the latest delivery of ape-head logo tees, Bape Sta sneakers and full-zip shark hoodies. Saturday is “new-drop day”, although the brand meets only 10 per cent of the demand; most other days, stock in the store runs low. Hype culture in full effect.

Oscar Piastri has people perplexed. While other racing drivers around him celebrate with champagne “shoeys” or slap each other’s helmets in frustration, he often appears to coast around in neutral, unmoved either way. Some have gone as far as to accuse him of being “emotionless”. In his presence, that’s not at all what you see.

As any menswear nerd worth their salt knows, Japan is where all the good stuff is. It’s an El Dorado of selvedge denim, artfully dyed fabrics and insider brands to admire. But this prior knowledge does not fully prepare you for what it is actually like to live it. Since relocating from London to Tokyo four years ago, much has changed for me. But perhaps the biggest shift is that I’ve never bought so many clothes. Access to so many great brands is an occupational hazard that’s been great for my wardrobe – and cataclysmic for my bank account. All of this incredible clothing is right there.

“Jeans represent democracy in fashion,” as Giorgio Armani famously posited. But if late capitalism has taught us anything, it is that the autonomy to decide between too many options isn’t always a good thing. The paradox of choice is a hard thing to grapple at the best of times, let alone when you’re getting dressed in the mornings. Denim is not just hardwearing, it goes with anything. Originally pitched to labourers and sailors, then miners, ranchers and farmers thanks to Levi Strauss, it’s a form of workwear that has transcended to become a category of clothing in its own right. By the Cold War, blue jeans became a symbol of freedom. And now, with the increasingly casual dress codes, many of us are even free to wear them to the office. Which should, in theory, make life easier, but doesn’t always help when selecting an outfit.

It’s 10.49am on a Saturday morning, December 2004, in New York City. At 91 Greene Street in SoHo, a large line stretches around the block with hundreds of people waiting. Most of them have camped out overnight. At 11.00am, the security-manned doors open, with only a few people at a time allowed inside. This is the first A Bathing Ape store to open in the US. Thanks to endorsements by the likes of Pharrell Williams, Lil Wayne and Kanye West, streetwear heads from the city, country and beyond are desperate to get their hands on the latest delivery of ape-head logo tees, Bape Sta sneakers and full-zip shark hoodies. Saturday is “new-drop day”, although the brand meets only 10 per cent of the demand; most other days, stock in the store runs low. Hype culture in full effect.

Oscar Piastri has people perplexed. While other racing drivers around him celebrate with champagne “shoeys” or slap each other’s helmets in frustration, he often appears to coast around in neutral, unmoved either way. Some have gone as far as to accuse him of being “emotionless”. In his presence, that’s not at all what you see.