Style

Rustic Authentics: Mumford, Lumineers, and the world’s worst clothing line

by Josiah Hughes

In part so I can read these issues of AUX on something larger than the palm of my hand, I recently treated myself to a new iPad. The girl at The Apple Store was incredibly friendly, but perhaps a little eager to make conversation. While we were waiting for someone from the backroom to bring my iPad over, she noticed that my wife was carrying a small bag from Urban Outfitters.

“Oh my god, don’t you love being a hipster?” she asked, creating an environment where I felt at once claustrophobic and alone in a vast, empty abyss. “I love being a hipster, but I guess I’m not actually a hipster because I like to call myself one. It’s a lot like the first rule of Fight Club.”

It was the longest five minutes of my entire life, and an experience I wouldn’t repeat to anyone if not for her concluding gem:  “Speaking of being a hipster, are you guys going to Mumford & Sons?”

These are commonplace conversations that happen all over the world. Many words have already been spilled about how indie is the new mainstream, and I’m not interested in starting a slag-off with anyone. What I am interested in, however, is that Mumford & Sons and their suspendered sidekicks in The Lumineers are the leaders of a new movement in pop culture.

Consider the fact that both bands are shoulder to shoulder with the biggest stars on mainstream radio. In my city, MumSons (a real abbreviation for the band) sold out their stadium show in less than ONE MINUTE. Their music may sound like a mountain moonshiner crossbred with a vaguely Amish youth group, but these bands are taking over the world.

There’s an incredibly meaningless word at the center of their rise to fame: authenticity. It’s the same snootiness that the Black Keys have been bandying around for their duration atop a throne made of brown leather jackets, and it’s almost impossible to explain.

Actually try to articulate why playing a banjo and singing a half-baked rehash of an old folk song (or, hell, a not-so-old Fleet Foxes song) is coming from a purer place than Skrillex’s populist wubs, Pink’s girls-night-out anthems, or even Chad Kroeger’s constipated celebration of all things white trash. From a taste standpoint, some things are better than others (technique, too). But there’s very little that makes one kind of music realer than another kind. And don’t tell me the Lumineers have more “heart”—we’re not talking about a family movie here.

Still, these new bands have a distinct look and appeal to a very distinct group of people, and it seemed ripe for the picking-on with my ongoing musical trolling experiments. But how do you engage with a community that seemingly spends most of their time canning food and looking for feathers amidst the trees?

If there’s one thing these heartfelt, authentic, real people love more than finger-pickin’ a banjo beside a serene riverbed, it’s all things artisan. These new bands are basically the musical incarnation of Etsy. Add in a distinct fashion sense that crosses through the entire scene (sloppy white dress shirts, suspenders, weird boots, the occasional fedora), and the entry point is simple: start an imaginary clothing line inspired by these bands.

I went with the most annoying name I could come up with (which I later found out is also the name of a London boutique, oops), settling on Rustic Authentics. Doesn’t that just drip with self-importance?

After throwing together some barely passable images in Photoshop and picking the perfect timeless font for my logo, it was time to start signing up for accounts and get my web presence going. That’s when I hit my first wall – how do you make a fake clothing line for a bunch of artisan-obsessed crafties without actually making any money? What if I put it on Etsy or Big Cartel and people start buying that shit?

Rather than risk some sort of small-claims court dispute from some goof with an old-timey bicycle and beeswax in his hair, I defaulted back to my beloved Tumblr. To avoid any confusion about whether or not these products were for sale yet, I used the term “look book,” which I still remembered from that one summer I read streetwear blogs.

From there, I piled on the bullshit with the following description (before you read it, consider the fact that I’ve successfully written copy for the branding of a beauty salon, and I haven’t washed my hair in years):

Disgusting, right? I had already Photoshopped my clothing line and cranked out the most cringeworthy product descriptions, so I posted it all up:

It didn’t work—at least not at first. The Tumblr presence is simply not that strong for people who prefer to live more simply (and more authentically/with more heart). Fearing that my time had been spent in vain, I reached out to some friends, asking them to show it to their friends. Soon enough, the blog was posted on popular hardcore bro message board The B9 along with indie-rock mainstay Hipinion.

Both sites offered mixed-but-similar reactions, with users calling it “gay,” questioning whether it was a joke or not, and expressing an overwhelming rage (which I fully empathize with). A B9 user summed up the line well with a fake URL: dragonlordauthentics.steampunk.net/friendzone.html. Others noted that the line was probably fake because the image I had used for the Babel Pantaloon was used on a different fashion site. Confession: I used the first image that popped up when I Google image searched “brown wool pants.”

I had some nice reactions, but it wasn’t enough. My previous experiments had resulted in a bounty of interactions, from cruel YouTube comments to actual death threats from Larry Stylinson shippers. I needed more, so I sent out a press release to music blogs from my Rustic Authentics Gmail account. It might have been a long shot, but even Pitchfork is pushing a new lifestyle blog with a suspiciously fauxthentic handle.

Thankfully, an editor at the NME let her love of clickbait suspend her disbelief long enough to post a blog post about my fashion line. Then, a barrage of angry Brits lost it on the site’s Facebook page.

Here’s a selection of my favourite comments, though I highly recommend you give the whole thread a read:

“Who would want to look like a retarded farmer?”

“Wanksville Tennesse”

“Clothes for the Trustafarian Wurzels….”

“Remember there is always a clue.

acCoUNtanT

ConsUltaNT

manChester UNiTed fan

rustiC aUtheNTics

I thank you!”

“It’s the music that I focus on… Not the sodding clothes. Stick to music NME leave fashion tips to the sheep”

“I dont need these to look like Marcus Mumford. I am already portly, have questionable facial hair now and again and am dead behind the eyes.”

From there, my line started to gain some traction in the UK. A few menswear blogs picked it up, along with some sort of branding site and some MumSons aggregators. Some music nerds also used the site as a launchpad for an interesting discussion about the so-called New Authentic movement, blaming everyone from the education system to the Arcade Fire.

Of course, it wasn’t all negative;I did get some support from a very small handful of people about the line. One girl emailed me and asked me when the line would be available, expressing interest in the Moonshiner’s Fedora, while another young man asked if the line would be available in the UK. Similarly, a fashion blog saved one of my images, unironically posting the Festival Fanny Pouch, something I took as a vote of approval. Best of all, impressed with my grasp of synergy, a man from a music branding company contacted me with hopes to discuss a marketing strategy for my launch.

In the end, I don’t know if I learned anything of great value from this project other than the fact that I am a great bullshitter. All in all, it was a lot of fun and in many ways, it doesn’t get any realer than that.