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Thread Starter 
Interesting GQ article. Worth to discuss.

The GQ Style Guy considers how history will judge our drapey, Bieber-y, box-logo-loving menswear era.

Do Men Dress Ridiculous Right Now?

The shortest answer: Yes. We do.

I get e-mails from a lot of guys in their mid-thirties to early forties who complain about the status quo of menswear. They’ve owned 501 pairs of 501s and believe a suit should be the flashiest thing in a man’s closet. They’d answer the above question about our stylistic ridiculousness with a resounding yes, the kids look homeless and confused.

But let me point out one thing to my indignant brothers-in-arms: Unless you stick around as long as Kirk Douglas—the man’s 100 years old—you’ll see maybe two hyper-stylish periods like this in your lifetime.

Let’s quickly recap the last century or so of menswear. In the early 1900s, men dressed rather lavishly: pocket watches, lapel pins, hats, waistcoats that seemingly had their own damn waistcoats. Carnations on their suits, carnations in their hats. (Our great-grandfathers loved carnations.) But then the economy went to shit in the ’20s and ’30s and men toned it down. From then through the ’60s, menswear stayed fairly tame, for the most part (think Mad Men). The ’70s were outrageous: pigskin bell-bottoms, butterfly collars, and impenetrable chest hair on display. The ’80s were the broad-shoulder era: charcoal, wide lapels, wide-leg suits. The ’90s brought us grunge. For one crowd, Kurt Cobain was the new J.F.K. For another, no matter how tall or wide the Creator made you, your clothes were size XXL. The 2000s brought Americana back. J.F.K. was the new J.F.K. Gingham was sexy! J.Crew printed anchors—and money.

And now, today, we’re wearing skinny denim and even skinnier sweatpants. Collarbones are the new chest hair. Bieber and Nick Jonas and Kanye are our drapey style heroes. Ties are as impossible to find as CD-ROM drives. Everything is distressed, frayed, destroyed—we’ve replaced Savile Row with Skid Row.

We’re currently in a period, like the early 1900s and the ’70s, when men are swerving and dressing more flamboyantly. Here at GQ, when we go through old issues from the ’70s, we wince and crack jokes. Burnt orange corduroy suit with a straw cowboy hat and pube-covered chest? Cool, bro. In the same way, I’m sure the GQ editors of 2046 will look at the insanely priced, extremely tattered Yeezy Season 1, or the cocaine-cowboy Saint Laurent craze, or the skate-rat kids camping out for box-logo tees as evidence of dark days and shake their heads.

But I’d argue that being laughed at by our grandkids is a good thing. Innovation and cultural creativity are directly reflected in the way men and women dress. Thomas Edison swerved. Picasso swerved. When I look at the way we dress now, whether I see some skate kid wearing a copper-colored mohair cardigan from Supreme or some Brooklyn dad in $1,200 studded Chelsea boots, it assures me we’re living in an era of sartorial freedom.

Even if you’re not wearing a sheer scoop-neck T-shirt from Rick Owens to the office or buying metallic cowboy boots from the latest Parisian cool kid, these trends (and the ever-branching trends they inspire) are part of this moment. It takes radical—read: “ridiculous”—periods like the one we’re in now to shift the culture and breed the new staples of a man’s wardrobe. People will remember this decade for Obama, Tindr, and skinny sweatpants.

So to better answer the above question: We look cool now, and the now will look ridiculous later. That's okay.

But I’d be failing you as Style Guy if I didn’t mention the one moment that it’s not okay; the moment you should suspend the coolness of now to make sure you’re wearing something timeless. Your wedding day. I look at wedding photos the same way I look at tattoos—they should be cool for eternity. The Egyptians invented the wedding ring, a never-ending loop, to symbolize foreverness. (“Hey baby, will you do this never-ending loop with me?”) So wearing a hypercontemporary suit is sending mixed signals to the universe. I wouldn’t get married in Saint Laurent. I wouldn’t get married in Givenchy. I’d find a suit or tux that was divorced from time, and hope that would be the only thing getting divorced.

If your dream wedding outfit consists of you and your groomsmen wearing matching John Elliott side-zip hoodies, then by all means—it’s your day. But don’t come running to the Style Guy in a decade or two, asking him how you can Photoshop a navy suit onto your wedding photos.