“A lot of traditionalists felt like it was an
unusual brand to be competing in a mens-
wear category,” says CFDA president Steven
Kolb. “I feel it was an authentic and honor-
able nomination, and win. And certainly
spoke a lot about our industry and the direc-
tion of fashion. And also for creativity.”
Jebbia accepted the award in a gray suit,
white shirt, no tie. In his succinct speech, he
said: “I’ve never considered Supreme to be a
fashion company, or myself a designer, but I
appreciate the recognition for what we do.”
Fashion company or not, the moment
placed Jebbia in a room with Ralph Lauren
and Raf Simons and forced him to reckon
with the question. I asked Babenzien for
his perspective on Supreme’s relationship
to fashion, and he put it plainly: “I think
Supreme created the world that the entire
industry lives in today.”
POWERFUL AS SUPREME has become as a
trendsetter, the company is still fiercely com-
mitted to its own novel approach. Supreme
didn’t launch a website until 2006. It was
purposefully late to Instagram, too. Outside
of Japanese fashion magazines and down-
town NYC wheat-paste poster campaigns,
Supreme’s only real marketing e≠orts are
made in the skate world. Conveniently, mar-
keting to skaters is likely the best way for
Supreme to market to the fashion world. In
other words, the fact that Supreme doesn’t
pander to the fashion industry only makes its
allure more powerful.
In terms of marketing, Supreme does
have one true superpower when it comes to
reaching a wider audience—one thing that it
consistently executes masterfully. That is the
“brand x brand” collaboration, now employed
by everyone from Target and Vineyard Vines
to Rick Owens and Birkenstock. Supreme
did not invent the collaboration, but start-
ing in 2002, with the first Nike x Supreme
sneaker release, it proved that a big-brand
partnership could be explosive in the best
possible way. Since then Supreme’s numer-
ous collabs—most recently with Comme
des Garçons, Louis Vuitton, and Jean Paul
Gaultier—have expanded the brand’s range
and allowed it to dabble in a more elevated
kind of fashion.
There is no science to how and when these
collaborations occur. “If we could have done
a thing with Louis Vuitton 25 years ago, we
would have,” Jebbia says. “Or Chanel. For us,
whenever we do something, it’s something we
feel like, for young people, this isn’t already
a part of their world. Or it isn’t accessible to
them. We could do something that opens peo-
ple’s minds to something they hadn’t known
or thought about before. Like when we worked
with Lou Reed. That was just cool. What’s good
is good. That’s really the criteria. And if it’s
been done, we don’t do it. Simple as that.”
These collaborations succeed in two ways:
They fulfill Jebbia’s mission of giving kids a
chance to get their hands on rare and expen-
sive fashion for a cheaper price, and they let
established fashion designers experience
Supreme’s unique ability to sell clothes.
“It’s flattering to see that the younger gen-
erations find my fashions relevant,” Gaultier
tells me. “And inspiring that the collection
sold out within minutes.”
Then there is the sophisticated curation
of art and culture that is integrated into the
ethos of the brand, including marketing
campaigns starring surprising, high-wattage
celebs like Lady Gaga, Diddy, and Kermit the
Frog, and editions of skate decks featuring
the works of A-list art stars like Je≠ Koons,
Marilyn Minter, and Damien Hirst. These
cultural collaborations were not the norm 20
years ago. Now few fashion brands release
collections without both a celebrity-fronted
campaign and an art-star collaboration.
Supreme has been credited (or derided,
depending on whom you ask) extensively for
bringing streetwear to the forefront of fash-
ion, for pioneering brand collaborations, and
for recruiting art superstars to put on a box
logo T-shirt, but one simple thing is often
overlooked: Those things only work if the
clothes are good.
SUPREME’S LAFAYETTE store is currently
closed for renovation. The downtown shop
is temporarily located nearby, on the corner
of Bowery and Spring Street. The crowds out-
side consist of noticeably di≠erent characters
than they did 25 years ago. Those milling in
the lines come from all over the world, and
they queue up behind metal barricades, wait-
ing for security guards to let them in, one by
one. They don’t all skate, and some of them
wait in line with their parents.
Of course, for anything cool, there is peril
in popularity. But Supreme has so far been
insulated from the dangers of selling out.
This is partly because of good timing.
“In the early, mid-’90s there was always
a sense of sellout culture,” Harmony Korine
says. “Then all of a sudden it was obliterated.
And then culture was up for grabs. It was like
a bomb had dropped. There were no more
rules. It was just about making things, and
seeing things in a di≠erent way. And then
that’s when it became the most free. Then you
could do collaborations with White Castle.”
Supreme has worked with everyone from
outsider artist Daniel Johnston to Budweiser,
and never has a collaboration hurt its credi-
bility. No other brand has been able to be as
cool and as popular at once.
“The truth is, there will never be another
Supreme,” says Baque. “That’s why every-
one is so curious about it, and that’s why
all the companies are trying to figure it out
and they’re scrambling.” Jebbia, Baque says,
“is like your Phil Jackson of streetwear. He
knows how to put those teams together. At
the end of the day, he has the vision, and it’s
not about money and it’s not about talent and
one person; it’s about having the right crew of
people and finding that balance.”
Still, McKimm wonders what the lim-
its are. “I think now it’s almost at the point
where it’s so big, what’s the future of that?”
he asks. “Do you make it even more under-
ground or exclusive, or do you let it grow and
give people more access to it?”
It’s the million—no, billion—dollar question,
so I asked Jebbia. “We can just do what we’ve
always done,” he says. “Which is try and be
open, try and be very aware of what’s going
on, and try to make the best things possible for
today’s generation while keeping it true to our-
selves. I don’t have a crystal ball. But I think
that we’d have to stay the course if we’re not as
hot. We’d do exactly the same stu≠. We’re in the
business where that can happen—it is what it
is. Many brands have been through that; some
come out of it, some don’t. We’d remain who
we are. We wouldn’t change.”
noah johnson is gq’s style editor.
Supreme founder James
Jebbia accepts the
menswear prize at the
2018 CFDA Awards.
AUGUST 2019 GQ.COM 85
OPPOSITE PAGE, PHOTOGRAPH: WILLIAM STROBECK. HAIR: AJA ALLEN USING RENE FURTERER HAIR. GROOMING: KATIE PELLEGRINO USING REVIVE SKINCARE AND DIOR MAKEUP. THIS PAGE: THEO WARGO/GETTY IMAGES.
