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The seventies revivalist whirls us round his enviable wardrobe, kitted out with vintage gems with a touch of yee-haw.

Anyone with an appreciation of the arts knows that self-deprecation is always a good place to start. It’s approachable and relatable – we all think we suck sometimes, and hearing other people say they suck makes us feel – well – a little bit less sucky. It’s why we’re gripped by Kipp Boucher’s frank lyrics and playful characters on his latest EP The Midnight Train to Soho, seeing him confront toxic masculinity and his own self in bright, illuminating ways.

Spanning four singles, it sees him sharply process the fragile male psyche via seventies and sixties-inspired bops. There’s equal amounts of those decades is his wardrobe – a dream collection of mid-century pieces combined with the effortless swagger of Bowie – from silky shirts to platform cowboy boots and statement shades. Naturally, we had to get him on board for our WERKIN’ FROM HOME series, so buckle up and get ready for some envy-inducing pieces…

“I’ve been conscious of the way I look, for better and for worse, since I can remember. It’s meant a lot to me across the years, and though I have been guilty of the odd open wardrobed tantrum (‘Where is my white collarless shirt from Fred Segal?’), fashion – on the whole – brings me joy. 

This passion (ahem) has run synchronously with my love for music, too. Did you ever watch an artist walk on stage, immediately turn to whichever friend/lover/stranger has had the misfortune of being stood nearest to you, and chewed their ear off about minute details of an outfit that neither of you can even really see? Me neither… But the two have a habit of elevating each other that just compels me.

It is important though not to let the way you look consume you; particularly in this batshit age where all of our anxieties are extracted as data, injected with a sort of self-esteem Novichok, and sent back to haunt us through our mobile phones to ensure we mentally hate-fuck ourselves into our only really useful purpose – spending money. To me, fashion shouldn’t be about bowing to what makes you feel bad, but rather escapism by way of what makes you feel good. I’ll admit it can be a hard line to toe, but when you strike the right balance it can be so worth it.” – Kipp Boucher


“Here I am manifesting myself on a private airport runway. Maybe at the Hacienda Nápoles. I don’t know. But it’s hot. And the 70s. I love a shirt with epaulettes. I feel like Castro or Gainsbourg or a bus driver. My official position on trouser width is next door to ‘always bootcut’ these days. I love the external pockets on these ones too. The Grecian slippers you can’t really see were inspired by a picture I saw of Cary Grant (a useful resource for all quandaries of style) and it just captured this perfect dressed up/dressed down niche I’ve needed in lockdown. The hat is actually my Dad’s old band’s merch from the 90s, an era from which I don’t borrow all that much stylistically, but I’ve recently taken to repurposing it in in a kind of Serpico way.”


“I’ve always got room for an extreme wide-leg; I probably owe this mostly to Bowie, but the influence goes back further – I think one of my favourite trouser silhouettes is Gene Kelly in Anchors Aweigh. I love these yellow trousers, it reminds me of the album artwork for Curtis Mayfield’s first record. These are actually my girlfriend Lily’s. I am holding my breath. I’ve been recently getting back into wearing graphic tees a lot, like this Phantom of the Paradise one. I feel pairing statement trousers with a tee brings the look back to earth a bit. Cuban heels are prescription.”


“Over lockdown(s) I have really found some refuge from the brain rot in the form of dressing up for no real reason. These trousers are possibly my favourite pair. They’re just a pair of black pleats, but they’re so beautifully weighted and hang like a dream. The shirt is by an amazing designer named Cat O’Brien. We’re both Seinfeld fans and bonded over The Puffy Shirt, and when I eventually realised I was no longer ironically enjoying such sartorial volume, I needed to wear one. Enter Cat. The Anti-Jerry was born. Giddyup.”


“If you haven’t noticed by now, I like old shit. I also have a soft-spot for country shit. In fact, my favourite singer is Diplo. The trousers are Wrangler (the American Wrangler where the models are like proper cowboy blokes), and the shirt is a vintage find. The boots are incredible. They were a gift from my pal Sián and it is a two-person job to get them off.  The glasses are some piece of shit pair I got for like £2 on eBay. The red tints help to hide my irksome red eyes, a truly unfortunate side effect of red-eye disease.”

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