INTRODUCTION

The clothing I make has heart and soul. When I design, the only limitations are the rules in my head. Sometimes, I have a hard time verbalizing those rules, and in fact, I find it excruciating when people ask me to talk about my inspiration and the creative process. So don’t expect me to do it here. I would much rather be sitting at a table trying to execute my ideas, not talking about them.

I grew up in Greensboro, North Carolina, where becoming a designer was not even a remote possibility; the opportunities just weren’t there. When I moved to New York, I really had no idea what I was going to do with my life, either. I just knew that this was the place I needed to be. I began working in fashion in sales, first in North Carolina and then in New York. With respect to design, I am completely self-taught, although I really think of myself as a maker rather than a designer. I learned the process from shopping, examining details, digging around factories, and listening to people who knew a lot more than I did. And I learned that ideas can come from anywhere and that coming up with them is the easy part of the process. The execution is the ticket—and an order ain’t an order until it’s paid for.

McNAIRY, PAT AND HOLLY: (Mark and Lisa McNairy, circa 1968): Courtesy of Pat and Holly McNairy.

My style has evolved from being afraid to express my real feelings to simply not giving a fuck. Life is too short. I like to think I make clothes for people who can think for themselves.

I have been hired to help companies revamp their brands, to help reinvent that classic, Ivy-inspired look. Well, fuck Ivy. The problem is there are too many rules, and rules are supposed to be broken. As a designer, the real turning point was during my incarceration as creative director for J.Press. Before then, I pretty much did what I wanted, but I was always amenable to the suggestions of buyers and salespeople. At J.Press, I was hired to administer CPR to a dying brand, but the powers that be would not let me do what I was hired to do. So I said: Fuck this. I am going to do a Howard Roark, and do exactly what I want to do, and it will work, or I will go down fighting.

Thus, McNasty was born. Or born again. However you want to phrase it. And I learned to not take myself, or this business, too seriously. But the things I make are serious business to me. I’ve had my own company since 2009. I’ve always been hands-on, and I think I always will be. It is hard for me to function outside the 10018 zip code. I am in the factories almost every day, looking at fabrics and choosing buttons, zippers, and threads. This is the way I learned how to make clothes. Just like the wrong shoes can kill a whole look, the wrong button or the wrong thread can ruin a garment and send me into a shredding frenzy. I am not kidding: it has happened. I am basically designing for myself, so there are probably certain details that most people will never even notice. But I know that they are there.

I like a modern take on the traditional. Actually, I like fucking with tradition. I draw inspiration from so many places: hunting and fishing gear, military uniforms, Savile Row, Ivy League, and work wear. The inspiration can come from anywhere, even from something wadded up in the trash. The way I see it, clothing should not be so formulaic in terms of how it is made or how you wear it.

This book is an extension of my philosophy on clothing and on life: from clothes and shoes to essential knowledge, and even a few tips on being a gentleman. My suggestion: Use this book as a guide. Find your voice. Be discerning.

Or, put more simply, read (if you know how to), think (if that is possible), look at the pretty pictures, get inspired, and then go fuck yourself.

And thanks for buying the book.

—Mark McNairy

Earth, 2016