Zara coat (similar)
Wilfred camisole (similar)
Mavi jeans (c/o)
Sezane boots
Anthropologie beret
Zara sunglasses (similar)
Mejuri tote (similar)
Linjer ring (c/o) (similar)
Merry Men magazine
Location: Capital Grille – New York City, New York
I met Dan when I was twenty-one. I’d been working part-time at a local clothing store in Vancouver for a year and a half at that point, basically to make sure that I earned enough spending money to be able to stop there while I was on a university student budget. In reality, my earnings didn’t exactly meet my perceived shopping needs. I couldn’t keep up with the infinitely cooler (and taller and skinnier) girls that I worked with when it came to adding to my wardrobe. My somewhat limited sartorial options didn’t exactly make me an outsider, but I wasn’t popular, either. So I was used to getting to know new co-workers slowly, shift after shift, rather than being the first person they gravitated to. I mean – we worked in retail. It’s only natural that people would gravitate to the best dressed employees. I can’t fault anyone for that.
There were notable exceptions, and Dan was one of them. We were friendly from the get-go, and while my employment didn’t last long enough for us to become truly close, we had far more in common than either of us expected. We’d both come from smaller places to the big city of Vancouver, hoping to make our creative dreams come true. And we’d both hit (more than a few) stumbling blocks along the way.
We were still in our early twenties, and those stumbling blocks felt more like walls. I freely admit that I was often self-indulgent and melodramatic about my failure to publish a bestselling novel before my seventeenth birthday. We were both old enough to understand that we had missed the opportunity to make any “thirty under thirty” lists but too young to understand just how much of our lives still lay ahead. And just how much we would benefit from the experiences we gained by failing. We shared frustration at not being where we thought we would be by that point in our lives, and not being sure how, or when, we could eventually get there.
I forget which one of us handed in our resignation from the store first. That isn’t really important to the story. What I do know is we’ve kept in sporadic touch ever since, mostly via Facebook and instagram direct messages. It’s been more than a decade and in that time, we’ve both moved back to the smaller cities we came from, eventually recognising that it wasn’t actually our geographic location that held us back. Our careers have taken different directions than either of us expected, but we’ve remained focussed on our creative passions – and I still remember how proud I was when Dan first reached out to me in 2017 to let me know he was launching the magazine of his dreams, Merry Men.
It seems hard to believe that almost three years have passed since I got that message. We were in Paris at the time and it absolutely a this is it, we’ve really made it moment. I was featured in the inaugural issue of Merry Men. My copy sits proudly on top of my (ever-growing) stack of magazines. I remain both grateful for and flattered by the feature. But I also recognise that that issue was just the beginning – and it’s what Dan has done with Merry Men in the years since that makes me feel reflective about just how far we’ve both come since our retail days.
Merry Men isn’t just any magazine – it is produced entirely without advertising. Publishing anything on paper in 2020 is nothing short of miraculous. Competition from iPhones and tablets and all the other digital distractions is fierce. But to do it without funding from advertisements is a bit like facing up to that challenge and saying, “Let me do you one better.” The lack of ads means Merry Men is all substance. Every page is beautifully and thoughtfully curated. There isn’t a single one that you will find yourself turing thoughtlessly, wondering when the next article will finally come along.
I suppose maybe that’s why Dan and I connected, all those years ago – we both understand the importance of style, but we believe in substance, too.
Whenever I see copies of Merry Men at my local McNally Robinson, I can’t help but smile. We really have come a long way – and it’s onward and upward from here.
Merry Men is available at select retailers, as well as online. I am obviously biased, but in my opinion, both the print version and digital subscription are worth every penny.
What a wonderful achievement (and it’s pretty incredible that it’s ad free – that’s a rarity these days). How wonderful as well that you were featured in the launch issue.
Courtney ~ Sartorial Sidelines
THIS is just amazing Cee. On so many levels!! Proud for your friend, you, and love the history you share! I really need to get myself better acquainted with this magazine. ASAP! Plus your outfit (insert heart eyes) – you need to be in ALL the magazines. Seriously though, this outfit is just beyond!! xo
My Curated Wardrobe
To have a moment when you could look back and really see you’ve managed to transform your life from where you started ten years ago sounds amazing. Not in a big flashy way, but in a small subtle one, like simply looking at the issue of Merrymen, and being able to smile (yes, I see that smile) being reminded of the journey you were a part of, and I’m sure that smile returns every time you catch a glimpse of your own creations, out in the wild.