The signs of the trend came not as a flood last winter, but in dribs and drabs. I’d notice twentysomethings in Patagonia fleece vests thumbing through Lost Downtown at Dashwood; an El Rey waiter ringing up my kale caesar in a Columbia windbreaker; diners at Win Son in North Face puffers and Acne Adrians; a couple in matching Arc’teryx parkas drinking flat whites at La Colombe. It was amusing, the incongruity of city kids — most of whom would sooner die than drink from a Nalgene — incorporating the hallmarks of camp gear into wardrobes of COS sweatshirts and 3×1 jeans. But as winter progressed, it became clear a bigger cultural shift was afoot. There was A$AP Rocky in a full-zip fleece at Fashion Week in January (it was Calvin Klein but looked like the North Face thing students at my liberal New England college would throw on for a noon lecture — the one that announced: “I no longer care.”) It was Tremaine Emory — co-founder of art-music-fashion collective No Vacancy Inn who’s consulted for Kanye and spun alongside Virgil Abloh — taking a selfie in London designer Martine Rose’s Big Bird-esque poncho that same month. Actress and model Solveig Almaas smoking a cigarette and framing the logo on her fleece with a peace sign. Mister Mort — that menswear Punchinello — in a Mont Bell cap and Patagonia parody shirt. The newly prevailing spirit of cult Japanese menswear magazine Popeye. Drake performing in a Stone Island windbreaker at the Adult Swim upfronts just days ago (he’s a well-documented fan of the brand.) Read more at New York Magazine.