Scott Disick in a long sleeve by Chinatown Market, Polo Ralph Lauren camo pants, and a pair of Adidas Yeezy Powerphases. Photograph by Bryan Steffy for Getty Images.

Icon of the Zaddy Class: Behind Scott Disick's Streetwear Obsession

Once the embodiment of the Richie Rich-Boy ne'er-do-well, Scott Disick has pared back his style and added brands like Supreme and Saint Laurent to his wardrobe. But is he a trendsetter, or merely a cipher?

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Dec 28 2017, 8:28pm

Scott Disick in a long sleeve by Chinatown Market, Polo Ralph Lauren camo pants, and a pair of Adidas Yeezy Powerphases. Photograph by Bryan Steffy for Getty Images.

Consider the Disick. He does not labor or spin. Yet, I tell you not even (DJ) Solomon was dressed like this Lord. Our cultural preoccupation with S.D. is not new, but even the most armchair of Kardashian kremlinologists would note a sartorial shift in the last couple of years in our dear @letthelordbewithyou; from that of Keeping Up With the Kardashians Falstaff in Richie Rich blazers and fussy foulards to a more relaxed (even fastidious) monochrome uniform of hoodies, slim-stacked washed-out jeans, and a classic sneaker—with the occasional insouciant injection of market-trending pieces from Supreme, Palace or Saint Laurent.

But from whence did this gust of lo-fi, louche-bag streetwear come? Is it his proximity to Kanye West—a kind of “style by osmosis”? Is it a newly-single third-life crisis? Or perhaps the inevitable age-down that comes form dating a 19-year-old? And just how is he getting his hands on a LV x Supreme bomber, which was all but impossible to buy in stores? There is indeed much to be read in the sartorial tealeaves of television’s most-followed bachelor dad and steetwear maven.

On a functional level, this new Scott Dis-habille, as it were, is a stroke (or three) of genius. Three Easy Pieces: Hoodie (or tee), jeans, sneaker. It's a look possible for men of any size, age, or income level, which can account for its ubiquity. Jake Woolf, GQ Style Staff Writer (and noted S.D. chronicler), sees his new uniform playing out at brunches and school drop-offs across the land: “It doesn’t take a lot of effort and you can look pretty decent,” he said in a phone interview. “It’s the fact that a lot of guys out there aren’t really comfortable rocking the boat that much. So if a few years ago, that meant wearing khakis and a gingham shirt, the standard guy uniform now is this slim jean, t-shirt, [and] white sneakers. It’s just easy.”

But is he a trend-setter or mere cipher? “He has a huge social media presence and I think a lot of guys know about him. I don’t know if he’s the dude that’s informing their style, but he is really famous, and he happens to adopt a lot of the trends that have been prevalent in the menswear sphere. Whether that’s Saint Laurent with the jeans, Common Projects with the sneakers, and John Elliot sweats.”

Though these basics are anything but. The hoodies, however simple they seem, are the ne plus ultra of the category: the Michael Jackson Supreme he wore in Beverly Hills this past October, for example, or the Off-White Not Real hoodie in New York in September. Which is not even getting into his flexing (albeit more occasional and edited than in his I’m On A Boat™ days) with the rarer, flashier pieces. The aforementioned LV x Supreme bomber debuted on Scott’s gram in late August and had already been sold out (it’s currently going for 22k on 1stdibs.com). So how does the Dis attain this the level of cop? He certainly isn’t waiting in line or playing the 11:59 refresh game. Perhaps a well-connected stylist or streetwear plug? Not so much, according to Woolf: “I think he's probably paying re-sell prices on sites like Grailed. He probably sees things like anyone else—on Instagram—and then has an assistant buy them for him. I don't think he has a stylist.”

And why the need for such flexery anyway? General single-dom perhaps (he separated from Kourtney Kardashian in 2015) but also add a 19-year-old paramour (Sofia Richie) and an endless crew of Generation Z hangers-on swarming his club nights and pool parties and a compulsion for salad-day flash is to be expected. In a recent sneaker shopping video for Complex, he fields a question about the age-appropriateness of his recent looks, to which he replies, “Well, I wore a flannel the other day and someone I was with was like, ‘Wow you look really old.’ So I was like, ‘Oh, that’s nice.’” Which is to say, flannel: OLD, Kith tracksuit: AGELESS.

“I think he looks better the more simple, the more minimal he dresses,” offers Woolf. Yes, the softer side of Disick as of late has felt more palatable—and, perhaps counter intuitively, more “fashion” than those branded overtures of yore. but there will always be that Long Island instinct for gaud—the way he says “very” (väh-ree) explains…so much. (Eastport, in S.D.’s case.)

Whether he is merely embodying the collective tastes of our nation’s burgeoning zaddy class, or in fact their muse and style setter, his current mien is inconspicuously conspicuous in its bifurcated muted-ness and calculated dash. It’s a streetwear cat and mouse that ultimately makes sure the Lord is always with us.