ashmei's Ultimate Softshell Running Jacket

True story.

So many of us have spent so much time at Fernando’s Hideaway, that figment of Billy Crystal’s imagination, we’ve started subscribing to the it’s-better-to-look-good-than-to-feel-good philosophy. The U.K.-based company ashmei shows us that we can do both. Not only do I “look marvelous, darling” in my new jacket, I feel that way, too.

In my previous running life, I had a running jacket made by a very well-regarded athletic tech company. It had a detachable hood, removable arms, big pockets — none of which made for a very form-fitting piece. In fact, I used to hate the “wsh, wsh” sound I heard during my runs, like the rubbing together of tubby, corduroy-encased thighs. It never felt cozy.

After various circumstances led me the past year back to running, my body has begun to transform, leading me to seek sleeker gear for a new, (comparatively) sleeker me. I first spied this piece in British GQ, as one of its “100 best things in the world right now” feature. The trail of Internet searches led me to ashmei, which intrigued because, though I’ve never been to the United Kingdom, I’d always heard its drizzly, mild weather was very much like to Seattle’s. Plus it very much seemed like an outfit that embraced design and high-tech sensibilities — again, very Seattle.

The kicker was that every inquiry I sent ashmei, about sizing and the like, was answered by a chap named Stuart Brooke, who it turns out is the company’s founder. If you’ve ever read this blog, you know that I highly value shopkeepers who treat their customers personally, like the long-term investments that they are. In spite of the fact that the company, for me, was overseas, meaning mostly that I couldn’t touch and ogle the merchandise before purchase, plus I had to make all those euro-dollar conversions, I was willing to take the ashmei plunge.

The back, in black.

From the materials to the craftsmanship, everything about the jacket screams, “luxurious.” You can read on the ashmei website about the specs and the way the piece is mapped out with either wind- and water-resistant polyester or baby-soft, stretchy merino wool to match the climate zones produced by a typical runner. I can assure that it all looks, feels and works perfectly.

Suffice to say, it’s the little things that have me swooning about this jacket.

The end of the sleeves have thumb loops with hidden, flip-down merino mitts for colder days. The front zipper is offset, so it doesn’t chafe against the chin or push against the neck. The top of the collar is lined with fleece for further comfort and — get this – there is a bonded “Bite Grip” to help you zip down with one hand. Lest you think this all is superfluous and overthought, I’m one of those kind of guys who overdresses and then hates myself about midway through my run when I start overheating. No problem here. In addition to the ease of zipping down, unlooping and pushing up sleeves, this jacket has virtually hidden venting in the back and zip down vents in the front that work like a charm.

There are only two pretty small pockets and I say this not as a criticism but to flag inspired thinking. I mean, you’re not carrying a big, fat wallet on your runs so you can, say, stop for a bag of groceries, are you? One of the pockets is especially well suited for carrying a digital device and includes a cable exit and adjoining routers.

The jacket lacks a hood. Again, not a complaint. Hooded jackets are best for post workouts, in my opinion. During a run, they tend to be drags or bulky (if detachable). I purchased a merino beanie from ashmei, to go with my jacket. It’s feather-light, stretchy and warm. Plus the bottom hem is elastic, making this the first running beanie that doesn’t insist on riding up over my freezing ears or head. The elastic is a simple notion, but genius.

The ashmei Ultimate Softshell Running Jacket is a work of art. I can’t say it makes me run any faster, but I sure feel more sleek and therefore fleet. Running with it, I look and feel … mah-velous, absolutely mah-velous, darlings. It’s indeed possible to have both.

I’m just not sure a lot of people who venture into retail understand that the essence of maintaining business is building relationships with customers. There is a store that I love in Seattle (my hometown) which I sought to add to what hopefully is an esteemed list here at Derring Dude. The guys who work there are great, the concept is tremendous, but, yes, there is a “but.” It seems this place has a publicist. And, though nice enough in an email, the publicist sent me a release, said I couldn’t take photos and offered me a Flickr stream.

Yeah, really personable, this place.

Exclusive J.C. Indy Boots at Leffot

People like Steven and Kelly, and the owners of the other “Cool Joints” to which I will get to in time, are the reason I do this blog. So when someone Googles, “men’s shoes New York,” or “cool menswear D.C.,” Leffot and Lost Boys pops up. Then every time I visit New York or Washington, those two always are there. And we’ll both be happy for it.

Gilded Age blazer at Lost Boys

One of those I’ll enjoying chatting with is Leigh Nelson (not related, but wouldn’t mind if we were). I’ve never sought a quote elsewhere or otherwise comparison shopped. And it feels good to feel like I don’t need to, that I’ll be taken care of by someone knowledgeable, trustworthy and, most of all, engaging. I’m what you call a “customer for life,” and it used to be those were what business owners went to war for.

SeaVees at Lost Boys

So these offerings from SeaVees are a welcomed addition — so much that a bunch of Muccio’s inventory flew out the doors the first day it was offered.

As usual, Muccio contemplated the place of shoes in the Lost Boys universe. She landed on the SeaVees because she “handpicked only the styles that would go from pants to shorts effortlessly.” The self-monickered “purveyors of California casual,” SeaVees fits right into the casual, Left Coast vibe I felt at Lost Boys. Each SeaVees model also carries a number that stands for a date significant in the birth or re-birth of California cool.

Desert Boot in Java

Slip On in Navy

The Tennis Shoe in Navy

Kelly Muccio, owner of Lost Boys

For some, Lost Boys may require thinking a little out of the box. Set in such a seemingly buttoned-down hive that is our nation’s capital, the place has a nice West Coast vibe — cool and on the casual side with an emphasis on subtle quality. This probably is not an accident as Muccio spent some of her formative business years in personal finance out in La-La Land, home of the breezy, sometimes-gritty, details-turned-upside-down look that adorns her store, from display area to fitting rooms.

The joint is cozy and welcoming, nicely balanced between mod and vintage, and more haunt than habitat.

Tired of rat-racing from 9 to 5, the economics major from Chantilly, Va., quit her “numbers” gig, packed a couple bags and left the driving to Greyhound, all the way to New York, where she quickly climbed the ranks to national sales associate at Tommy Hilfiger. It’s obvious that Muccio developed her fashion chops in such a red-white-and-blue environment. Most of her handpicked pieces are from designers doing an updated turn on American classics.

Her lines — Steven Alan, Band of Outsiders, Rogan, to name a few — are not as “hard to find” as some publications have put it, but the way Muccio has curated them just makes more sense. She says she is so determined to have new offerings, she tries to turn her inventory on an almost weekly basis. And she has a sturdy confidence in her choices. I liked the way she allowed me to have my way with her space, as is my wont. The closest thing to a hard sell at Lost Boys is a slight insistence on accepting a refreshment.

Lost Boys is the hand-picked world of Kelly Muccio

Not that Muccio is any wallflower or is not willing to impart her wisdom on the fashion illiterate. She in fact offers formalized consultation, a part of the business that will get its own space with the impending opening of the Black Room.

Far from being lost and waiting to be found, Lost Boys has in less than two years become a “thing” in a city of things, the recipient of a public-relations whirlwind with Muccio at its vortex. Google her or her store and you’ll find Muccio as a female version of Forest Gump, appearing on Good Morning America, in the pages of the Wall Street Journal and just about any relevant magazine or blog you can think of. Still, the place manages to retain the feel of exclusivity and lack of overexposure.

Lost Boys, the name, is a takeoff on Peter Pan’s gang of misplaced adolescents, only here with Muccio cast as the caretaking Wendy. Everything in fact is so seamless here that a sales associate who arrived just before I left also was named Kelly. “To make things easier,” the head Kelly mused.

The owner of Lost Boys may have been kidding, but hers being a place of such delightful fantasy, I’d like to think not.

Based on my own inclinations, and those of people I know (some of whom track the release of, say, Nike Air Forces like others do the weather), I’d say the male focus on footwear isn’t considered at obsession level due only to the absence of available inventory. As a sports journalist, I’ve traveled extensively, killed considerable time in the name of fashion, and can suggest the best places to buy menswear in a lot of different cities. But ask me about a place, anywhere in this country, to buy well-made, in-style shoes, and I’m stumped.

Until now, that is. Until Leffot.

On the corner of Christopher and Gay Streets in the West Village of New York City, Leffot is a shrine to the male foot. Like a display at MoMA, it has a sizable room, ringed by windows and dominated by a long, ash table upon which some of the world’s best men’s shoes (and boots!) are arrayed like place settings. It is a spare, unflinching look owner Steven Taffel’s edit of brands such as Alden, Church’s, J.M. Weston, Wolverine and much more.

Inside Leffot (courtesy Steven Taffel)

A few weeks ago, an online story led me to a link that led me to Taffel’s blog, on which he posts descriptions and photos of new, delectable deliveries. By the time I arrived at the store, I practically was foaming at the mouth. I fully expected to leave with a pair of comfortable boots.

Years of pounding on hardwood basketball floors, asphalt tennis courts and whatever odd, hard surfaces upon which I’ve jogged have rendered me with feet that are difficult to squeeze into shoes, particularly high-fashion (read: slim to pointy) pairs. But Taffel, who worked for 25 years at places like Prada and Bottega Veneta, knows his stuff. He got me into Alden’s All-Weather Walkers that are made from a chromexcel whose color pigments change as the leather bends or otherwise shifts.

Alden's Plain Toe Boot