The Artisanal Sleazecore of Benny Blanco
Honestly, Benny Blanco was a total question mark to me until his much-publicized romance with Selena Gomez roared into my peripherals sometime this year. And even still, I know barely anything about the guy.
So it took me until oh, right about now to realize that Benny Blanco actually lives up to his nom de plume by wearing little more than a quietly impressive wardrobe of white sleazecore.
See, I thought the "Blanco" only added a little alliteration to his moniker but turns out it's an statement. This guy only wears a single shade.
To whit, Benny Blanco is barely dressed in anything other than pale layering pieces: white shirts, beige pants, Birkenstock Boston clogs to match.
Consider the slouchy, sand-hued look that Blanco wore out in New York on May 2.
Blanco's outfit is purposeful but easy: wide, short shirt with complementary embroidered drawstring pants over a pair of milkshade-toned suede Birkenstocks.
I appreciate the pajama of it all, honestly. No shame, just elevated slackerish essentials, just enough latent intent to make clear that these are clothes selected with purpose.
This is Blanco's stylistic M.O., a tactile blend of breezy linen and scuzzy statement pieces that look like Blanco only just rolled out of bed and slipped into the first surprisingly stylish thing he had laying around.
But his clothes aren't wrinkled because they were pulled from the floor, they're wrinkled 'cuz they're cut from organic fibers and laden with handstitched patchwork. And, yes, they're white clothes, which would reveal any dirt or grime were any there but Blanco's gear is actually quite crisp.
There's more than a dash of hippie flavor in Blanco's wardrobe, yes, thanks to the wide wearables and beardy stubble, though his piled-on gold jewelry obliterates any whiff of patchouli.
Instead, Blanco is repping new-school sleazecore, his personal stamp on the boorish menswear niche once dominated by the likes of Pete Davidson (where'd that guy go, anyhow?).
2022's ur-sleaze style was epitomized by giant streetwear T-shirts and shredded work pants. Blanco, however, favors a personal touch.
The stains that adorn his translucent shirts and drawstring pants were applied by hand, you see. The raw hems dangle from hand-stitched patches.
This is artisanal sleazecore. And Blanco demonstrates it with impressive consistency.
Save for the rare outing with a plain white T-shirt or jeans, Blanco perpetually slouches around in opaque muslin shirts and slouchy trousers.
Actually, the textural intrigue inherent to his white-out wardrobe — inherent once you actually peer beyond the scruff of it all — recalls the patiently-crafted Indian textiles of granola-y clothing labels like Kartik Research, Story MFG., and 11.11.
This makes for an intriguing contrast, what with Blanco's iPhone — wrapped in a case that looks like a giant cell phone — and a chestful of gilded jewelry. His mien is more old-school Wall Street hustler than slow-woven, plant-dyed nomad.
But it's a juxtaposition that, upon closer inspection, actually makes sense. His stance on sleaze is not nü-scumcore but post-hustle loungebro and, you know what? He commits to the bit.
Even if I never learn anything else about Blanco, I gotta admit that I like what I see. Clothing-wise, that is.
