Yes, sure, of course: technically, The Bear is a show about a chef and the sometimes-traumatizing experience of working in kitchens. But most viewers of the show have come to the same conclusion after finishing the series’ eight episodes: the show’s main character Carmine “Carmy” Berzatto, played by Jeremy Allen White, looks extremely good. It’s the “hottest show of the summer.” “Carmy is sexy as hell.” Allen White is the “internet’s new boyfriend.” (Even New Yorker cartoonists appreciate the show’s unspoken steaminess.) The cause of all this sex appeal comes down to Carmy’s always disheveled hair, and many tattoos—and, I’ll submit, his impeccably dialed-in style. A little digging on that front confirmed my suspicion: that while The Bear appears to be a food show, it’s actually the next great menswear show.
The show’s pilot is unambiguous about Carmy’s deep interest in clothes. After he finds himself short on beef and strapped for cash before the restaurant opens, he digs into his stash of vintage selvedge denim. He rushes into his apartment and starts opening closets and kitchen cabinets revealing a cache of vintage denim jackets and jeans. He has so much that he has to resort to stuffing items from his denim collection into the oven. Then, he winds up arguing with his beef guy about Big E selvedge denim, referencing Levi’s short-lived American-made and beloved line of jeans. Suddenly, we’re given a menswear history lesson: the jeans don’t have rivets because the use of copper was limited during World War II. Only the inclusion of a 1955 Levi’s Type III trucker jacket—pleated!—seals the deal and gets Carmy the beef he needs. He calls his sister and asks her to bring the jacket—and, like only a true menswear freak could, greets the sibling he’s been avoiding since their brother’s recent death by looking down at the jacket and asking, “You didn’t put it in a bag or anything?”
Even Carmy's simple choices paint a picture of someone obsessed with clothing. He wears a uniform of black Dickies and white T-shirts that are meticulously chosen. His tees, it turns out, come from Merz b. Schwanen, a small German brand, as well as Whitesville and Supreme's Hanes collab. Wearing Merz b. Schwanen tees is the type of choice someone makes after cycling through dozens of other white tees in search of the absolute perfect one. The brand was originally founded in 1911 and revived in 2011 after its new founders discovered the brand’s old factory in Germany sitting dormant with the original loopwheel machines. If we could hear Carmy’s internal narration, I suspect it might sound a lot like William Gibson’s Pattern Recognition, about a fashion-obsessed “cool hunter.” Meanwhile, the Supreme x Hanes feels like a bit of deadpan humor only someone able to interpret menswear’s hieroglyphics could make. If Carmy is the prototypical “terrible yet ridiculously hot [man] every big city has to offer,” as Mel writes, of course he would have to wear something from Supreme, the official brand of sexy fuccbois everywhere.
This wasn't exactly intentional. “The chefs I’ve come across and met are some of the most stylish people in a way that’s so effortless,” Courney Wheeler, The Bear’s costume designer for episodes two through eight. “It’s no surprise Carmy is as well given his background.” The kitchen backdrop is merely the crostini on which to serve a heaping portion of menswear pâté.
Cristina Spiridakis, the costume designer for The Bear's pilot, put it this way in an email: “It was never the intention to be 'stylish' per se—a white tee, black Dickies, and Birks is a common look amongst chefs. Carmy is a person that appreciates quality and classics, items that last, that aren't fussy or trendy—things created with a respect for the item itself.” Classics, things that last, clothes immune from trends: these phrases feel borrowed directly from StyleForum posters (or the pages of this magazine).
Naturally, the show has become something of an obsession among menswear fans. Identifying those perfectly crisp white T-shirts became a group project. Jake Woolf, a GQ contributor who runs a popular menswear TikTok account, pinned the tees as Velva Sheen. On Reddit, James Harris of the Throwing Fits podcast wrote, “From the creators of the show: ‘Velva Sheen and the Mens Brando shirts, plus the supreme white hanes.’” All this detective work became the basis of a story dedicated to Carmy’s shirts on The Strategist. Spiridakis confirmed that Carmy wore Supreme x Hanes, but clarified that he never actually wore Velva Sheen. Instead, Spiridakis said, he wore Merz b. Schwanen’s 215 tee and Japanese-made Whitesville tees.
And although Carmy is soaking up most of the style spotlight, he’s not the only one taking menswear seriously in The Bear. Ebon Moss-Bachrach, who plays aggro “cousin” Richie, said in an interview with the menswear newsletter Blackbird Spylane that he was similarly invested in what his character would wear. He and the costume designers were on the same page about Richie’s Adidas high-tops, wonderfully swishy track pants, and Richie’s black Members Only jacket you could spend a lifetime thrifting for. “It’s at least 20 years old and the shoulders are still so stiff,” Moss-Bachrach said. “You could balance crates on them.” Even the restaurant merch Richie wears looks like something Pete Davidson would stan.
For her part, Spiridakis said she is “pleasantly surprised” that The Bear’s style is taking off. Of course, it’s the shows you don’t always expect—the ones that nail the real-life details of the people who guys want to dress like—that often have the greatest impact on men’s fashion. The most influential menswear figures in entertainment are not mannequins. Their fashion has purpose. Everybody in SoHo dresses like their favorite spy, mobsters from New Jersey, moody admen, destructive gamblers, or even ‘90s comedians. Carmy follows that same archetype to menswear stardom. This summer, it just so happens we all want to look like a hot chef. The only question now is how far The Bear’s grip on menswear can take us. You don’t have to look far to see its fingerprints on surprising new formations in the menswear landscape: at this point it hardly feels like a coincidence that Aimé Leon Dore just sold out of an apron that’s now reselling like a hyped-up sneaker on Grailed.