How Did Two Brits Break The New York Menswear Scene?

Photo credit: Inkerman
Photo credit: Inkerman

From Esquire

Thomas Downing and William Pritchard couldn't be more British. They speak like they're in a Richard Curtis film. They tell stories about their time together at Newcastle University that will be familiar to anyone who's lived in student halls. And yet their footwear brand, Inkerman, is a classic American success story. The product, too, has more New York DNA than London: clean, classic, contemporary and guaranteed to age better than the current appetite for chunky, swollen trainers.

That's because its founder, like the shoes he creates, is a dual citizen. "I grew up in England, but my family are all American," explains Downing. "So I was essentially brought up abroad, despite having lived my whole life here." Still, Downing's identity of Britishness seems to far outweigh his sense of Americanness. For one, his co-founder is his 'mate', definitely not his 'bro'.

Inkerman's path to success seems obvious on paper. It was founded with a pre-established US base, a familiarity with the market, the assets to launch a business venture and a helpful degree of privilege, about which Downing is very aware. But in reality, New York is always brutal. According to The Guardian, parts of Manhattan suffer vacancy shop rates of up to 25 per cent – five times the norm. What's more, miles upon miles of empty storefronts are becoming an increasingly normal sight citywide, with forecasts predicting up to 12,000 store closures for 2019 alone. This is not the best time to be bootstrapping a brand.

But it is indeed Inkerman's golden hour. They're doing well, Downing tells me, with a flagship near Soho, and a second store in the West Village. And the steady growth can be partly apportioned to the pair's approach to shopping IRL, when most choose to visit a URL. "New Yorkers are a lot more open to having in-store experiences, so coming in for a beer or a wine, and [then to] sit around and learn about the brand," says Pritchard. "If we can carve out an area in New York, and create this stone circle, people will come to you and act as ambassadors in themselves." Build it and they will come, so to speak. What's more, it allows Inkerman to break through the noise. "New York is still one of the biggest retail cities in the world, and there remains a huge amount of competition. So I think that, for us, we really tried to focus on differentiating ourselves by developing cool physical locations to visit."

Which has led to more openings for Inkerman: an LA branch on the so-called 'Coolest Street In America', Abbot Kinney. A seasonal pop-up on the holiday isle of Nantucket. This specific store-as-clubhouse format seems purpose-built for the American guy, who Pritchard rightly identifies as more open than his European counterparts. "People in this country buy on needs. You need a couple of different shoes for a couple of different situations and events, right? So you need a loafer or brogue to dress-up. You need a boot for American weather, which can be, like, minus 20 degrees and you're trudging through the snow. Then you need a canvas sneaker for your weekend getaway. We want to design around those needs."

Photo credit: Inkerman
Photo credit: Inkerman

Brits, with their proximity to fashion's continental nexus, have a tendency to sneer at Americans and their supposedly slow style uptake. But for Inkerman, it presents an opportunity to educate: meld function with something fancy, and build upon the shopper's pure quest for purposeful gear. "I thought this made a huge lot of sense to start here in America," says Downing, "to bring that English twist of classic style, and there's a level of trust that comes from that."

It helps that Britain remains the world leader in well-made men's shoes, whether via Northampton brands like Grenson, Tricker's or James Bond's favourite, Church's, or Londoners like Cheaney. What separates Inkerman, though, is its simplicity: the Osborne penny loafer is an unassuming yet classic shape that will anchor almost any wardrobe, but beneath the hood it's got a memory foam layer and customer-engineered rubber sole ("It was time for a more comfortable and practical approach to shoemaking," Downing tells me). The Charlie trainer is the sort of blank canvas that minimalists weep over. And the Noah Chelsea boot does exactly what it says on the tin: no frills, but still a lot of finery. That's because the pair are involved in every step, from design, to manufacturing (all Inkerman shoes are made in Mexico's footwear capital, León) to the logistics that deliver each pair back to New York.

Focusing on the basics means you can build from the ground-up, too. "We've space for new lines. We've got three new colours, and some quite heavy hiking boots and winter spins, which are pretty nice ways to develop," says Downing, who teasingly mentions collaborations and then refuses to spill any details. All he'll reveal is that machinations are in place following an appearance at the Texas arts festival South By Southwest.

Which, again, is a very American course of action for a brand born elsewhere. But as we wrap-up, we briefly discuss the etymology of Inkerman's name: apparently the street of Downing's birth. We exchange farewells of "take care". And, finally, the pair extend the offer of a beer the next time I'm in New York. Perhaps not so American after all.

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