It’s fitting that I just finished bringing in a load of firewood and had plopped into my old wooden chair when I learned I was well attired for the latest fashion craze.
Apparently, according to Gear Junkie, your standard Adirondack men’s wear – work pants, a flannel, an unkept beard – is a thing. Like a cool thing. With fashionistas and all.
Move on metrosexual, clear the way for the lumbersexual:
Today, the metrosexual is a disappearing breed being quickly replaced by men more concerned with existing in the outdoors, or the pseudo-outdoors, than meticulous grooming habits.
He is bar-hopping, but he looks like he could fell a Norway Pine.
Looking like you could fell a big pine has pretty much always been a thing here in the Adirondacks, where floating logs down rivers was invented and people still own axes. But now, as it often does, urban culture is taking a cue from their backwoods brethren:
Seen in New York, LA and everywhere in between, the Lumbersexual is bringing the outdoor industry’s clothing and accessories into the mainstream.
Whether the roots of the lumbersexual are a cultural shift toward environmentalism, rebellion against the grind of 9-5 office jobs, or simply recognition that outdoor gear is just more comfortable, functional and durable, the Lumbersexual is on the rise.
“Hey, we’ve seen this before!” you say. “What about grunge?”
The early 90s grunge scene was more punk, less bumpkin. The lumbersexual exudes heteronormative manliness – he drinks craft beer, not pennyroyal tea. He’s more beard, less bald-a-face. Though they both share a love of the flannel, the lumbersexual “will open your beer with an omni-present Buck knife.” The lumbersexual is “a master of the retro Instagram filter.”
And in case you were wondering, here’s Cosmopolitan magazine’s take on what it means to date a lumbersexual:
Whenever you suggest a quick Ikea trip for a new dresser, he jumps in and volunteers to build you one and next thing you know, nine months later, you have a new dresser. You go to the grocery store to pick up basil and he says, “No need. I’m growing my own.” You go hiking and try to pack Power Bars but he tells you he already knows where the nearest patch of wild blackberries is. His beard looks long, bushy, and unkempt because he hasn’t looked in a mirror in months. You know why? Because mirrors aren’t found in nature.
One reader comment probably sums the whole phenomenon for most Adirondack men:
“What really sucks is that now the clothes you need for work shoots up in price since somebody thinks its cool.”
Photos: Above, Paul Bunyan at Enchanted Forest in Old Forge (from an old postcard); and below from beardrevered.tumblr.com.