Our New Year's Style Resolutions

GQ staffers explain the closet tweaks they're making this year.
An illustration of a pair of sunglasses with 2020 on the front
Sunglasses by Prada / Photo Illustration by Gabe Conte

Buy One Thing at a Time

My closet’s a bad slurry of impulse purchases—patterns that clash, colors that don’t make sense together, and a lot of fast fashion that I can only wear three times before it disintegrates. Not only is that bad for the planet, it’s bad for me and adds an hour of kvetching about having nothing to wear to my morning routine. In 2020, I’m practicing shopping mindfulness, and only shopping for one thing at a time. I’m serious—I’m going to identify the thing that my wardrobe needs most, and do my research, buying no other clothing, until I find the ultimate version of that one thing that fits immaculately into my life and existing wardrobe. I want to shop like a collector, take my time, treat my purchases like they matter. So what if it takes me seven weeks to find the perfect raincoat? —Joel Pavelski, director of audience development and social

Suit Up

I have a confession: I only own one suit. And I don’t even really like it. In my defense, this is not entirely a personal failure. Suits no longer carry the formal social distinction they once did. If hoodies and jeans have become the uniform of the tech set, oversized jeans and oversized hoodies have become the uniform of the stylish set. But I turned 30 this past year and as I inch maddeningly closer to the rest of my life, I find that I’m longing for an existence that includes the traditional markers of (a privileged) adulthood: making regular contributions to a 401k, having a go-to candle, ceasing to do biceps curls, and owning a wardrobe of cool suits. Thus I’m calling it now: 2020 will be the year of finding three or four suits (I was using “wardrobe” liberally) I feel good in. But any resolution is only as good as its accountability mechanism. So, please, invite me to your wedding. —Clay Skipper, staff writer

Wear More Linen...in Greece

I finally watched the Leonard Cohen and Marianne Ihlen documentary this winter and had two big takeaways: 1) I should move to a remote Greek island in the 1960s and 2) I should be wearing more matching linen separates. Since only one of those is possible under the laws of space and time, linen separates it is. —Gabriella Paiella, culture writer

More Impulse Vintage Shopping

I first laid eyes on the overshirt in July, captivated by the intensity of its purple color. I tried it on immediately and fell in love with its thin layer of soft cotton and wonky lapel. Perhaps it was fear of my own sartorial intuition, perhaps it was misplaced economic anxiety, but something stopped me from buying it that day. Two months later, the shirt still a fixture in my imagination, I rushed back. Luckily, it was still there. I bought it on the spot. In 2020, if I see something I like—and can buy it without having its acquisition directly lead to more carbon emissions—I will not hesitate to do so. No more second-guessing my affinity for a secondhand find. —Daniel Varghese, tech and lifestyle commerce writer

Step Up My Pants Game

I lost some weight in 2019 (~brag~) but I've still been rocking my bigger-boy pants in the meantime, including a beaten down pair of Uniqlo black skinny jeans (not so skinny on me anymore!), and...well, a lot of other Uniqlo pants, too. And there's nothing wrong with that, but now that I've rehauled my upperwear game, I'm all about taking a sharp eye to a downstairs renovation. It might require some hand-holding, and a trip somewhere other than the Atlantic Terminal mall, but I'm ready and willing to take the plunge. —Brennan Carley, associate editor

Wear What's There

This year, as with every year, I'm resolving to wear my clothes. That means shopping my closet, buying very little in general, and re-discovering those items I thought I'd wear all the time...but have actually only worn once or twice in the past. If I do shop, it will be on consignment at a place like The Real Real in an effort to give older items a new life. After a friend recently told me that she's re-examining her relationship to STUFF, I've decided I'd love to do the same! This is the first step. —Nikki Ogunnaike, deputy fashion director

Lose the Single-Use

There are a few things I want to wear more of in 2020: Flared trousers. Extremely luxurious sweaters. Hats. My tuxedo. But after reading The Uninhabitable Earth over the holidays I’ve also been thinking about what I don’t want to wear. At the top of my list is anything single-use, those impulsive purchases that I probably won’t wear more than once. Then comes polyester fleece. (In 2020, we do not fuck with plastic microfiber pollution.) If I can’t imagine a garment having a second (or third, or fourth) life beyond my wardrobe, that’s probably out too. Individual consumer choice doesn’t really matter given the scale of our climate/ecological crisis (sorry), but the way I see it, just by making these resolutions, the chances of bricking any given fit in 2020 has already gone way down. Unless the flares don’t work out. —Samuel Hine, associate style editor

Find the Perfect Tux

The style-minded part of my brain (meaning approximately 110% of it—like the blue parts on imaginings of the globe in the year 2050) is laser-focused on one thing as we enter the new year: a tux. A great tux, a fantastic tux I won't regret wearing 10, 20, 30, or 100 years from now. Because—some personal news!—I'm getting married in May and there is maybe nothing more important in a man's life than (what he wears on) his wedding day. Do I dare go full-white, testing the limits of my marriage before the vows are even said? Do I want to skip the honeymoon and divert the funds towards a perfect Tom Ford tux instead? Tie or bowtie?? Boutonniere or broach?? Notch or peak lapels? What about a shawl collar? These are the questions I will ruminate over for the next couple of months. Ultimately, my style resolution isn't so different than it is every day of every year: Don't blow it!! —Cam Wolf, style features writer

Buy Fewer—But Weirder—Hats

I’m a hat guy. I own more caps than the average MLB equipment manager. Where others see a terrifying squall, I see an opportunity for beanies. I just packed for a beach getaway earlier today, and my carry-on is literally brimming (sorry) with bucket hats. But a few weeks back, my barber worked some untold magic and gave me a haircut that I like to call The Federer—partly because it’s bouncy and flowy and slightly ‘90s-boy-band-ish like Rog’s championship-caliber locks, but also because it’s the best-dressed my scalp has been this entire decade. I’ve drastically scaled back my headwear use as a result, which has been weird but refreshing, and I’m looking forward to exposing my bare noggin to the outside world more often in 2020. On the days I do decide to wear a hat, though, I plan on really making it count: swerving hard with some berets, some fur perhaps, maybe even some Samuel L.-style backwards Kangol action. Watch your back, Melo—I’m coming for your crown. —Yang-Yi Goh, style commerce writer

Buy More Hats

I've long suffered from what I've only recently diagnosed as a ruinous fear of hat hair. For me, whatever style bump I get from headgear has always been outweighed by the sad and stringy hair it belies. When it's below 20 degrees I wear earmuffs—that's how hat averse I am. This fear has plagued me since roughly the 10th grade (when there was no matted hair price I wouldn't pay for a pale imitation of Fred Durst's backwards fitted New Era). Sigh. But! This is the year I do my frigid ears a big favor. My style resolution is to embrace the fit-enhancing powers of ambitious headpieces, hat hair be damned. And the weirder the better. I plan to start with beanies and dad hats, and by next winter it'll just be a parade of furry cossacks and leopard-print berets. —Martin Mulkeen, commerce editor

Commit to Hype-Blind Dressing

I love bragging about my JUNYA JACKET and MARGIELA PANTS just as much as the next schmuckette, but in a quest to buy less stuff and wear more of the stuff I already have, I've discovered that some of the best things from my dark and mysterious past are decidedly past their moment of cool, and this can actually make them the coolest possible things. Like a pair of Virgil x Nike Air Maxes from the first collab—The Ten! Were we ever so young!—in September 2017. Or Wang-era Balenciaga. Or my Supreme fanny pack!!! Hype has definitely contributed to our disposable view of fashion and clothing (you need it until everyone has it), but there are always going to be great products that everyone wants. The trick is to stop seeing them as totally lame as soon as a blogger declares them so. Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! —Rachel Tashjian, style writer

Know Thyself

My 2020 style resolution is that I am finally going to recognize the difference between—and separately find the joys in—appreciation and desire. A hazard of this job—of harboring any enthusiasm for the rapidly expanding universe of menswear—is seeing a million new trends, grails, and advanced style moves flutter across my field of vision, kinda like in that eye-clamping torture scene in A Clockwork Orange, but with more statement knitwear. It fucks with my head more than I'd like to admit; makes me want things just to have them, leaves me judging my natural style proclivities against whatever's en vogue at the moment. This may read as both an existential cry for help/therapy and a mild indictment of what we do here at GQ—but I assure you, it's only one of those. GQ is a tirelessly updating moodboard letting the world know that powerhouse cardigans are A Thing, that high-waisted pants are back in full force, and that bow-tying one's shirt tails is an unorthodox but entirely available option. That there are achingly artful, utterly fresh menswear pieces being birthed almost hourly. But it's on me to do more looking and nodding, less craving. To continue putting absurd pieces in carts when I have no intention of checking out but to be okay with that wouldn't-it-be-fun-if act as its own reward. To wander the aisles of great clothing stores, all of which are two-thirds art installations these days, while caressing leopard print sport coats and motley-quilted, paint-splattered Japanese-inspired robe tops as I hum a note of appreciation—then doubling back to buy my fourth chore coat or 27th textured navy sweater the same way you'd witness great works then buy some postcards at the MoMA's shop. There's too much good stuff out there right now to ignore it, to buy it but not wear it, or, worse, to keep feeling feelings about not being able to afford it. In 2020 the Menswear Museum of Art is getting new wings grafted on daily, and I'm ponying up for a membership. —Jon Wilde, digital director

Shop for Pleasure, Not for Work

I semi-recently realized that when I'm spending money on clothes, it's usually office attire. Which is both boring and sad. So, for this brave new year, I'm going to invest my hard-earned dollars in more ME-TIME clothes, specifically ones that call to my woodsy New England roots. I want a pair of amazing hiking boots (thinking of some classic Danners). And some extremely un-ratty shorts (probably courtesy of my yoga go-to Outdoor Voices). And a big-ass nubby fleece (looking to the GQ style team for a little help here). It'll be Wilderness Mari 2020. Or if that doesn't work out, at least I'll have some truly feel-good leisure wear for weekend errands in Brooklyn. —Mari Uyehara, culture editor

Try (Just a Little Bit) Harder

Last year, I fell into a bit of a rut when it came to getting dressed. I have a deep-enough closet and like the clothes I own, but I still found myself cycling through the same old things, month in and month out. Several of the flashier items I'd acquired—sparkly glitter-covered sneakers or a wave-printed silk shirt, for example—sat in my closet because I didn't want to take the extra two minutes to figure out how to wear it with that day's outfit. This year, I'm gonna try just a little bit harder to get a fit off—and make sure to have a damn good time in doing so. —Tyler Watamanuk, contributor

Dress Up

Over the past few years, I've developed a pants-out theory of dressing: you start with your trousers (the weirder, rarer, and baggier, the better) and go from there. Lately, though, I've been thinking it'd be nice to start elsewhere, and also to dress things up a bit. Maybe that's because I'm getting older; maybe it's because the creep of work, via Slack and performed social media, into all parts of my life makes me want to delineate more clearly between my professional and off-duty selves. Either way, I'm thinking the way to go is to return to a dress code of yore, and pull my oxfords, knit ties, and navy blazers back into rotation. Nobody dresses like this anymore because nobody has to—which makes it that much more fun to do it. —Sam Schube, senior editor