Borrowed Taste
On Kith dads, contrarian pants, and building an arsenal for a war with no winner.
It just had to be Bugaboo.
After months of deliberation, hours of YouTube, and stopping people to ask about their stroller, we landed on Bugaboo about two weeks before Kith announced its 2026 collab.
Fashion guy wanted the Kith stroller.
Very much the opposite.
Now I was going to be corralled with the Kith dads, when really I was there because you can keep the bassinet up top if you have a second kid.
I know what you’re thinking: You’re the only person who’s ever going to think about that.
I know—you’re right.
But I’m the problem, and I’m the one pushing it.
I’ve fallen victim to collab slop before, and I will again.
Exclusivity and borrowed taste are a trap.
Only after the package touches down and the illusion fades does the item earn its spot in the hall of misguided purchases.
As a self-proclaimed big, dirty capitalist, I have no problem with the idea of smushing two brands together to fill the consumer trough. In fact, it excites me.
But collabs have become ammunition in a lame-guy arms race over who can own the most exclusive one.
It’s easy to get caught up in the moment when buying one.
The first question I need to ask myself is simple: Do I actually need this, or am I loading my arsenal for a war with no winner?
Last year, when Levi’s and Barbour collaborated, I bought the jeans.
Why?
Because I wanted to be contrarian.
Everyone will have the jacket, I thought. But me? I’ll have the pants.
Though they are great pants, I should have gotten the jacket—or just sat that one out.
Now I look at the jacket with envy and the pants as pants.
My shining example is the Kith x TaylorMade driver I bought with money I should have spent on lessons.
That one is embarrassing on a molecular level, but sorting it out will probably take a doctor, and we don’t have the time—or the credentials.
To be romantic about it, I could tell you collaborations should be about intention and storytelling, and all of that is true.
Most of the time, it comes down to this: me like, me buy.
But will I still wear it once it falls off everyone’s mood board?
As someone who enjoys the deeply romantic melodrama of what I wear, I fell hard for the Saucony x 3sixteen Peregrine 15.
Saucony gave me a silhouette I love but have no business owning. 3sixteen brought the indigo—and an excuse to buy a shoe that will never see a summit.
I remember buying them from the passenger seat of a rental car in Denver.
My wife was kind enough to drive while I refreshed the page, making sure I grabbed my size 14.
These delivered. I wear them often.
For the first few wears, I left a trail of indigo everywhere I went. My socks are still paying for it.
A good collaboration can add dimension to my closet, but owning a piece from one can also become an ignoble measure of how tasteful I think I am.
After much trial and error, I now pretend to act with some restraint and humility.
Rule of thumb, I only buy one item from each collab. Buying one keeps the whole thing special and stops me from overloading my closet with more of the same.
When I break that rule, I’m always left kicking myself by the time the tags come off.
But none of this means I’m going to stop.
I’ll keep buying collabs, most of which I’ll eventually replace with quieter things designed for daily use.
The curse is that I’ll remain self-aware through all of it.
That’s what makes getting dressed fun: the push and pull between ordinary and what the fuck is that. I usually land somewhere in the middle.
-SP
BUGABOO>KITH 🏆🏆🏆