on the map: gyasi on oakland style

blending east bay vibes, social consciousness, and a love of football (no, not the american kind) for a truly unique self-expression

If you’ve been reading this Substack for a while, you know I am big on walkable communities. Places where you can exit your front door and, within minutes, be walking into your favorite shop or restaurant, or bumping into a neighbor, or just enjoying the sounds and energy of the other people around you. I consider myself lucky to live in such a place in Oakland. Right down the hill from my place is Grand Avenue, one of the city’s commercial hubs (and not incidentally, a former stretch of the Key System, Oakland’s old network of streetcars; listen to this East Bay Yesterday episode on Oakland’s network for insight into how so many cities lost these amazing systems). Walking along Grand calms me. I like to go into Walden Pond—a bookstore that’s been in the community long enough that my dad browsed there when he lived on Grand in the 80s—and I like to stop in at Alkali Rye for their regular pop-up booze tastings and chat with the people in the shop. My favorite spot, you will not be shocked to learn, is ReLove, an incredible resale and consignment shop that opened on the street just last year, but feels like it’s been in the community for ages. Not only is the curation on point, but the people who work there are incredible. Browsing the constantly-changing racks and chatting with people in the store is one of my favorite ways to spend an afternoon.

It’s also how I met the fantastic person you are about to get to know. I was shooting the shit on a slow weekday afternoon in ReLove, and got to talking to Gyasi, who worked there at the time. Somehow, the conversation moved from fashion to biking—which we both love—and then into urbanism, transit, density, and 15-minute cities, and it hasn’t slowed down since. Getting to know Gyasi has been such a gift. We have so much in common: We’re both proudly from the Bay, we’re both enthusiastic transit nerds, and we both love fashion—not just aesthetically, but because of how it reflects our cultures and our societies. Our conversations always give me so much to think about, and this one is no different. I’m excited to share it with you!

What was your entry point into style, growing up in the Bay Area?

Living all over the East Bay, you get exposed to so many different styles, so many different trends. People have such an infectious way of expressing themselves. I live in Oakland now, but I was born in Berkeley and grew up in Alameda, so I’ve been surrounded by a lot of different styles. But I think what got me into fashion growing up was my family. My mom was an art teacher, and she fostered a lot of creativity in me and all my siblings. We all express it in different ways. One of my sisters makes music, and my youngest sister is a writer. For me, it’s come out mostly through fashion and sport. I’m a huge soccer player—actually, it pains me to say soccer; my mom is from England so it’s football. But self expression is a huge part of sport, and that fed into my interest in fashion. 

My brother, though, had the most influence on my style. He was a total trendsetter, and he’s two years older, so in middle and high school I was just always learning from him. This was before social media really took hold, so he’d be up late into the night researching fashion trends on his computer, on the internet. He was very clued in, very willing to jump on and ride these fashion waves, and each time a new school year started there was a new look. 

Paint the scene for me—what were some of these looks? 

In middle school, it was the Nike Elite socks with cargo shorts and a hoodie, and a Jansport backpack. You had to wear double socks, so you’d have two swoosh logos. These are just $12 pairs of socks that are meant for basketball, but they became something that transcended sports into fashion. People went wild for them. There were certain special editions, like the Think Pink breast cancer Elites, that people would literally try to buy off your feet. [Editors note: I looked this up and according to a NYT article from 2013, these same socks were selling for $250 on eBay (!)].

Getting into high school—this is embarrassing—it was boat shoes with no socks, and the summer frat boy shorts, like a Vineyard Vines type look. You’d wear that with an untucked button-up T-shirt and—this is mandatory—you would loop your Apple headphones through under your shirt so they hang in the front. And you’d have to wear a backwards hat and sunglasses. Jansports were still cool. The next year, it was the joggers look, which I hope never returns: Joggers tight around the ankle with chunky dad-style shoes, and then a T-shirt that was so long it was almost like a tunic. It sounds crazy, but at Alameda High, that was a thing that everybody did. Everything evolved really quickly.

Your style now is so unique and different from what you’re describing. How did it evolve, and how would you describe it now? 

It wasn’t until my senior year of high school, after my brother graduated, that I started to figure out what I wanted to wear on my own. That was when I really started exploring and wearing things that were more out there, less what was around me. When I went to college at UC Riverside to play soccer though, my schedule took over and dictated how I dressed—when you’re training for five hours a day, you can’t think about too much else. But when I realized that wasn’t what I wanted to do or where I wanted to be, I moved back to the Bay to enroll in community college and figure out what I wanted to do next. And all of a sudden, I had all this free time. That’s when the interest in fashion really started to grow. I had space in my house, and mental space in my brain to focus on other things. While I was taking classes so I could transfer to Berkeley, I was also working part time. When I got my first paycheck, the first thing I bought was a pair of shoes—part of the Adidas collab with the Dragon Ball Z creator Akira Toriyama. That felt like the first real dive into fashion for me. That was six years ago, and I still have every single pair of shoes I’ve bought since then.

I definitely went down the sneakerhead road for a while. I used to have an alarm on my phone labeled “sneakers” that I would set at 6:59 am, because the Nike drops happened at 7 am on the west coast. So I’d wake up, put my name in, go back to sleep and see if I got selected or not. I got some good pairs—I landed two pairs of the Nike collab with Sacai—but after a while, I started to feel like I didn’t need to do it anymore. I realized that it had become all about following trends, buying things because of the hype. I wanted to figure out what I wanted. It takes a lot of strength to go against what you’re being told you should like and want, and to think about who I am and who I want to be, and what is actually around me and how fashion connects with that. 

It sounds like you made a pretty fundamental shift from looking at the internet and trends, to really tapping into something about the Bay Area scene. What did that feel like for  you? 

You know, I think that the spirit of fashion in the Bay Area is very much surrounded by its history and present of being very socially conscious. There is a huge thrifting element that is really prevalent here. I really shifted away from buying new, buying fast fashion, and now I think 99% of my wardrobe is thrifted. I can always find things that meet my fashion goals by thrifting, and it’s more exciting, too. 

Like the fit I’m wearing now—I have to tell you this story. We were in Hawaii as a family, and my mom is now in the reselling business—she buys and refurbishes vintage bags and watches—and she realized the Goodwills were having a $2 sale that day. So we go to every single Goodwill on O’ahu. I think there were three of them. At this one close to the beach, I found these vintage brown slacks for $2. My shirt I found yesterday at the Alameda antique fair for six bucks, and my mom sourced the shoes for me for free. So my whole outfit is $8. And there’s a story behind everything that I have. I’d so much rather hear an interesting story about how somebody found an item, or how they inherited it than to know they scrolled for hours on a website until they found it. 

at the alameda antique fair, right; the incredible goodwill slacks, left

When I transferred to Berkeley, I studied sociology because I was interested in how trends form and spread. And I looked into that through the lenses of football, fashion, and race and culture. The combination of those three things together really shaped my identity, and when I tapped more into sociology and what it means to live in the Bay Area, my social awareness and conscientiousness really started to influence my style and how I see fashion. People in the Bay Area will go so far to avoid buying things that they'll just make their own things. I know so many people who make their own clothes. There are so many people from all walks of life who are creating for themselves and pushing  back against this incoming wave of commodities. When I was at Berkeley, I walked in a fashion show that featured some of my friends’ designs. And just yesterday, my brother and I were hanging out making our own jewelry. We definitely don’t fit the typical mold of people who’d do crafts—we’re two six-foot-plus athletes—but we were just hanging out, making ladybug necklaces. Is that the most Bay Area shit you’ve ever heard? 

berkeley fashion show!

So when we first started chatting about this, you said that when it comes to fashion, Oakland needs all the help it can get. And then you changed your mind! What prompted that initial reaction, and what led you to rethink it?

If you look at a lot of major cities around the world, they all have their own fashion district. That’s true in Paris, and Milan, London has Soho and Saville Row, and New York and Los Angeles have garment districts. But the Bay Area doesn’t really have a fashion industry. And in some ways, that’s created space for the image of the Bay Area as dominated by tech style and direct-to-consumer brands like Allbirds to take over. But that culture isn’t the true Bay Area spirit. 

What the Bay Area is really about is people being unafraid to be  themselves and lead these cool, innovative, groundbreaking movements. There is something about people in the Bay Area not liking being told what to do or what they should like. So when it comes to fashion, I actually think it’s a good thing that the Bay Area doesn’t have this centralized industry. People can participate in fashion and express themselves in all kinds of different ways, in all the different cities and neighborhoods. The history and culture really comes through when you get to know the places. I like to go to places like the Alameda antique market—there’s so much history and inspiration there, and premier fashion trends all over the place. You see people doing some groundbreaking things  you've never seen before.  My brother and I were just there yesterday and passed a guy wearing one of those fuzzy, Russian-style hats, despite the fact that it was 75 degrees, with a short-sleeve button-up, a black tie, long utility shorts, high black socks, and the white Grace Wales Bonner Adidas Sambas. It was just the hardest look. 

In Oakland, a lot of the style that’s quintessential here is demonized in the broader culture. Like on my way here, I rode past the lake [Lake Merritt!] and there were these six Black guys hanging out with their tricked-out cars and backwards hats and their Jordans, smoking a joint and drinking something out of a paper bag. People will see that and leap to all kinds of connotations, but they’re just relaxing, having a good time. That’s Oakland—it’s our culture, and it’s valuable. These guys have got it going on.

It  feels like Oakland is losing a lot of its soul as prices keep going up and a lot of people from historically Black and Latino neighborhoods get pushed out. But the energy and the spirit is still there. To see it persist and keep growing, and to see people being unabashed in their participation—driving their low-riders down Broadway, blasting music—is amazing. I love that if you’re out by the lake on a Friday, you’ll see so many different people out enjoying themselves. Oakland is never going to be all prim and proper; it’s never going to follow the trends people say it should follow. The Bay Area follows its own lead. 

How do you think about your approach to style now?

As I’ve gotten more intentional about how I source my clothes and what I want the way I dress to reflect about me, I’ve gotten a lot more creative with drawing from different influences in my life. Football is a major part of my life, and when I was a kid it was all about wearing Chelsea caps and kits, and it’s still rare that you’ll see me without wearing something blue. But now, the connection to me feels more about the form of style and expression. In the game, you don’t thrive if you’re conventional. You have to be fluid and mobile and willing to change, and that bleeds over into fashion too. I like to follow accounts like Footballer Fits, which documents footballer style outside of the matches—similar to LeagueFits for the NBA. Fashion across the sport is a really essential part of the game and it’s so intertwined with culture.  

It’s important to note that women athletes have been such a pioneer around self-expression in these  sporting spaces and they’re not getting the credit they deserve. Football in England has historically been very conservative—you put your boots on, you put in a shift, and you go home. But as women’s football has grown, they’re bringing other elements of life into football, particularly fashion and social justice. In the 2022 men’s World Cup, for instance, there was a ban against wearing any the Pride OneLove armband during the games, but during the 2023 women’s World Cup, Leah Williamson, who’s a captain for England, really pushed for the bands—she said she would have refused to play if she couldn’t wear the armband. That energy is starting to take off in the men’s leagues now, too.

Football was also my gateway into connecting with my English heritage and my mom’s family, which is something I’ve continued to explore. As I’ve gotten older, the influence of my grandmother on me has become more evident. She’s a ceramicist, and always did her own thing both with her work and her style—she always wore button-down shirts and trousers and shorts at a time when that was not the style, and when it was rare for a woman to take the path she did. My siblings and I have really learned about self-expression and creativity from her. I wouldn’t necessarily say that’s an English trait, but getting to connect with that family has influenced all of us. 

And the inspiration that I’m most drawn to now has a lot of that energy. There’s another account that I like called Uniform Display, which is these guys based out of London that document what they’re seeing, and you’ll see people styling baggy jeans with Sambas and a trench. So you have streetwear, football style, and traditional English style all mixed together, and it works. That’s what I’m trying to do—to mix and match all of my influences in my style. I’ve been branching out more when it comes to fashion and wearing skirts, painting my nails, expressing myself, making my own things. Fashion can express a lot—culture, individuality, creativity—and it’s cool to get to the point where I’m comfortable doing all of it.

In the spirit of shining a light on what’s great about Oakland, give us some of your favorite spots!

I want to take this opportunity to offer something a little different than in other “On The Map” recommendations section. I touched on how Bay Area culture—our self-expression and willingness to go against the grain, to challenge the status quo in our pursuit for authenticity—persists in the face of near-insurmountable change in the form of rising costs of living and long-time residents being pushed out of the area. However, this culture can not exist without the effort of people working to ensure the Bay can stay the Bay. It requires a concerted effort of dedicated individuals acting collectively through organizing and volunteering to ensure that Bay Area culture can remain alive in its pure, unfiltered form. So, I am going to also recommend a couple places which I think Bay Area residents (or people from afar should be aware of!) should volunteer to help keep our cultural spirit alive (and where I have volunteered to help make a difference!). First is Bike East Bay. Bike East Bay is a fantastic, Oakland-based nonprofit organization that strives to connect East Bay communities, creating safer and more sustainable communities through cycling and better bike infrastructure. If you like riding bikes, you’ll love Bike East Bay. Second is the West Oakland Environmental Indicators Project (WOEIP). WOEIP is dedicated to creating a climate-friendly West Oakland—an area that has been historically neglected in environmental discussions—through increasing the community power and input of historically marginalized community groups in climate-related decisions. WOEIP is a fantastic organization to get involved with if you care for the environment and seek to make an impact on racial justice. Finally—and perhaps most importantly—is the Oakland Museum of California (OMCA). The Oakland Museum is firmly entrenched in the cultural fabric of the East Bay, offering not only a look into California’s past, but a unique viewing into Oakland’s heritage and origins while shining a particular light on what (and who) makes Oakland Oakland. Working at the Oakland Museum has shown me the cultural wealth this city has to offer and I could not recommend this opportunity enough! 

Now for regularly scheduled programming. My two favorite spots to shop for the Bay Area’s finest fashion aren’t even stores; the Alameda Antique Fair and Oakland Vintage Market have absolutely everything I need when it comes to fashion and design. Staple pieces, check. Eccentric wonders, check. Emerging fashions, check. Global appeal, check. Amazing art, furniture, and items you probably don’t need but buy anyway, also check. Nearly all of my clothing comes solely from these two locations and what isn’t bought there is usually found at my local thrift stores, usually being the Alameda Salvation Army or The Katz Meow (technically in Alameda, but this place is any fashion nerd or collector’s dream)! Not to mention that each vendor is ever-ready to share an intimate and knowledgeable story about any piece you are looking to buy which significantly adds to your shopping experiences. Both fairs are an absolute must for residents and visitors alike. An honorable mention you’ll enjoy: ReLove—both the Oakland and San Francisco locations—have high quality, well curated collections for all types of fashion and is equally matched by the fashion minds running the store (I even worked here for a time) that assure you that you are making the right choice for your fashion needs [Editor’s note: Strong co-sign, I live up the street from the Oakland location and let’s say it’s a wonderful problem to have]. I bought an R9 2002 Brazil World Cup kit—staying on brand—while I was on shift a few months ago and it is one of my favorite buys ever (for the uninitiated). The haircut, the skills, the boots, the kit… chef’s kiss. 

Focusing on local drinks and eats, Oakland—and the East Bay in general—has a wealth of options. My favorite bar in Oakland is Bar Shiru, a Hi-fi vinyl bar sandwiched in between 12th and 19th street BART. This is an unsuspecting bar—offering no signage and shrouded by tinted windows—yet, it has on offer the most tasteful music I have ever heard in a bar with some of the smoothest drinks to boot. Bar Shiru is firmly in my top spot for a high quality night out experience. For a livelier, upbeat bar, I would recommend Mad Oak on 12th and Oak Street that is one block from the Oakland Museum (great place to hop over to after a day of volunteering!). I find this to be a great place to knock back a few drinks with friends and get loud and crazy– while remaining at a tasteful level of tipsy—without fear of being judged and even making some new friends along the way. My favorite taco truck in Oakland is Tacos Mi Rancho 2 located right by Lake Merrit on Lakeshore Ave–it’s bright green, you can’t miss it. I also love Smokin Woods BBQ and Kowbird when I am in the mood to eat some food cooked by Black people. Kowbird is especially elite. Finally, I love Marufuku Ramen in Temescal, a 15 minute walk from MacArthur BART and Dan Sung Sa (or more colloquially known as Porno Bar, for reasons that will be clear when you visit) located on the Oakland side of Telegraph Ave if I am in the mood for any of the Bay’s many fine Asian dining establishments.