Marcus Allen can certainly count himself fortunate that he never quite got around to embracing Marie Kondo’s ‘spark joy’ decluttering philosophy.
This perpetually cheerful 38-year-old, whose warm greeting makes you feel like an old friend, is the mastermind behind The Society Archive. Nestled in Manhattan, his vintage clothing showroom has become a go-to destination for stylists and discerning shoppers hunting for truly unique pieces.
Forget cramped spaces filled with moth-eaten uniforms or dusty 1920s suits. Allen’s specialty lies in what he affectionately terms ‘heritage American mall brands.’ He’s not just a pioneer, but likely the leading vintage dealer to focus on those iconic candy-striped Gap sweaters, classic Abercrombie & Fitch cargo pants, and even the ‘groany’ graphic tees. Remember those mainstream preppy items you probably ditched at Goodwill a lifetime ago? Allen kept them all, and now he’s built an entire enterprise around their resurgence.
“I literally held onto everything,” Allen recounts, his turquoise eyes growing reflective as he recalls his youth in suburban Boston. He spent his high school years working at the local Abercrombie, amassing a treasure trove of Gap, Polo, and especially Abercrombie & Fitch pieces, all thanks to his generous employee discount.
This impressive hoard of cargo pants and quirky tees stayed put at his aunt and uncle’s home in Easton, Massachusetts, even as Allen ventured off to study photography at the Massachusetts College of Art and Design. It remained untouched as he carved out a niche in New York’s competitive fashion scene, moving from Ralph Lauren retail to styling for prestigious names like Brunello Cucinelli and popular brands like Urban Outfitters. He simply couldn’t bear to part with the relics of his adolescence.
“These were the styles everyone wore when I was in high school—the girls, myself, even the celebrities in Hollywood,” Allen explains. “It represented what I aspired to be.”
Despite fashion’s shift away from the distressed preppy aesthetic, despite ‘mall brand’ becoming an insult, and significantly, despite Abercrombie’s provocative image being re-evaluated during the Me Too era, Allen steadfastly refused to part with his collection.
“This isn’t just inventory; it’s my personal history,” Allen asserts, navigating his jam-packed showroom. He pulls out items like worn L.L. Bean flannels, classic straight-leg Gap chinos, and even unworn underwear from Ruehl No.925 – Abercrombie’s short-lived, more ‘grown-up’ spin-off. “It’s deeply personal. I’m not fabricating any of this.”
What’s truly remarkable is that this intensely personal collection has captivated Allen’s contemporaries. Launched in 2020, The Society Archive began as a simple way to resell and loan his adolescent attire, but it has quickly become a well-kept secret among New York’s top stylists.
Since then, his collection has expanded dramatically in both breadth and volume. Having outgrown his previous location, he recently relocated to a new, larger showroom. As he tours the space, Allen highlights a variety of pieces: from perfectly worn Giorgio Armani button-ups to $3,000 Miu Miu fleece jackets that, in a testament to fashion’s cyclical nature, could easily be mistaken for something a 16-year-old Allen might have found at the Gap.
While he still sells individual items, the bulk of his revenue comes from renting pieces for editorial and commercial photo shoots. The pricing strategy is clear: he can generate significantly more income by repeatedly loaning out a single garment. Case in point: a simple Abercrombie graphic tee on a rack bears a surprising $350 price tag.
More than just a showroom, The Society Archive has blossomed into a brand in itself. Allen, who still lends his styling expertise to publications like GQ and Interview, now offers his own line of merchandise. This includes $124 frayed-edge ‘The Society Archive’ hats, with plans later this year to launch plaid boxer shorts—a perfect homage to Abercrombie—and stylish banker bags adorned with the showroom’s name.
“What Marcus taps into is a deep well of nostalgia, and that connection resonates universally,” remarks Jon Tietz, a Brooklyn-based stylist who is a regular at The Society Archive. For Tietz, stepping into Allen’s space and spotting just a few familiar items instantly transports him back to his own high school days, offering a unique sense of comfort.
Tietz believes the contemporary fashion scene is simply ‘too oversaturated with high fashion,’ with designers endlessly repeating trends. ‘People get tired of that cycle,’ he adds. Sometimes, what people truly desire are those simple Gap cargo pants they yearned for but couldn’t acquire as a teenager.
It’s undeniably significant that many of today’s leading fashion creatives, including Tietz and Allen, grew up in the suburbs during Abercrombie’s heyday. The brand, then a symbol of confident, upper-middle-class ‘bro-vado,’ marketed itself to the ‘winners’ – the athletic, sun-kissed, popular kids. This potent aspirational image left a lasting impression.
For Allen, his time working at Abercrombie was profoundly formative. He speaks of his mall job with the same nostalgic fondness an ex-football star might recall his glory days on the field. Decades later, the distinct, woody scent of Abercrombie’s Fierce cologne almost seems to fill the air as he fondly remembers recruiting friends and even scouting potential colleagues in the bustling food court.
“It was absolutely the best time,” Allen recalls. As one of the few Black students in his predominantly white New England hometown, he discovered a powerful sense of identity through the clothes he wore for work, styling himself just like the models in the iconic A&F Quarterlys—the early 2000s catalogs, now collector’s items, famously photographed by Bruce Weber.
“It wasn’t about trying to fit in,” he states, pushing back against any notion of being an outsider. He simply embraced the style because showing up for work in a blazer with a loosely tied knot just felt authentic to him.
Weber’s artistic vision continues to be a significant touchstone for Allen. (During our conversation, two copies of Weber’s recently published monograph, ‘My Education,’ rested on his desk.) Since 2022, Allen has even launched his own intermittent publication, The Society Archive magazine. Its upcoming third edition, titled ‘Dogma,’ mirrors the aesthetic of the classic A&F Quarterly: expect plenty of visible boxers, bare skin, artfully distressed denim, and playfully provocative graphic tees.
However, the once-idyllic narrative surrounding Abercrombie has grown increasingly complex. In recent years, former employees have courageously exposed instances of discrimination within the company, transforming its bold image into something far more troubling. Moreover, Mike Jeffries, the CEO during Allen’s tenure, faced indictment last year for his alleged involvement in an international sex-trafficking scheme. In 2018, Bruce Weber himself was confronted with accusations of sexual misconduct, which he has consistently denied.
Thus, Allen presents a curated version of this appealingly preppy aesthetic, consciously detaching it from its now-tainted origins. His showroom serves as a poignant reminder of the seemingly innocent Abercrombie brand image, unburdened by the later allegations against Mike Jeffries and the disturbing accounts of employee abuse.
It certainly helps that Allen himself is an incredibly warm and engaging individual, quick to laugh and possessing an effortless cool straight out of a Bruce Weber photoshoot. During a late September visit to his office, he sported a relaxed checked shirt unbuttoned halfway, paired with technical ‘swish’ pants and a perfectly worn-in Society Archive cap.
Allen naturally gravitates towards individuals with a certain ‘prom-court’ vibe. During my visit, his employee Jack Lumsden, a sharp-featured part-time model, was casually tidying the studio in a faded Emory College T-shirt. He could have easily been restocking shelves in an Abercrombie store circa 2004.
“It’s no shock that this aesthetic is now a powerful source of nostalgia for that generation,” comments James Scully, a former casting director and long-time acquaintance of Allen, who also operates Jamestown Hudson, a clothing store in upstate New York that has hosted Society Archive events. “Their fresh take on these familiar styles makes it feel incredibly relevant and modern – a kind of new, sporty, aspirational trend.”
The rise of The Society Archive coincides with a broader resurgence of preppy styles in mainstream fashion. Contemporary labels like Raimundo Langlois in New York, known for reinterpreting American classics with popped polos and shirtless male models, openly draw inspiration from the A&F Quarterly. Similarly, the vibrant Los Angeles brand ERL features pre-faded sweaters emblazoned with ‘College,’ while even high fashion houses like Dior have showcased classic rep ties and pleated khakis on their runways.
For Allen, the enduring appeal of this aesthetic remains unchanged from his teenage years. The clothes offer comfort, an inviting familiarity, and a distinctly American sensibility that, whether acknowledged by fashion critics or not, is undeniably powerful.
“At its heart, it’s preppy, isn’t it?” he muses. “And I truly believe that within this style, American culture finds a genuine way to be celebrated.”