'Good Things' is Esquire's celebration of the very best stuff you can buy, via the personal endorsement of our editors. "Best" doesn't mean most expensive, and it won't just be clothes (although, that's kind of our vibe). Just know that when you see the Good Things logo, it has the Esquire seal of approval.
Make sunglasses make sense. How can I drop the best part of my monthly rent on a pair of designer shades, only for a substantially less cool (but still functional) pair to pop-up on the end of the World Foods aisle for around the same price as a cup of coffee? In no other vein of menswear is there such a cost disparity. You can get inexpensive clothes, yes. That’s a helpful thing in this climate. But so inexpensive they start shilling them in petrol stations? I’ve yet to find a pair of jeans in Texaco, friend.
You’re paying for the brand capital itself with a blue chip brand. But, generally speaking, that investment comes with markers of quality, like polarised shades and UV protection. There’s little point in wearing shades if they don’t actually protect your eyes and the very thin skin around them. That’s why your Tesco wraparounds are but mere ducats, because they do absolutely nothing.
There is a midpoint, though. It’s just hard to find. While so many brands have gone for the affordable bracket, their sunglasses are often, well, forgettable. Just because it looks like a Ray-Ban Wayfarer doesn’t mean that it feels like a Ray-Ban Wayfarer. But at a fraction of the designer cost, there’s a label that really has nailed that midpoint. It’s called Chimi, and it’s really great.
Like most cool things that don’t try too hard, our tale begins in Stockholm. Childhood friends Daniel Djurdjevic and Charlie Lindström couldn’t find the sunglasses they wanted at the price they wanted to pay. Via an introduction through another ascendant Nordic brand (CDLP; banging swim shorts), Lindström told me as much over a drink and a salad in a well-known and slightly oversubscribed member’s club. He took several pairs of sunglasses from deep within a compact rucksack (square, black, angular), and each caused my hands to dip upon their handling, as if instinctually weighing their value. They felt heavy. They felt expensive. My favourite pair soon revealed themselves (again, square, black, angular), and Lindström told me their price: £145.
It’s not an insignificant amount. But for what you get, £145 is at the bottom end of the top market. Chimi’s frames are handcrafted. The acetate is Italian, which is considered some of the best in the world thanks to a ‘block’ process of cutting and curing that differs with the typical manufacturing practices in East Asia. The lenses are polarised, and, yes, that offers full 100 percent UV protection. They do everything good sunglasses should do, and they look good too.
The shapes are classic and wearable, but they’re not carbon copies of the shades every other brand seems to flog. A lens might be rose pink, or pond green, or acid yellow, not just black (but there is black too!). And the frames are familiar, but not overly so. They might be a little more angular, or there’s a curve in the right place.
There’s just a feeling of understanding with Chimi. They get it. The price, the quality, and what is genuinely cool without extortionate cost. Someone, finally, is making sense of sunglasses.
