Casca Corner #015
Between fly shops and menswear stores, a Minneapolis round up
I like writing but I don’t always know what to write about. Like my recent foray into trout fishing on the fly, it’s something you can always get better at, which is a large part of what keeps it interesting. The initial enjoyment I got from starting this newsletter is still there, though I’ll admit the momentum has waned a bit over the last few months. Part of that is probably seasonal. The weather in Chicago is finally consistently splendid and I’ve found myself wanting to spend as much time outside as possible. More often than not, when I’m not working, I’d rather be fishing than sitting at my laptop writing about fly fishing or criticizing the fashion space.
That said, I’ve realized those things have increasingly become the backbone of what I write about here because they’ve also become the backbone of how I spend my time. The older I get, the more my life seems to orbit smaller and more specific worlds. Fly fishing, menswear, specialty coffee, Japanese denim, odd museums, restaurants recommended by someone who knows someone, places with a strong point of view, etc. The broad middle ground of culture feels less interesting to me than it used to. I increasingly find myself drawn toward things that feel curated, intentional, and maybe just a little obsessive.
Speaking of being obsessive and fishing, I’ve been doing a lot of that if you haven’t noticed. I’ve fished 36 days already this year, which some quick math tells me is about 25% of all days so far. Not bad considering that includes the cold and dreary start to the year when I was at best just thinking about going fishing. Between all that and a few recent trips, I haven’t had a ton of focused time to sit with my thoughts and write. I do have some drafts in progress that I hope to finish throughout the summer. In the meantime, I suspect this space will continue functioning partially as an occasional fishing report and a repository for general recommendations. I hope that’s okay with you all.
Last weekend I did take a short fishing trip before rendezvousing with family in Minneapolis for a wedding. The wedding was a nice time spent with family I don’t see too often, and the venue, The Lumber Exchange, was beautiful. It is Minneapolis’s first skyscraper built in 1885—I love brick. In spite of being from Wisconsin and spending a lot of time up north over the years, I had never actually been to Minneapolis.
Minneapolis ultimately felt familiar in the way most Midwestern cities do to me, but still distinct enough to resist an easy comparison. It carries the friendliness and practicality of the Midwest, though physically it reminded me at times of a hybrid between Milwaukee and Seattle. I’m sure some native Minnesotans may beg to differ, but that remains my initial take. What makes it feel unique is that it’s still a genuinely thriving major city built around a pre-automobile urban core. There aren’t many places in the United States that developed before the dominance of cars and still feel economically and culturally vibrant at that scale. The older bones of the city are still visible there in a way that feels increasingly rare.
I have a substantial list of things I wanted to see from a planned trip that never materialized a few years ago, though I didn’t have a ton of free time on this particular visit. Still, I managed to work through a few highlights:
Minneapolis Sculpture Garden: This was predictably worthwhile, even if it’s probably at the top of every tourist itinerary. There are numerous works by prolific artists including Theaster Gates and Isamu Noguchi, though my favorite element was something I almost missed entirely: a series of granite benches carved with phrases by Jenny Holzer. I’ve always loved Holzer’s work and there are many quotes attributed to her that I’ve sat with over the years.
Weisman Art Museum: On the University of Minnesota campus, housed inside a wildly strange Frank Gehry building that looks like it’s folding in on itself from certain angles. Several galleries were unfortunately closed for renovations, but I particularly enjoyed their Korean furniture and art collections. There’s something comforting about well-made utilitarian objects surviving long enough to become art. I think that’s probably part of what appeals to me about so much of the clothing and gear I gravitate toward too.
BlackBlue: A menswear shop I’ve ordered from online over the years, which feels like a physical manifestation of a very particular corner of the internet. Japanese workwear, denim, loopwheel tee shirts, fatigue pants—it’s the sort of place where every object seems chosen by someone with deep convictions about clothing. I picked up a fresh pack of Whitesville tees and spent a while eyeing a pair of orSlow washed black dad fit denim before deciding I should probably exercise some restraint.
Mend Provisions: A small fly shop run by a former menswear industry guy. That background shows immediately. The shop is restrained and thoughtfully merchandised in a way most fly shops aren’t. Fly fishing itself already occupies this funny intersection between sport, craft, and aesthetic obsession, so it makes sense there’d be some shops approaching it with the same curatorial instincts as contemporary menswear stores. Not the biggest selection, but intentionally curated nonetheless. This shop probably would not have been on my immediate radar had it not been for Fly Lord’s Midwest Fly Shop Tour series.
Alma: Recommended by a friend that works in the restaurant biz, they operate as an all-day cafe before transforming into an award-winning dining destination in the evening. I had an excellent lemon-ricotta-almond pancake and latte for breakfast. I’d love to get back and try their dinner menu out some day.
Matt’s Bar: A beer and burger joint founded in the 1950s celebrated for its cheese-stuffed patty, the Jucy Lucy. Not much to say here. I think this spot also tops a lot of lists, but for good reason.
Chimborazo: Recommended by the guys at BlackBlue. A casual Ecuadorian & Andean joint perfect for a relatively quick but unique sandwich. I got one with pork and plantains. I’m sure their heartier dishes are more than worthwhile.
I think adulthood has become a process of building smaller ecosystems around yourself. Not necessarily expensive ones, despite how some of this sounds, but intentional ones. You find the restaurants recommended by people whose taste you trust. You buy (relatively) fewer clothes but care more about them. Your friendships become anchored around shared interests substantial enough to endure some silence. You travel differently too. I’m less interested in checking boxes. I hate the way some people travel in that it just feels like an extension of consumerism and there is always another place for them to collect.
I used to think developing increasingly niche interests might narrow your world as you get older, but I’ve mostly found the opposite to be true. The deeper you go into something, the more connective threads you start finding everywhere else. Fly fishing leads to new friendships. Menswear leads to travel recommendations. A fly shop turns out to be run by someone from the fashion industry. One good recommendation ultimately turns into another. Eventually your life starts feeling less random, stitched together by these smaller overlapping worlds and the people orbiting within them.
Meaning begets meaning!