Flannel shrugs off its grungy reputation

Here in the Northwest, flannel has a particularly potent association. During the early '90s, the uniform of the rugged outdoorsman somehow became the signature shirt of brooding twentysomethings, then a remnant of a bygone musical era. A Seattleite who wore flannel even a year ago risked looking like a walking grunge memorial.

But this past spring, Belltown clothier and shopkeeper Scott Kuhlman predicted that flannel would return in a bright burst of color, and this fall, it has. Kuhlman's eponymous First Avenue store currently stocks WESC flannel shirts ($84) in plum and peacock plaids. And when I visited a few weeks ago, a Kuhlman clerk wore a slightly faded red and cobalt flannel shirt, cuffs unbuttoned, neatly tucked into his brown leather belt. His preppy nonchalance seemed both homage and antidote to the Northwest grunge guy.

But Kuhlman isn't the only maven touting flannel this season. Eric Akines, the always cutting-edge owner of downtown boutique Polite Society, offers the red-and-black-checked Lumberjack Shirt ($124) from Soho design team Operations. Snowboard apparel company Burton, which can be found locally at Snowboard Connection and REI, introduced The Grohl ($75), a flannel shirt named for Nirvana drummer and Foo Fighters founder Dave Grohl, and J.Crew carries five varieties of vintage-look flannels ($69.50).

At Atlas Clothing on Capitol Hill, flannel never went away. Plaid shirts have remained there in a kind of continuous Cobain vigil. The recently expanded Atlas carries dozens of flannels ($15-$18) in an array of colors and cuts, some refreshingly modern and bold, others so drab they could've been worn by your high school shop instructor.

With so many great plaid shirts to choose from, it's time to put down your ax (and your axe) and shrug off flannel's weighty associations of lumberjacks and doomed rock stars.

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