Eli Russell Linnetz says he has a “thick filter” around what he lets reach him, which makes his timely and particular examination—and subsequent dismantling—of the idea of American prep all the more fascinating.
Ever the storyteller, Linnetz crafted a particularly relevant narrative for this season, a sort of collage of The Talented Mr. Ripley and Saltburn, plus the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The idea is that a kid named Ivy—a nod to the Ivy League, said Linnetz—becomes infatuated with an upperclassman at his new elite boarding school. Christian is the king of campus, and Ivy would give anything to be around him—or be him, rather. Linnetz’s story follows Ivy as he embeds himself into Christian’s inner circle, with his admiration turning sour and then poisonous—poison ivy, get it?—subsequently culminating in an act of violence. (If you’ve seen either of the two aforementioned films, you get where this is all going.)
Linnetz said that he wanted to explore the hierarchy of taste in the context of “what it means to be preppy.” An undeniable aspect of this particular American sartorial tradition is that it’s tied to race and class. There is a hierarchy to the idea of good taste and who gets to have it, but there’s also one connected to preppy style itself. Linnetz’s ruminations were focused on power dynamics, and how prep, in a way, has become an exercise in emulating those that are—or seem to be—the most powerful.
It’s a timely subject. Americanisms were trending at the spring 2026 menswear collections last month, and both Jonathan Anderson and Michael Rider explored preppiness, with various degrees of subversion, at their respective debuts for Dior and Celine.
Linnetz’s approach was more about relaxing than perverting preppy codes—“meticulously relaxed” is how he described it. Hence the beautiful ombré on cropped sweater vests, and tailoring that imitated the way the sun ages clothing over time. Linnetz kept his suits unlined and, in some cases, made them in nylon, a nod to the Venice Beach roots of his label. Argyle sweaters, cotton boxers, and grandpa-style knits all got the ERL treatment, with fantastic fabric selections in funky color choices and deliberate proportion updates (tapering at the waist, tight at the biceps, and stretched across the chest, which is to say very flattering for muscular men).
Early on, ERL often came across as a narrative-first project, but the clothes and their make—materials, cut, etc.—have taken on importance over time, to Linnetz’s credit. “It was more of an art project when I started. I didn’t know a single thing about manufacturing or any aspect of the business; I had an interest in costume and was creating my own bubble, and it had an authenticity because I was creating for myself,” Linnetz reflected. Now, there’s more “power and business” behind it, but ultimately what fuels the label is Linnetz’s obsessions. That they sometimes align with culture at large, he says, is a matter of people seeing their curiosities reflected in his. Such is the case of prep; either at face value or through a fun-house mirror filter, the American style is top of mind these days.
