People who meet Gavin Escolar tend to remember him. The extroverted Twin Peaks resident, whose long, black hair is streaked with silver, admits that he’s a bit of a caricature: “I’m that mushroom guy who always wears onesies!”
“Always” isn’t an overstatement. Escolar, who owns a chaga mushroom company, said he has worn a romper, jumpsuit, or overalls every day for seven years.
It’s a claim that’s nearly impossible to prove, but we’re inclined to believe him. He has worn them to weddings, symphony performances, the grocery store, and on wanderings around the city. When he had the opportunity to meet Vice President Kamala Harris, he wore a pinstripe onesie with silver piping, made for the occasion.
“I’ve developed this whole onesie obsession,” Escolar said. In a city known for characters and eccentrics, he’s carving out his niche with flair. He has sparkly onesies, quilted onesies, hand-painted onesies, lacy onesies, and onesies made with designer fabrics.
After feeling guilty for donning traditional workout gear at the gym, he bought some exercise singlets, so he never has to wear a “two-sie” again. Well, almost: He still owns one traditional black suit, which he keeps “in case somebody mandates me to wear it to carry their coffin,” he said.
While the onesie might evoke a last-minute Halloween costume or gauche neon rave getup, Escolar’s ensembles are closer to haute couture. But his infatuation did begin with a Las Vegas costume party: He wore a friend’s old flight suit to dress up as J.Lo, and it just clicked. “I slipped on that onesie, and I never wanted to take them off,” he said.
He loves the pockets, the flattering silhouette, and the fact that he has to pick out only one article of clothing, versus trying to match disparate elements: “You just zip up and go.” The choice has become his trademark: Steve Jobs had black turtlenecks, Mark Zuckerberg has hoodies (and now watches and gold chains), and Escolar has one-pieces.
When he tells people about his fashion fanaticism, the first question is usually about whether onesies make certain bodily functions unwieldy. On that matter, he’s resolute: “You shouldn’t have to go for number two anywhere else besides your own home,” he said. (It helps that his chaga products promote digestive regularity, and he does admit that onesies are easier for people who don’t sit down to pee.)
Escolar has had seamstresses make most of his nearly 100 onesies to his measurements, from his own designs. He used to have 200 but has been culling store-bought ones to give higher priority to his bespoke suits and create room for new additions.
Even his current stock doesn’t fit into a closet: The massive collection spans multiple supports in his garage, where each suit can hang vertically. He stands on benches to rifle through the selection.
His custom onesies typically cost between $150 and $600, depending on the fabric and level of craftsmanship. Local designer Lola Herrera has made his most expensive pieces:
“She’s like a Picasso of textiles — she’s not cheap, but goddamn, she’s freaking great,” he said.
He sources fabrics from local shops, including Fabrix, Britex, and, previously, Fabric Outlet (rest in peace), as well as from thrift stores and estate sales, where he finds vintage clothes he can dismantle and repurpose. Several years ago, a friend helped him score swathes of Chanel fabric that he has used for several onesies. He’s still paying off the credit card debt, but the finished garments cost “like, a 10th of the price” of Chanel couture, so it’s worth it, he said. “That’s gay math.”
He gets the most comments about his outfits when he’s selling his mushroom products from the Chaga Company. The attention has spurred him to launch his own line of onesies, coming next month.
It’s a good time for a jumpsuit design business: San Francisco small business Nooworks has built a cult following for its colorful “magic” suits, as has L.A.-based Big Bud Press. Escolar has also noticed onesies showing up on red carpets and among the designs of the biggest fashion houses.
“When I first started wearing onesies, people looked at me as a weirdo,” he said, “and now it’s a thing.”
As he poses and preens in his favorite suit, made from pink-blossomed Dior fabric, he’s the ideal evangelist for the onesie revolution.