The Upper West Side excluded, this city is one of the few exceptions to the general, countrywide men?s fashion-suicide pact (shorts, shirts with no collars, flip-flops, not showering, etc.). The local paradigms vary (suits, faux boating outfits, club wear), but ?normal? turns out to be a surprisingly narrow niche. You might, on your journey to step your clothes? game up, wander by accident into Rick Owens and emerge with a leather jacket and no shirt on; you might go to Opening Ceremony and end up the proud owner of an ephemeral, expensive garment that assembles in three complicated parts. A.P.C., the Mercer Street outpost of the French fashion label, has long been internationally famous for its jeans, but the store?s men?s offerings extend to shoes, winter jackets, and crispy button-down shirts. The style is clean, sober, and?crucially?functional (the lithe Chinese-Cuban spy hero of William Gibson?s Spook Country rocks A.P.C. top to bottom). Plus they keep the basics under $200, which is about what a Ramones LP will run you over at John Varvatos.