ECHOES BETWEEN GYM WALKS AND GIGS, GHOSTS IN HALLOWEEN STORE COATS
The Coat
Let's talk about the coat.
Dark brown, faux-leather, hanging off a headless mannequin somewhere between the fog machines and the discount fangs. It's long. It's got shoulders that mean business. The collar flips up like it's been waiting its whole life for a wind machine that's never coming. This thing is theatrical with a capital T — pirate energy, captain-of-something energy, "yes I will be making a dramatic entrance" energy. The plastic shine catches the store lights just right. It's not subtle. It was never trying to be.
And honestly? We love it for that.
What The Fancy Version Looks Like
That coat is real leather, the kind that smells expensive before you even touch it. The drape falls like water. Every seam has a reason to exist. There's intention baked into the angle of every panel — the kind of design where someone genuinely lost sleep over a hemline. It moves with you. It says nothing and everything at once. It costs more than our first three gigs combined, and it would probably outlive us both.
It's beautiful. We're not going to pretend it isn't.
Why We Went "Halloween”
Here's the thing.
We didn't want the version that whispers. We wanted the version that's clearly in on the joke. Ghost In The Machine is about the glitch, the artificial, the thing pretending to be something it's not — so wearing a "luxury" coat that's really fifty bucks of seasonal polyester? That's not a downgrade. That's the whole point.
There's a freedom in anti-fashion. When the coat is from the Halloween aisle, nobody can accuse you of taking yourself too seriously. The DIY energy is real. The irony does the heavy lifting. And the best part — anybody can get one. You don't need a stylist or a waiting list or a trust fund. You need a Spirit Halloween and twenty minutes before closing.
The avant-garde coat says I have impeccable taste.
Ours says I know exactly what this is, and I'm wearing it anyway.
We'll take door number two. Every tour, every time.
Rereleasing some of my older music, alongside songs I produced in my bedroom during my time working at Abercrombie, Banana Republic, Urban Outfitters, and even Erewhon, has been one of the most exhilarating creative chapters of my life. There's something surreal about revisiting those tracks, each one a snapshot of a moment—a melody pieced together before a shift, a beat fine-tuned on sleepless nights. They embody a particular energy, an echo of who I was in those spaces, growing through the sounds I created.
On one of my recent walks to the gym, I crossed paths with two incredibly talented creatives. We got into a conversation about the performances I’ve been planning for the Ghost in the Machine Tour. Planning this tour has been a process of hustle—calling around, seeing who’s willing to give us a stage, usually for little to no fee, as long as we can use the photos for our social media. It’s raw, it’s DIY, and it’s what makes this entire experience feel so alive.
One thing that’s been an unexpected gem in all this has been Halloween stores—yes, a lot of them are still open if you pay attention. Those two guys I met (classic sports dudes, you know the type) found an incredible trench coat at one of those stores and put it on hold for me. When I tried it on, I knew it was destined for the stage. It’s sleek and dramatic, and I can already envision it catching the light during a set. They’re holding it at their place for now, which is honestly such a clutch move.
Music, fashion, these little pieces of connection—they all weave into the larger story, the one I’ll carry onto the stage.
-Mitchell