Hockey: Avery talks sports and fashion with Men's Vogue

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Our favorite jock-turned-fashionista Sean Avery, who has been interning at Vogue this summer, just grabbed a guest editor spot with brother pub Men's Vogue.

The "most hated man in hockey" gives us a glimpse into what it's like to be a budding fashion lover in the world of professional sports:

I don't watch sports. I don't read about sports. Generally, other than spending a lot of time in dressing rooms both at home and on the road, I don't hang out with other athletes. Over breakfast in hotels when the Rangers are on the road, I read the Style section in The New York Times. Some people question whether I'm straight; others give me compliments. Some women find it a turn-on. My teammates are very supportive and cool about my interest in fashion — sometimes they even ask for my advice on what to wear. But I'd be lying to you if I said that I don't take some verbal abuse from opposing players for the clothes I wear, or for my interest in something — "fashion" — that I think sounds a little frightening to narrow-minded blockheads. I also realize that this isn't necessarily their fault — they think it's what they're supposed to think.

But don't feel too badly for Avery. I mean, he is working at Vogue and gets to eat in the Frank Gehry-designed Condé Nast cafeteria daily, though his first venture to get lunch didn't go so well:

And then it was lunchtime. The cafeteria in the Condé Nast building — which houses Vogue and Men's Vogue and Vanity Fair and The New Yorker and about every other magazine you've ever heard of aside from The Hockey News — is filled with some of the best-looking and best-dressed women in New York. Even aside from that distraction, my first attempt at getting lunch didn't go so well. You see, I needed two trays to hold my plates of beef stroganoff and my salad (which alone could probably feed four) and my two bottles of water and my Jello for dessert. To have two full trays in the Condé Nast cafeteria is like seeing a hockey player wearing skinny jeans — it just doesn't happen. And while my stick-handling on the ice keeps getting better and better, my tray-handling leaves a bit to be desired. I still can't find the girl who fled the cafeteria with beef stroganoff spilled all over her, but just in case she's reading this: You can find me on the twelfth floor, and I owe you a new outfit. I now limit myself to one tray at a time.

Wow - he can sure put it away. But it sounds like Avery's already making fashion foes. Doesn't he know that at Condé Nast, two trays of food are two trays too many? Get with the program!

Source: Men's Vogue

Originally posted by Rich Rodriguez