It’s finally starting to feel like spring. After one of the bitchiest winters in recent memory, signs suggest that summer is actually coming. With temperatures flirting with 70°, men in the city are already starting to show some leg.

I don’t wear shorts in the city. In the midst of our culture’s relentless quest to recapture the ultra casual comforts of a onesie or a softball practice outfit in adulthood, I won’t do it. The inner child seems to be flourishing. It’s the inner adult I’m worried about.