There’s something really nice about shopping for a suit online, picking your fabric, making your customizations (like pick stitching, jacket lining, functional sleeve buttons, trouser cuffs and such), buying it and having it arrive at your home four weeks later, fitting like it was made for you. Because it was literally made for you.
I'm fascinated by successful people with considerable spending power who essentially live in one outfit. I think they’re onto something.
When the temperature dropped to the low 60s/high 50s yesterday, I reached into my closet for my Harris Tweed for the first time since early spring.
I love t-shirts. I wear them all the time. While a tailored suit is my standard uniform when I’m out and about representing myself or any endeavor with which I’m associated, my uniform at home is a t-shirt and jeans (which I’m wearing as I type this in my apartment).
If you’re a member of a special society or group that loves men’s bare feet and toes, or if your partner or spouse has a foot fetish and loves admiring, touching or more with respect to your toes, congratulations. You’re in a special minority.
I get a lot of pressure from brands and readers alike that I have to try this suit maker, check out those shirts, review that company, take a look at this label, yada yada yada. But these days, almost every Tom, Dick and Watchmaker likes to play the ‘luxury’ card, framing their wares as premium goods for bros who want to look like they’re killing it.
My problem is that I’m neither a “luxury” person nor a person who needs or wants a lot of stuff. When it comes to solicitations that land in my inbox, I understand the confusion. Between the tailored suits, shirts, ties and shoes, I probably present like a luxury person, even though I’m not. But these are hyper-casual times where a shirt with a collar, pants that aren’t denim and shoes that aren’t sneakers are considered “dressing up.”
My taste in shoes is like my taste in humor: the darker the better.
Every year around this time, I feel like burning my winter coats. I’m sick of wearing them. As I write this in the beginning of April, high temperatures peak in the high 30s/low 40s and the low temperatures dip into the low 30s/high 20s. I’m so bored with it.
I jumped back onto the saddle this week after a brief but fantastic trip to Palm Beach, Florida last weekend. I have a client down there who showed me the ropes in their little universe both in Palm Beach and in the charming town of Lake Worth.
Winter in the north is a bitch. In terms of smart and effective outerwear, an alarming number of men I observe are ill-prepared. I don’t know if it comes from lack of thought or some hyped sense of virility, but these same men are also felled by colds, flu and other debilitating winter ailments that negate the “I’m too tough for hats, gloves, heavy coats and boots” idea. When it’s 10ºF with snow on the ground, a fleece zip-up and sneakers don’t cut it.