In a numbing sea of sameness and conformity, Tom Wolfe stood out. He found a look (a really good one), latched onto it and committed to it totally. Instead of looking like everyone else and boring the hell out of himself and anyone who looked his way, he decided to dazzle. And dazzle he did.
In his own words, Wolfe described his look as “neo-pretentious” and “a harmless form of aggression.” If he had never written a single book, he probably still would have been an icon merely for his sartorial savoir faire. But fortunately, there was titanic talent in the razor sharp observer beneath the bespoke ivory suits.
His brilliant and groundbreaking writing aside – the scope of which I can’t begin to scratch the surface – Tom Wolfe reminded us of the virtues of marching to the beat of one’s own drum. He once told the Paris Review, “I found early in the game that for me there’s no use trying to blend in.” I’ve found the same to be true in my own experience, and I’m grateful for the reminder from such an inspiring real life character.
Bravo, Mr. Wolfe. And thank you.