A huge aspect of developing into a grown ass man is the social. There’s no way around it. One day, your mom just stops getting calls from like, the other moms about so-and-so’s 10th birthday pizza party, and we start getting sleek little invites on foiled card stock to events at vineyards, venues and social clubs with swankier zip codes.
These things go two ways.
Way 1: They’re a nightmare. It’s either elitist in the “one percent” way, or the trust-fund-kids-with-beards way, and for most of us, it’s southbound and down like Kenny Powers from the jump. We can’t compete with the small talk flexing, nor do we care about stocks, prep school lacrosse, charity gallery shows, or the cold brew coffee infused craft beer that the guy who somehow looks like fucking Halsey is raving about. Way 1 can be humbling in the worst form.
Way 2: Co-worker stiffs in K Mart suits talk about the family vacation to Orlando, how well young Jakey Poo is doing on the travel T-Ball team, and constant cornball one liners covering topics ranging from complaining wives to “how damn expensive Target got lately”. They lack the pretentious exclusivity that Way 1 features, but make up for it by being a painful parade of slider eating middle of the road-ness. At the end of this event you act like Sid Vicious in For Those Who Sin shirts just because. You suddenly understand the movie “Pleasantville” so much more. You piss in the water fountain by the bathroom, and you don’t care who sees.
For the rad ass gentleman whos Spotify (and closet) features drops from Wu Tang, The Roots, Travis Scott, The Used, Bob Dylan and Armin Van Burrin quite fluidly- I’m here for you, bruh. For those who love Air Max and Brioni, can pound shots at the bar with the homies and equally enjoy an obscure ass Spoken Word reading at a coffee shop- I get it. And I get both of the aforementioned party scenarios are total death. They’re beyond death.
Guys like us, we’re the convergence culture. We’re the bridge, built on the diverse and eccentric, eclectic and electric, and we never even believed in the box they keep telling you to think outside of. We dig wine, and trap music. McGregor and Mayweather. We won’t wear terry cloth Vineyard Vines ties and conform to what we assume the rich kids like, and we won’t overplay the hand and hypebeast it up either. That’s some weak shit. That’s for weeners who need to be spoon fed.
For the same rad ass gentleman, you will be getting invited to cool things this season. They will include wines, and also cheeses. For sure.
So what if you cant tell the difference between a 2013 Frank Family Cab and a box of college girl wine? Who gives a rat’s dick if you’re more Opie & Anthony than Opus One? As for these cheese part, I actually have a lactose intolerance . I can’t recall the last time I even had cheese. However, I’m a wine snob. Let me rephrase- I’m the worst kind of wine snob. I recently got into soils and complex minerality. I now have a favorite Sicilian subset of Pino Noir- and it’s called Nero D’avola.
Don’t fucking pronounce it DE-Av-Oh-La. It’s DAHVOLA. I grew up in an Italian household, so I realize I have an unfair advantage, but for Mary’s sake act like you read a book once.
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.
For all those who aren’t assholes, but still get invited to asshole like events, I’m gunna throw you a pair of Swimmies. This is what the Pickup Artist Show didn’t tell you because they were too busy trying to get you to ignore the hot chic, sweat the fat chic, and dress like Criss Angel. See all that shit has it’s time and place, and don’t get me wrong, and there’s most likely a lot to be said for being the dude who’s wearing the mesh tank top, with a teal and pink dyed top knot. That dude looks like SeaPunk buttfucked Mumford & Sons at Cirque du Soleil. The rest, well, it just won’t be said here.
Why? Because there’s even more to be said for smart, confident and sharp. Stop dressing like you robbed PacSun. Brando had it right. Sinatra had it right. So did the Ivy League and JFK. So does Kanye and Helmut Lang. So does Conor McGregor. See, there’s no “guy” to emulate. There’s references to pull from. There’s influences to wink at. That’s the difference between walking in to the party and having people look at you (we often look at car accidents and shit too. SEE: Rotten.com) and walking into room and just owning it.
Fashion is art. And in any art, you first start with a pallet. As a musician, my pallet is the space and void between hearing and feeling, and I might paint that any way it feels right. I have friends who are painters and sculptors, and their pallets are different, but it’s more or less the same shit. Mediums don’t change energy, they just offer them unique outlets.
With fashion, YOU are the pallet.
Here are the pieces to paint with. Starting from the top down.
The Jacket: BRUNSWICK PARK BLUE BLAZER
The Brunswick Park blazer is unlike any blazer you’ve ever owned and will be the last you want to wear. It brings the performance benefits of outerwear with the style and fit of runway wear. Made of Brunswick’s custom Merino Wool the blazer is anti-microbial, moisture-wicking, and machine washable. That Medieval Navy color is the sweet spot between “royal” and dark, and is the perfect top layer.
The Shirt: CHEAP MONDAY AIR TWILL BUTTON UP
Lightweight breathable cotton. American style “Point collar”. Flat Chest pocket. And the coolest little blue pattern of cursor arrows subtly nod to tech, without making you a character on HBO’s “Silicon Valley”. With respect to Erlich Bachman. And also Jian Yang, the GOAT. The arrows and jacket play off each other brilliantly.
The Pants: ZANEROBE SHARPSHOT CHINO
A fresh and modern spin on boring tradition. Zanerobe, the LA based street-luxe house, does “reimagining the classics” very well. It’s mod and progressive, while still being 100% masculine. These cement colored chinos are slim-leg carrot fit, and feature a constructed waist, zip fly, slight drop crotch and tapered cuff with rib insert panel.
The Belt: DEL TORO “ORANGE INTRECCIATO” BELT
Handmade in Italy with woven leather and using classic intrecciato techniques, this hyper orange belt is luxuriously detailed with a gold finished solid brass buckle, and brown leather buckle embossed with the DT logo. Watch how that rocks with the Pair Of Thieves socks.
The Socks: PAIR OF THIEVES “DAMN GINO” ORANGE x INDIGO SOCKS
A subtle roar for the kicks. Featuring a Sante Fe Pop Art motif, the socks are one of the cockiest orange and blue jawns since Elway’s late 90’s Denver Broncos. Terrell Davis not included, but they do set off that above orange belt from Del Toro perfectly.
The Kicks: FREEMAN PLAT QUARTER JOGGER
One of my favorite footwear brands of all time had to make the outfit. Handcrafted in Felgueiras, Portugal, the Quarter Jogger exemplifies FP’s design ethos of colliding traditional silhouettes with premium street wear. A Mastrotto suede and Nappa calf skin upper sit atop the Jogger tooling; a welted EVA midsole and a Sousa & Fernandes leather outsole. Reflective accents on the heel and vamp add an athletic hit that’s both functional and signature to the collection. Oh yeah, you see that “FTMITM” text sitting above the arch on the curve? That stands for “Fuck The Man, I’m The Man”. And they have tassels. FOH with your yacht shoes, old man. FreePlat is the wave.
The Accessory: PERENNIAL COLLECTIONS TIGERS EYE BRACELET
Tiger’s Eye polished beads, with fabric tassel. In the right light they’re either deep brown, or slightly a burnt LA dusk orange. Either way, they crush it with the whole outfit, and take the formal look and run it thru the well traveled culturallti machine.