Navy Chinos: Blazers, Jackets, Shirts and Shoes
I own six pairs of navy chinos right now. Six. I counted them properly, laid out on the bed like some sort of inventory audit, because I had a genuine…
I own six pairs of navy chinos right now. Six. I counted them properly, laid out on the bed like some sort of inventory audit, because I had a genuine…
Someone in my office, a woman two desks over who wears exclusively black and grey and has never once complimented my clothes, called loafers “the sensible aunt of shoes.” I…
I counted six times this week, black shirt on the ironing board or coming out of the dryer, and that’s not even a busy week for me. Tuesday it was…
Renata leaned over my cubicle wall on a Tuesday, looked at me for a solid three seconds, and said, “You look like you’re about to fire someone.” I was wearing…
My sister looked at me over her reading glasses when I walked into her kitchen last month wearing a black suit with a shirt the color of a swimming pool…
I own eleven dress shirts that exist for exactly one reason. A light gray suit I bought three years ago from a shop in Wicker Park that has since closed,…
My roommate walked into the kitchen, looked at me for a full three seconds, and said, “okay, who died.” I was wearing a black velvet blazer over jeans and a…
I counted it up the other week out of pure boredom: seventeen. That’s how many times this year I’ve been asked, mid text message or mid panic in my own…
I used to think the navy blazer was the blazer equivalent of oatmeal. Perfectly fine, technically correct, the thing you wear when you don’t want to be noticed. For about…
I counted my blazers this morning, actually got up and counted, because a client asked me last week how many I owned and I genuinely didn’t know. Eleven. Eleven blazers…