Francis

You are the sum of your actions. That’s what the wealthy, the elite, the talented, the charming, the blessed, and those whose visions were rooted in the material - allowing them an easier time at obtaining them than those who’s visions occurred on another planet - all said. It’s easy to work hard when your road is yellow and brick. Francis prescribed to this doctrine. He was not in a position where he was happy to say that he was the sum of his actions, but he was sure that if he worked hard enough and with a bit of miracle arithmetic, he’d come out a fine number. He worked hard; filling out spreadsheets for a firm that did nothing in particular had paid well. He lived in a town where doing well was not a common thing. Cleveland hadn’t done well in years. The year that LeBron and Harvey Pekar left, one to Miami and one into the dirt, had been a rough one. Francis had survived and was making his way up; up into some social status that he could look down to his peers and say, “Well, the weather is nice. It’s certainly not as windy.” Things had been going well. He liked his name, which had a bit of old world wealth to it despite being Jewish, and he enjoyed the unstructured jackets he had purchased. If those actions went into the formula at the end, one word in his sum would be ‘elegant’. His sum was certainly increasing. This would change one day.

He sat on the toilet, thinking about nothing in particular. Perhaps how a master’s would look on his resume. That was quite an action to add to his sum. But he probably wasn’t thinking as he left his sportcoat on while sitting on the white pot. Finished, he stood up, turned around and realized what had happened. It was a debacle. Well not entirely, but for the most part. He had successfully gotten most of the shit in the toilet bowl, a small number to add to his sum, but a number none-the-less. However, his jacket, which he had meant to take to the tailor, was a tad long for him, and, as he took it off to investigate, had a smattering of shit hanging off the back. “Oh, this will not do. Not do at all. What a tragedy. What a cruel, unfortunate, unforeseeable mistake!” He cried to himself, though the man peeing in the other stall heard as well. He had made embarrassing mistakes before but never while prescribing to this philosophy. This wretched number would ruin his finale. His sum would forever read, “Francis: Sportcoat Shitter”. Tired and smelly, he did his best to remove the incident from his sportcoat. Then he balled up the cleaning supplies, balled it up with his old philosophical prescription, and tossed it into the pot. He flushed and went out to the sink, washed his hands – rubbing them almost raw – and went out the door with no idea who he was or who he intended to be. It was nice and refreshing.

Kimmel x Carhartt

Adam Kimmel’s lookbooks would indicate that he did the costume design for Napoleon Dynamite. You could call his stuff cute or sensitive, but never graceful or anything aspirational. I’m not sure if I like it. His mainline looks tend for focus on the quirkiness, hidden selfishness, and imperfectability of humanity that few romanticists can get behind. It features people who wish to be left alone to enjoy their hobby - only coming out for the weekends or a movie caper; then they’ll gladly accept human company, though never offering society anything otherwise. It features happy, but small (not in the physical sense), ideas of people.

Adam Kimmel x Carhartt appears to deviate little from his quirky roots. With intentionally kitschy details it gives little room for people to assume the grandiose of a person. It’s just another person infatuated with their own eccentricity. However, I will admit that the suiting is nice though I don’t believe I’d wear both jacket and pants together. They seem like they would look best with other things. We saw this Carhartt collab not too long ago on high snobiety and through capsule shots but I’m not sure that I can be any saltier until I actually see it in the wild. Maybe I’m wrong and it doesn’t belittle the warmth of human nature. A little part of me hopes that the blazers don’t, because a little part of me really likes them.









Perhaps what makes a well-fitting suit, without gaudy self-aggrandizing details, great is that it indicates that a man is willing to take the time and effort to make himself contribute to an ideal that is bigger than just being an individual.

Critiques

Given Sam Franklin’s enthusiasm, I had to give him a few more shots, so expect him to post on occasion. Recently, Sam told me he’s been reading tumblrs that critique the way people dress. He says he’s gotten a lot of inspiration from them and he would like to do a bit of critiquing of his own. According to Sam, his comments are, “witty and biting and really smart and sound smart too”. That’s good to know. We all need a bit of enlightenment. Once again, I present Sam Franklin.



this guy looks like a turd and everything about his outfit looks like poop he looks like a poop on a stick hahahalol



this guy looks like poop and thats because if you took all of his colors and mixed them up it would make brown which is poop haha



look at this guys what a dweeb hes wearing a tie bar that looks like poop and hes wearing a waistcoat which makes him look like hes trying really hard but actually makes him look like poop ahahahahalollol then he doesnt look like hes actually from london which makes him even more of a poop which is gross because poop is gross and then his all black makes him look like black bean diareaa which is groos and nasty and yucky and hes dressed terribly

Well, there you have it. It’s the infinite wisdom of Sam Franklin. Though he stole all of these images from tumblr and didn't cite them. I really don't feel like looking them up for him. My apologies if he stole your image.

Birkenstock Montana

Birkenstock Montanas seem to be a bit difficult to find. Ebay and abroad are probably the best places to find them. Birkenstock USA currently doesn't stock them. They're something I've been on the lookout for due to their exclusivity. We're all egotistical fools and we might as well feed the beast.

The Montana has a hiking vibe that fewer are looking for these days. Look alike Alabama is an option but it isn't the same. That dull lacing system just doesn't do it for me. You wouldn't feed your child store brand Cheezits, would you?



Anyway, sort of a divergence here: I had a pair of knockoff Birkenstock clogs that I wore around my hometown. People perceived them as feminine and I took shit for them. When I wore them at boarding school, a good portion of guys wore them (and got in trouble for wearing them to class). While this occurance isn't unique by any means it's one that you have to keep in mind when meeting with unworldly folk. Your dub-monks just might be fruit boots to them. Unfortunate? Yes. A truth of life? Unfortunately. Just remember: if people have a problem with the way you present yourself "fuck off" seems to have worked well in the past.

-exception here would be to have clothing standards for work.

Jump

Jumping, in retrospect, wasn’t the fastest way to die. He should’ve thought about that one. But like most things in life, he didn’t think about it before he did it. No use crying over spilt milk but this spilt milk hurt like a bitch. Some lady from a porch screams, “Oh my God! I think he fell!” Jumped more like. Though he supposed you could liken it to falling. Falling away from everything. Falling away from something that could never really reciprocate his feelings. His desire raging in his veins.

His wife had been crying for hours. Or bleary. More bleary than crying. Crying was a bit of an overstatement. It doesn’t thunderstorm for hours. It thunders for a while and then just rains and rains. So short bits of crying within a larger period of bleariness. He had just gotten his first pair of cordovans off ebay and his wife had walked in on him rubbing it in between his loins. His relationship with his wife deteriorated as his closet grew. Fewer nights spent with his wife and more nights searching for self-affirmation; an epiphany of happiness that he would achieve when he realized himself and how to perfectly present himself to others. Now his wife was moving about the apartment and began to pack a bag to visit her parents for the night. She wouldn’t understand how his love for her was boring and describable. It was the kind of love that wouldn’t keep either of them happy. His love for tailored menswear was truly indescribable. Words couldn’t describe the enjoyment he found tying a four-in-hand.

Later he realized he was wrong about that. The realization started after he critiqued some guys dress on tumblr. He said something like, “Shorts are totally inappropriate for any man to wear. They look far too casual with a blazer and make this guy look like he’s fat. He’s terribly dressed, really.” He had worn a pair of shorts that day. He had to artificially induce sleep that night, asphyxiating himself with a shantung tie and his hand holding his tubing. His wife had moved back in with her parents at that point. The next morning he went to his closet and realized that despite having 20 different spread collars to choose from, he wasn’t good enough for any of them. His love for menswear was describable. It was his hate for himself emerging. He tried to cover it with linen pants and unstructured sportcoats but when he did, he realized that he was still a shit. Overreacting to this realization he found himself at the top of a building.

The EMT arrived at the scene. He hoped they wouldn’t try CPR at any point. Broken rips wouldn’t make for a good silhouette. His thinking was oddly clear. As if you had to fall through the clouds to see anything. He still held menswear with regard. And he wished that he could apologize to just about everyone. When was the last time he had seen his mom? And then, his soul rose, like his erection for menswear, and drifted up and away from his body; leaving behind his Neapolitan clothed body to sadder endings.

Email

guidetobadtaste@gmail.com

Trendwatch: Face Care

It's been awhile since we've had a trend watch. Summer's here and your face is probably burning.

Guys have not only begun to worry about the quality of shoes that they put on their feet but also what they put on their face as they venture into discovering the quality products for face care. Each guy has different preferences when it comes to this sort of thing so I’ll just run through the basics. Some people like to quote Pat Bateman from Ellis’s work, “American Psycho”, when they talk about men’s face care but they just like to show how intelligent they are by quoting a fairly popular piece of literature. I’m not sure how much they actually know about taking care of their faces.

Cleaner: Most everyone uses face cleaner at this point and each have their preferences. Astringent and benzol peroxide are some favorites. Just remember, don’t go overboard and dry your face out.



Moisturizer: Moisturizers are great because you put them on in the morning and you’ll feel like a million bucks for the rest of the day. Your face won’t feel dried out, flaky, and splotchy. Moisturizer makes sure that your face is healthy and won’t age as quickly as it would otherwise.



Lip stick: All sorts of heritage brands are releasing various kinds of men's lipsticks. Make sure that you apply generously so that your lip contrast is noticeable.



Use these three products and you’ll be quite the rugged man all summer. You’ll have a well maintained hide for the fall weather and have potential street style shots.