Men's Second Style

It’s not easy to keep white shoes clean when you live in post-apocalyptic ruins. Let’s be honest—it’s never easy to keep white shoes clean. Not really. It’s just something that has to be done, if you’re going to wear them. But with a city falling into wreckage around you, it’s an especially daring (and problematic) fashion choice. What with the abandoned cars, broken-up streets, buildings slipping into sinkholes and all. And the dust!—the dust alone is enough to make anyone cry and pull on some grey high-tops. Read the rest of this entry »

It’s been a while since I had a Guest Style Consultant make an appearance here. Actually, looking back I see that it’s been longer than a while. That’s surely not because I haven’t seen other guys out there doing a great job at putting themselves together. They (you) are certainly out there, and I have extended the occasional invitation here and there. But sometimes, sadly, the answer just isn’t yes. Read the rest of this entry »

Bigger is not necessarily better. I know, I know—size matters, and all that. People do say that. But as always, it’s not what you’ve got: it’s what you do with it that matters. Read the rest of this entry »

No shepherds here. No wise men. No baby. No stable, either. No bright, bright star up in the sky. Just an angel. Read the rest of this entry »

No story this time. Don’t worry, we’ll all be fine.

Because sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, and an outfit is just an outfit. Which is not to say that “just” signifies anything diminished or less worthy in any sense, in this or any context. But, just as there’s nothing wrong with a fine cigar being what it is, there’s likewise nothing wrong with an outfit that’s well put together being what it is. Because, after all, a well put-together outfit is already more than the sum of its parts. I find myself exceptionally pleased with how this particular ensemble came together, and I hope you find something worthwhile here, too. Read the rest of this entry »

When he stepped off the train into the empty station, he felt not fear or apprehension but, rather, simple annoyance. He hesitated for a moment and turned to signal the porter, but the porter had vanished back into the car and the train was already pulling out of the station in chuffing clouds of steam. He was annoyed because it had been no small task to secure passage to New Babbage on such short notice (notwithstanding the urgent nature and secretly noble origins of the request), especially in a style to which he was most comfortably accustomed. He was annoyed because he could see clearly that, in spite of all extravagant promises to the contrary, no one was there to meet him. He was annoyed because he could see that the nearby hostelry was the Mechanix Arms—no doubt a fine enough establishment, but it was not the Brunel Hall Hotel, where he had rooms reserved for his immediate occupancy. Read the rest of this entry »

He hated the term. He hated it, but no matter what he did, no matter who he tried to be, he could not escape it. He had been trapped by it from the very beginning, from his very incept date, for the phrase had been prominently featured in his homeostatic promotional material—in shining, swirling letters, in multiple languages, and repeated in subliminal whispers that could barely be heard, yet made their way deep into the mind and all but guaranteed a purchase, if not actual satisfaction. In fact, if he had come with an interactive instruction manual—which he had not—the phrase would no doubt have been emblazoned across every virtual page.

Basic pleasure model.
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I know what you’re thinking—Christmas is over. It’s true, December 25 has come and gone. But there are, after all, twelve days of Christmas, and I like to make the most of it. Only just today is it Twelfth Night, the Feast of the Epiphany, and I’m still listening to holiday music at home, although I’ve moved on almost exclusively to instrumental recordings. I kind of can’t stand it that the Christmas decorations are out for sale before Halloween, but I do like to let the season wind down gracefully and naturally across all twelve days. Read the rest of this entry »

You’ll find Sartoria’s mainstore on Cinnamon Island (156, 129, 29) .

Summer isn’t just about shorts, sandals and tees. I know, I know—it’s tempting, and it’s also how I dress pretty much every Saturday, all summer long. But there are still occasions and circumstances that call for something more. Do you have a job interview at which you must not fail to impress? An unexpected dinner invitation to the White House? What about that seemingly ill-advised September garden wedding? You’ll need something dressier. Read the rest of this entry »