Anyone who knows me, knows that I’m sort of a dandy.
Well not sort of a dandy.
I am a dandy.
I take pride in the way I look.
Even when I’m looking shabby, best believe it’s shabby chic.
As someone who is constantly commuting into and out of the city, dressing practically is très important.
And since it is NYC, being fashionable is equally (if not more) important then being practical.
To tackle the urban jungle, the clothes I wear must be light and cool.
If you’ve got to handle the heat generated by mad bodies pressed all up on ya in the subway and trains – you can’t be rocking heavy shit.
But they can’t be so light and insubstantial that they offer no protection from the elements if the weather changes suddenly (as its prone to do).
When you’re pounding the pavement, your shoe game has got to be tight.
Trust me, I know.
With these big ole size 13s, my kicks have got to be on point.
I’m not trying to cultivate corns, bunions or hammertoes, by jamming my toes into a pair of wack shoes.
My footwear must be stylish enough to keep heads turning, but durable enough to withstand the onslaught of folks invariably scuffing, scraping and stomping on my dogs.
And my bag has got to hold me down.
If you’re like me, you’ve got a laptop, tablet, smartphone, cables and charges to boot.
I may be a technophile, but I don’t want to look like one.
You know who I’m talking about.
The sweaty dude with a backpack laden with electronics.
Always trying to squeeze his humpback ass into an already jam-packed space, bonking and abusing folks in his wake.
I hate that dude.
So my bag has got to marry fashion with function.
Needless to say, there’s a certain amount of urban guerrilla that one must apply in order to achieve the appropriate mix of smart and sharp.
And I believe I have achieved couture nirvana.
Take yesterday, for instance.
White cotton Brooks Brothers button-down shirt. Check.
Navy blue silk Gucci tie. Check.
Second hand blue cotton vest (or waistcoat for my dandy brethren). Check.
J Crew Seersucker slacks. Check.
Tan leather belt with distressed silver buckle. Check.
Tan Giorgio Brutini leather shoes. Check.
Brown Louis Vuitton messenger bag. Check.
Silver Ray-Ban sunglasses with tan lenses. Check.
As you can see from the photo accompanying this post, I’m styling and profiling.
My outfit kept me cool in the heat of these urban jungle city streets, but kept me from freezing inside my climate controlled chilly ass office.
My kicks had me floating on cushions of leather goodness, and not cussing folks out whenever I happened upon the occasional cellphone walker or aggressive stroller pusher.
And if I got another compliment on my bag, you might have seen a black man blush.
The thick strap of my bag distributed the weight of its contents nicely, and kept me from being the aforementioned mad bonker.
Truth be told, the LV was actually my wife’s former diaper bag – but I still looked good.
What’s the point of all this?
Am I just sweating myself because I look good?
Well, yes. I look good.
But no, I’m not actually sweating myself.
I’m trying to learn you in the ways of surviving these mean streets in style.
If you follow my tips, you too can be a dandy urban guerrilla.