Oct 25, 2010
38 notes
I was at Pitti.
Obviously.
Chopping it up with Japanese dudes about where to get the best pocket watches.
Trying on B Cuci dub breasts.
I got deep cuffs.
And deeper pockets.
Obviously.
TT was there, hunting for camo.
You already know how I do it.
Purp camo all day.
My shit was on point.
On trend.
Off the chain.
Obviously.
First lieutenant in the Florence National Guard.
Steez battalion.
Lino and Righi know how to take orders.
Because I’m a fucking leader.
Obviously.
TT asks, “Can you define your steelo for the people?”
Never thought about it.
And the people don’t mean shit to a playa, but since you asked…
"Neo-classical-Bape-military-prep-Agnelli corpsewear."
Obviously.

I was at Pitti.

Obviously.

Chopping it up with Japanese dudes about where to get the best pocket watches.

Trying on B Cuci dub breasts.

I got deep cuffs.

And deeper pockets.

Obviously.

TT was there, hunting for camo.

You already know how I do it.

Purp camo all day.

My shit was on point.

On trend.

Off the chain.

Obviously.

First lieutenant in the Florence National Guard.

Steez battalion.

Lino and Righi know how to take orders.

Because I’m a fucking leader.

Obviously.

TT asks, “Can you define your steelo for the people?”

Never thought about it.

And the people don’t mean shit to a playa, but since you asked…

"Neo-classical-Bape-military-prep-Agnelli corpsewear."

Obviously.

Oct 25, 2010
86 notes
I took the fucking Ivy.
Standing on my hardwood floor.
Pennys with no socks (natch).
POV shot.
This shit is straight porno.
I’m a fucking cinemotagrapher.
Who the fuck are you?
I’m Trad in a toaster.
Fucking crispy.
Glad Powerhouse re-published.
I only buy Made in the fucking USA.
Got this shit fucking pre-order.
Haven’t even opened the book.
I fucking been had the scans.
In photo class at my liberal arts college.
Name dropped T. Hayashidy.
Prof had no fucking clue.
So not Ivy.
Ivy is not one of eight prestigious unversities.
Ivy is not Madison Avenue.
Ivy is not Brooks Brothers.
Ivy is not modern Jazz.
Ivy is my BA in clownin’ on bitches.
Ivy is my crotch out of focus.
Ivy is standing in my iced out apartment.
Steezying for my followers.
I took the fucking Ivy.

I took the fucking Ivy.

Standing on my hardwood floor.

Pennys with no socks (natch).

POV shot.

This shit is straight porno.

I’m a fucking cinemotagrapher.

Who the fuck are you?

I’m Trad in a toaster.

Fucking crispy.

Glad Powerhouse re-published.

I only buy Made in the fucking USA.

Got this shit fucking pre-order.

Haven’t even opened the book.

I fucking been had the scans.

In photo class at my liberal arts college.

Name dropped T. Hayashidy.

Prof had no fucking clue.

So not Ivy.

Ivy is not one of eight prestigious unversities.

Ivy is not Madison Avenue.

Ivy is not Brooks Brothers.

Ivy is not modern Jazz.

Ivy is my BA in clownin’ on bitches.

Ivy is my crotch out of focus.

Ivy is standing in my iced out apartment.

Steezying for my followers.

I took the fucking Ivy.

Oct 24, 2010
32 notes
Anon steez assassin.
Blogs comments or IRL.
You better tighten up that Belstaff, brah.
Cause I’m comin for ya.
Swift and deadly.
Crispy and dangerous.
Hear those footsteps?
Pitter patter on Greenpoint streets.
Was it me?  Won’t know until it’s too late.
I out stunt the shadows.
And cut you down in your American Apparel oxford.
Sell your Visvim moccies on eBay.
More fringe, more tassels, more beads, more money.
Holler at the heritage hitman.
For hire.
I’m on Twitter.
@yourbestdressedworstnightmare
Psych.

Anon steez assassin.

Blogs comments or IRL.

You better tighten up that Belstaff, brah.

Cause I’m comin for ya.

Swift and deadly.

Crispy and dangerous.

Hear those footsteps?

Pitter patter on Greenpoint streets.

Was it me?  Won’t know until it’s too late.

I out stunt the shadows.

And cut you down in your American Apparel oxford.

Sell your Visvim moccies on eBay.

More fringe, more tassels, more beads, more money.

Holler at the heritage hitman.

For hire.

I’m on Twitter.

@yourbestdressedworstnightmare

Psych.

Oct 24, 2010
102 notes
What did you do this weekend?
Watch some anime porn?
Maybe reblog some Sarty pics of an Italian gramps dressed way crispyer than you…
Fucking amateurs.
I was on my roof.
Taking in some killer rays.
Drinking craft beer.
Snapping pics of my Aldies.
I stack kicks like I stack cheddar, son.
This is Jenga steez.
Have you seen my shoes?
Seriously, have you seen my fucking shoes?
I gots kicks for every occasion.
Blogger meet up? Checkmate.
Cigar shell.
Smashing on haters?  In the streets?
Blue suede.
Stealing your biotch?
Indiana Jones orthopedic boots.
No Sketchers shape ups.  It’s too easy.
The list goes on.
I’ve seen you in your Allen Edmonds.
Weakest shit on earth.
You call those shoes?
Did your mom pick them out?
Hanukkah money goes a long way.
Or maybe you got them for your super sweet sixteen.
Get some Aldies and maybe you can holler.
I’ll be on my roof.  With my new DSLR.
Teach me how to use it.
Hi-res stunting.
Snapping pictorals.
Shitting on clowns in Florsheim’s.

What did you do this weekend?

Watch some anime porn?

Maybe reblog some Sarty pics of an Italian gramps dressed way crispyer than you…

Fucking amateurs.

I was on my roof.

Taking in some killer rays.

Drinking craft beer.

Snapping pics of my Aldies.

I stack kicks like I stack cheddar, son.

This is Jenga steez.

Have you seen my shoes?

Seriously, have you seen my fucking shoes?

I gots kicks for every occasion.

Blogger meet up? Checkmate.

Cigar shell.

Smashing on haters? In the streets?

Blue suede.

Stealing your biotch?

Indiana Jones orthopedic boots.

No Sketchers shape ups. It’s too easy.

The list goes on.

I’ve seen you in your Allen Edmonds.

Weakest shit on earth.

You call those shoes?

Did your mom pick them out?

Hanukkah money goes a long way.

Or maybe you got them for your super sweet sixteen.

Get some Aldies and maybe you can holler.

I’ll be on my roof. With my new DSLR.

Teach me how to use it.

Hi-res stunting.

Snapping pictorals.

Shitting on clowns in Florsheim’s.

Oct 23, 2010
627 notes
If style happens in the forest does anyone see it?
My shirt is half-tucked.
My Jeep is all-wheel drive.
I am fully erect.
I’m lost in the woods.
Looking off camera.
At the giant fucking wood chipper.
Glad we cut down this grove of trees for the shoot.
Gonna get so many fucking reblogs.
I am Americana 2.0.
My Manifest Destiny is to be effing crispy.
Where the fuck is my Dark and Stormy?
Oh, you thought cause I’m in the forest I’d be on some flannel and lumberjack shit?
Fuck no bitches.
I’m always one season ahead.
Two drinks over the legal limit.
Three piece suit in the back seat.
Oh man. Dancing on the souls of dead trees.
Wearing my Nanny red cut-offs.
I am the style Lorax. I speak for the steez.
Summer is a verb.
Crispy is an adjective.
Menswear is a noun.

If style happens in the forest does anyone see it?

My shirt is half-tucked.

My Jeep is all-wheel drive.

I am fully erect.

I’m lost in the woods.

Looking off camera.

At the giant fucking wood chipper.

Glad we cut down this grove of trees for the shoot.

Gonna get so many fucking reblogs.

I am Americana 2.0.

My Manifest Destiny is to be effing crispy.

Where the fuck is my Dark and Stormy?

Oh, you thought cause I’m in the forest I’d be on some flannel and lumberjack shit?

Fuck no bitches.

I’m always one season ahead.

Two drinks over the legal limit.

Three piece suit in the back seat.

Oh man. Dancing on the souls of dead trees.

Wearing my Nanny red cut-offs.

I am the style Lorax. I speak for the steez.

Summer is a verb.

Crispy is an adjective.

Menswear is a noun.

Oct 22, 2010
79 notes
I had a dream.
I was Italian.
I was the stallion of steez.
I was the consigliere of crisyness.
I matched my Ferrari’s to my Stubbs.
I matched my speedboats to my ascots.
My women were bespoke, just like my suits.
Double breasted.
Always.
I took hard drugs on holidays.
And holidayed on hard drugs.
Seersucker in the coldest of winters.
Wool flannel in the most sweltering of summers.
In all my sartorial splendor I ravaged the world.
And broke every single rule I saw fit.
Shopping sprees with Willow Smith in Milan.
Racing dirtbikes through the Tuileries Garden with Shia LaBeouf.
I made him cry.
I was your favorite blogger’s favorite blogger’s muse.
Sat front row at fashion week, but I was on my Blackberry the entire time.
And they still invited me back.
Year after year.
Year after year.
Year.
After.
Year.
I had a dream.
I was Italian.
I was the stallion of steez.
I was the consigliere of crisyness.

I had a dream.

I was Italian.

I was the stallion of steez.

I was the consigliere of crisyness.

I matched my Ferrari’s to my Stubbs.

I matched my speedboats to my ascots.

My women were bespoke, just like my suits.

Double breasted.

Always.

I took hard drugs on holidays.

And holidayed on hard drugs.

Seersucker in the coldest of winters.

Wool flannel in the most sweltering of summers.

In all my sartorial splendor I ravaged the world.

And broke every single rule I saw fit.

Shopping sprees with Willow Smith in Milan.

Racing dirtbikes through the Tuileries Garden with Shia LaBeouf.

I made him cry.

I was your favorite blogger’s favorite blogger’s muse.

Sat front row at fashion week, but I was on my Blackberry the entire time.

And they still invited me back.

Year after year.

Year after year.

Year.

After.

Year.

I had a dream.

I was Italian.

I was the stallion of steez.

I was the consigliere of crisyness.

Oct 22, 2010
37 notes
Band of motherfucking Outsiders, baby.  Obviously the dopest dope.
I think the fit model a 13 year old boy from the Philippines.  Or maybe just The Stern-bro himself.
These should fit.  No question.
Drawstrings have been around since the 40’s. Probably.
That’s old enough to keep my heritage gassed up.
Beasting these Hypebeast herbs like it was my day job.
These knee pads get shit poppin’.  Makes you wonder what kinda shit I get into in my free time.
You wanna know? Really? Get the fuck outta here.
Follow me on Twitter.
I was looking for new pants for the winter anyway.  Something that could hang with my Topsizzles.
Check me out, Mom. No socks.
Socks are for pussies.  I don’t care if I get a cold.
Breaking out the blue blazer for this too. No doubt.
Mr. Classy pants, stealing all your bitches and fucking up your blog comments.
That’s how I do.

Band of motherfucking Outsiders, baby. Obviously the dopest dope.

I think the fit model a 13 year old boy from the Philippines. Or maybe just The Stern-bro himself.

These should fit. No question.

Drawstrings have been around since the 40’s. Probably.

That’s old enough to keep my heritage gassed up.

Beasting these Hypebeast herbs like it was my day job.

These knee pads get shit poppin’. Makes you wonder what kinda shit I get into in my free time.

You wanna know? Really? Get the fuck outta here.

Follow me on Twitter.

I was looking for new pants for the winter anyway. Something that could hang with my Topsizzles.

Check me out, Mom. No socks.

Socks are for pussies.  I don’t care if I get a cold.

Breaking out the blue blazer for this too. No doubt.

Mr. Classy pants, stealing all your bitches and fucking up your blog comments.

That’s how I do.

Oct 22, 2010
43 notes
Someone once said, “Two’s a party, but three’s a crowd.” What an asshole.
This isn’t a crowd.  This is a full blown riot.
LA Gear for grown ass men.  I don’t need flashing lights when my gear shines this hard.
That’s right.  That’s me.  All three straps unbuckled.
Don’t stare too long, you might hurt yourself.
Whoops.  I just punched your sprezzatura in the fucking face.  Don’t blame me.  Blame the steez.
When Scotty Shu begs to snap my pic I think I’ll spit on that Soho street.  Probably snatch up Garance while I’m at it.
She’s never seen a player like this.
Never seen monks like this.
Never seen sprezzy like this.

Someone once said, “Two’s a party, but three’s a crowd.” What an asshole.

This isn’t a crowd. This is a full blown riot.

LA Gear for grown ass men. I don’t need flashing lights when my gear shines this hard.

That’s right. That’s me. All three straps unbuckled.

Don’t stare too long, you might hurt yourself.

Whoops. I just punched your sprezzatura in the fucking face. Don’t blame me. Blame the steez.

When Scotty Shu begs to snap my pic I think I’ll spit on that Soho street. Probably snatch up Garance while I’m at it.

She’s never seen a player like this.

Never seen monks like this.

Never seen sprezzy like this.

Oct 22, 2010
35 notes
Really want a RRL bandana.
I am a style pioneer among cattle rustlers.
Probably will use it to wipe off my hands after I re-wax my Barbour jacket while sitting by the campfire in my Bean Boots. Then I’ll take out my iPhone G4 and post a photo to twitter.
Staying up till dawn. Lying in my sleeping bag. Refreshing every five minutes to see if I got any @replies.
This is not a red piece of cloth.
This is not sold online.
This is a lifestyle.
This is #RRL.

Really want a RRL bandana.

I am a style pioneer among cattle rustlers.

Probably will use it to wipe off my hands after I re-wax my Barbour jacket while sitting by the campfire in my Bean Boots. Then I’ll take out my iPhone G4 and post a photo to twitter.

Staying up till dawn. Lying in my sleeping bag. Refreshing every five minutes to see if I got any @replies.

This is not a red piece of cloth.

This is not sold online.

This is a lifestyle.

This is #RRL.

Oct 22, 2010
207 notes
You have to get up early to be this fucking badass.
Crack of dawn steeze.
Hear my fucking call.
I am a Wooster.
The sun is rising and I’m already clownin’ fools. Don’t try this shit at home.
Only the Wooster.
Wearing my Blaze Orange Michael Bastys.
I fuck with menswear and Orange is my safety word.
I am not your Grandpa.
I am not colorblind.
I am not peacocking.
I am a Wooster.

You have to get up early to be this fucking badass.

Crack of dawn steeze.

Hear my fucking call.

I am a Wooster.

The sun is rising and I’m already clownin’ fools. Don’t try this shit at home.

Only the Wooster.

Wearing my Blaze Orange Michael Bastys.

I fuck with menswear and Orange is my safety word.

I am not your Grandpa.

I am not colorblind.

I am not peacocking.

I am a Wooster.

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