I've always been pretty divided on the argument regarding animal products, as PETA is notorious for not playing nice with the pro-fur lot. A recent find at Value Village inadvertently put me in the anti-fur regime for upcoming winter and pushed me to adopt an opposing perspective. This was especially true after I copped this coat - trying it on with heaps of Afghan jewelry and brass helped me to draw parallels from a certain music trio & solidify my confidence in its capabilities. The look could never be my own, though, unless a few disheveled twists were thrown in (hello, Khloe?) and alterations assembled. I may talk the talk, but here my garments speak pointedly on retro motifs & more of that McCartney vibe that I touched on in the spring. 
Reppin' mules & silk, fureva eva
My infatuation with split seams is unceasing - I added more of these on the inner leg of a Ralph Lauren trouser and stepped clean with a Josephine Chause blouse (darting not included). The points on my mules are so mathematically sharp that they could almost serve double duty as a sidearm (gotta stay strapped from where I'm from). 

I took notes from Khloe & Allesandro when I stamped my feelings on the backside in matted Krylon. Deploying the look in this way drew polarizing opinions from some friends and peers, but I remain committed to creative expression regardless of the outcome. 

I'm labeling this aesthetic under the header "spray & pray". It wouldn't capture that full Decatur-esque nuance unless it's christened this way. 
Take care! 

That gaming reference in the title can be slightly misleading, as so much of my inspiration for art/design sentimentality is rooted in form and improvisation. It's that ability to channel chance and funnel risk into my ensembles that keep my creativity nuanced and original. I've never pretended to have a set-in-stone process or methodology for how I approach those either. Those indiscriminate reference points that  I wrestle with gradually segue into my own faiseurs de feu - fiery beacons of sartorial brilliance. It's no wonder then that my latest foray into footwear plucks analogies from those raw, visceral roots of artistry that initially plague any creative working a new task. I pared down my sketches and kicked off the project as a response to those white flats in my previous post getting scuffed and looking sad af. I found a Sharpie Magnum near the river (big ups to the Chattahoochee for that) and I let my mind give direction to the rest. 

Fur, silk and (now) curiously large permanent markers have found
their way onto my late-20s roster of vices.
I bear no shame in my shoe game.
That wavy ass pajama top that I got all nautical with in March takes a backseat for this ensemble. I'm also still not quite done with that polished-bundle-of-clothes aesthetic and what I've started to term "dad sleeves".  The bottom half of that set lead the charge here and I'd happily conduct business in whole ass pajamas if decorum didn't exist. Again, Value Village deserves heaps of praise, as the pants and top of that set me back an absurd $6! My Singer takes care of the rest with a close, tapered leg and roomy thigh.

A white men's Bill Blass top caps off the look (french cuffs are now highly relevant). It took quite a bit of mental dexterity to keep this outfit from looking too gauche and frumpy, but as my approach to it was reactionary, I threw rules outta the window midway and let things fly.

I still can't believe that my biggest marker for success also happens to be the biggest one that I've ever owned (or written with).

Take care! 

Let me follow through with the disclaimer that anyone attempting to advance their style cues on this oversized train should tread lightly. Crossing over to the other side (aesthetically speaking) requires dodging innumerable pitfalls and sticking true to your wits. We're wearing clothes, after all.

For myself, I'd say that I jumped into the mix a bit late this year. When Kanye dropped "Through The Wire" in 2004 and stoked the masses with shutter shades, I was happily neck deep in tall tees and workwear pants. Everything on me was roomy enough to accommodate for conditions in any setting, whether they be tucked in to appease the parents or slung ankle-length for full-on D4L vibes. I was covered, literally and otherwise.

It's ironic how trends in the industry remain cyclical, almost iterative. It took for Raf to riff on prep and Browne to drag sleeves to the floor before I could get the courage to toe that line once again. A few visits to Value Village and late night rap sessions with a particular beauty goddess (<3) kindled that creative flame enough to let my outfits speak volumes.  (to be clear, I like to think of her as my future better half).
Poe quoted in this short story that "one extreme induces another". Succinct phraseology for situations resting outside of literature, such as this, perfectly encapsulate that nuance that I wanted to channel for this project. I roped in a bit of womenswear inspiration via Stella McCartney here, just to keep the look unique enough to slay wack emcees. I've never seen a split leg trouser for guys and I can't exactly justify a full car payment for MCCartney fare. 

these Rue 21 slip-ons are made from nubuck and cost the same as a double-shot from Starbucks. Get 4 and thank me later!
If the proportions seem exaggerated, you can rest easy - anyone could easily raid their older sibling or dad's closet and have a field day with this stuff. After all, advanced style visuals like this should be treated like guideposts, not as a set-in-stone standby that you reference from boredom. Play around and give yourself room to breathe. 

It's story time! Well, sort of. There's an age-old tale at my alma mater (GSW) that ties in with the inspiration behind the silky oeuvres seen below. Back in the prehistoric days of my freshman year in college (2006), the young and hilariously naive Terrance ran into his very first first-world problem: no access to the internet.

Yes, you've read that correctly.

I spent the first 38 days of college with no access to the internet or any form of online communication. Now, five weeks may seem tolerable and even cathartic for some, but for someone that schlepped to and from classes only to find that his hall was still without access, it had an effect.

In some ways, it could be seen as my sartorial awakening. I became the guy that swapped Girbaud denim and AF1 mid-tops for pajama sets and oxfords (let me mention here that no matter how unkempt I became, I always kept at least ONE rakish element on tap). So even after access was restored on my hall in the second month of school, the PJ habit was excruciatingly hard to drop, (think back to how Hedi slimmed everything up at YSL and how difficult it is to separate rocker glam from that label - the look is virtually ingrained in its DNA) so naturally, word spread. Rumors and hearsay suddenly launched me into an unexpected bubble of celebrity on campus. I even had a guy message me in the following spring to wax on about best practices in pairing a PJ set with his huaraches. From that point on, I was dubbed "Pajama Boy".

| my face when buddy HAD to add in the huaraches |
Eleven years have passed since that juncture in my life. I'm happy to report that every subsequent year following that ordeal, I've had access. Since we're still just starting to welcome the embraces of spring, and especially so at a time where the industry is in a maximalist high, I decided to go back to my roots and channel those same vibes. 

All of that briny loucheness that I evoked in this shoot is totally justified, considering that I shot these manually on the river. I guess it's never felt so good to be slept on.

Take care!

Terrance J.