Author: StyleForDorks.com

I'm a style-writer, teacher and director of experiential education at a high school in San Francisco.

5 Stylish Ways to Spend Your Tax Refund

According to the internet, the average tax refund (in the state of California), is $2,900.

Let’s assume that you will require two thousand dollars for boring things like student loans, your credit card bill, and cat food.

That leaves you $900 to Tax-Refundify your Style. What should you do with it?

1. Get a pair of Allen Edmonds McTavish shoes.

Do they call you “Styley-shoe Wearin’ McGreggor?”

Why:

Allen Edmonds is a company from Wisconsin. Great things come from Wisconsin.

Sprechers beer is from Wisconsin.

Harley Davidson is from Wisconsin.

The University of Wisconsin is from Wisconsin.

I am from Wisconsin.

If that’s not enough to convince you: with Allen Edmonds, you’re getting a handmade, “legacy-quality” shoe (years from now, you will still have them while being nostalgic for the time when you got them). On the other hand, you’re not going to pay $600 dollars for them.

Beyond that, though Allen Edmonds had become something of an old-man’s shoe (bought and worn by U.S. WWII servicemen who wore them during the Big One, and kept them on for years after), recently, the company renewed its image with a number of models that are shockingly stylish.

If this pair of Neumok doesn’t bring tears of joy to your eyes, then picture how the person who made it lived in Wisconsin and received a great wage and safe working conditions; picture him finishing the final stitch in the fully repairable sole and heading off to quaff a Sprecher Black Bavarian with his unionized brethren.

You’ll want a pair, too.

How:

Allen Edmonds has frequent clearance sales, bringing the cost down nearly to the level of a mass-produced Chinese-made shoe. But because they’re made so well, eBay is full of Allen Edmonds shoes that outlived their owners whims, despite being in excellent condition, and they can be picked up for a C-note and change.

If you really want to be a #Styledork and abuse the privileges of the internet, order a pair from Zappos, ensure you like the fit and style, and buy the same pair on eBay for somewhere around 100 bucks.

(A few years from now, consider buying a new pair. The entire state of Wisconsin will thank you for it.)

2. Invest in a proper hair cut

Well, if it’s 1984…

Why:

Some years ago, in a grad-school class on Post-Modernsim and Pedagogy (don’t ask), we watched and read about Docker’s ad campaign: “Nice Pants.”

The idea here is that men want pants that don’t make their hinders look like sacks of potatoes.

The problem is that men also don’t want to talk about pants.

They don’t want to talk about fit or cut or style or stitching or pockets or whatever, and you know why.

They want the procuring of said pants to be as easy and casual – just like Docker’s pseudo-compliment-slogan: “nice pants.”

The problem is that your pants can make you look like an Alpha (like the guys in this Alpha Khakis ad), or like a middle school kid whose body hasn’t quite sorted things out, yet.

So, the solution is to buy a pair of pants that are masculine and simple and classic and clean and we shouldn’t talk about that any more.

Which brings me to the subject of haircuts.

Men feel the exact same way about haircuts as they do about pants.

Men need a good hair cut.

Men are often very hesitant to spend too much time looking for one.

But even more than your butt, which will never be seen in any photos for any online dating sites, your head is pretty much the main-attraction. So it needs to look good.

A good haircut will make people at work, who look at you every single day, go: “Hey! Lookin’ good!”

You will not get that haircut at Supercuts, Cheapcuts, Cut-n-go, or Paynothingforyourcut. You will need to spend about $70.00 for your amazing cut.

How:

Unless you have friend who swears by his $70.00 stylist, use Yelp. Do not worry about the price. Pick a place or a stylist that is highly rated.

Walk in, take the first stylist who’s available, and use this script:

“I’m looking for something different. I just got a new job / new girlfriend / I’m flying to L.A. to pitch a script / I’m going on a book tour [pick ONE of these. NOT all of them] and I am ready for a new look.

Then, whatever the stylist asks you for your preferences, say, “Go for it, I trust you.”

When s/he is done, you may think, “Great. My head is ruined.”

But when you get to work the next day, you will need three hands to count the “Hey! Lookin’ good!”s you will hear.

If not, hair grows back, so wait 3 months and repeat the process.

One last suggestion: a good haircutter is an artist. While many advocate for telling the stylist exactly what you want, the reason I am writing this blog and you are reading it is that I spent a really long time before I even knew what I wanted, and perhaps you’re somewhere in that process.

Let the artist do his/her work.

3. Get a suit, for God’s sake.

Why:

When I wear a suit to work, quite often I will get a friendly compliment, followed by the question: what’s the occasion?

The occasion, my friends, is that you are not sitting around the house in sweat-pants, playing Pac-man and eating Pringles.

You are a man, going off to work, to kick ass. Even if your job is not kick-ass, per se.

And that is why you are wearing a suit.

The thing you have in your closet, incidentally, which you bought from Men’s Wearhouse seven years ago is not actually a suit. It’s a costume for weddings.

Here is my definition of a suit:

It must fit you impeccably.

That’s it.

The three main areas where men’s suits fail their owners are:

Symptom A: The pants pool up around the ankles.

Cause A: The pants are too long

Symptom B: A thin band of shirt cuff doesn’t peek out of the sleeves.

Cause B: The sleeves are too long.

Symptom C: You look like you just returned from a business trip to the 90s.

Cause C: The lapels are too wide.

Symptom D: You don’t look slim and dashing.

Cause D: Your jacket is too long.

Symptom E: You look like you just walked out of Men’s Wearhouse

Cause E: You just walked out of Men’s Wearhouse.

The Cure: Get a proper suit and have it tailored properly.

How:

You are going to embark on an exciting adventure called, “Getting measured by someone with a tape measure and trying on a lot of suits.”

The tape-measure-person is available at any department store or tailor. It’s free.

As for trying on the suits, this is where gilt.com and myhabit.com come in.

You are going to skip over Calvin Klein, Tommy Hilfiger, and DKNY. For now, skip Brooks Brothers (unless you know what you’re doing, you’ll look like a banker) and Banana Republic / J. Crew (you already know about them, and you’re trying something new).

You will try suits by Theory, Ben Sherman, Hugo Boss, ETRO, Paul Smith, and maybe even by Jack Spade, Luca Roda, and GANT Rugger.

You are going to order suits made by labels you’ve never heard of and return all of them until you find one you love.

They will be marked $300-600.

They will not be black. They will be grey or plaid. Yes, plaid.

You may find that you are a size smaller than you expected. Your proper size might even contain an S next to the number – for “short.”

[Wait, hear me out. This doesn’t mean YOU are short, it means you want the suit to look amazing. Suits, now, are slimmer and shorter than when you were a best man in whats-his-name’s wedding.]

Once you find it, have it altered by a respected tailor (again, Yelp). If it’s done right, you will see a teeny bit of sock, and your shirt-cuffs will peek past the sleeves; you will look amazing.

Do NOT wear this amazing, new shirt with crappy, old dress shoes or with sneakers, thinking that’s what the cool kids are doing. Wear it with your new Allen Edmonds.

Wear it to work once a week.

When someone asks what’s the occasion, you know what to say.

4. Buy a thin, non-silk tie

Knit tie. Thin Lapels. Ready for the 2014 Fiscal-Fashion Year.

Why:

All those ties you have are probably too thick and too shiny.

Thick ties are from a life-cycle ago, and should be donated to the Salvation Army, along with your NES and the barbells you bought at a rummage sale while in college.

Shiny ties, meanwhile, are often plucked from the pile-o-ties at Mens Wearhouse, Brooks Brothers, and Kohls. And the only difference between them, in my opinion, is the price.

It’s time to move on to cotton and woven ties.

These ties say, “I am a boss. But I am not the boss from Office Space.“

How:

Get your woven tie at the Tie Bar.com. It will cost less then the entree at a decent restaurant, and if you wear it with your sharp, new suit, you will look like you work for a hip design firm. Stay away from TieBar.com’s cotton and wool ties, which look, in my opinion, cheap.

Stay also away from Ben Sherman and Penguin ties. Some of them are great (I own a few nice ones), but most are skinny versions of the shiny “pile-o-ties” tie.

Get your cotton tie from bonobos.com, gilt.com or myhabit.com. Find a design that’s fresh and light: for example, this chambray tie and this gingham tie will go with the new suit or with jeans and a white oxford shirt. Actually, it will go with anything. So buy it and wear it a lot.

Check out cotton and wool ties also from Alexander Olch and Pierrepoint Hicks.

5. Get one gingham shirt and one chambray shirt

The vertical stripes with big barrel cuffs looked great 10 years ago.

Now, it’s patterns and materials with a bit of “Americana”: enter the chambray shirt and the gingham shirt.

Why:

Both look amazing with your new suit and dress shoes, and both look amazing with jeans and a corduroy jacket.

Both are masculine and yet refined, a little bit rugged, and a little bit classy. Perfect.

How:

You know how you have shirts in your closet which, when you need to look good, you go to them? You can count on them? You look great in them?

Why is that?

Well, it’s not because of the pattern. (A white oxford shirt is my go-to.)

It’s because your “knock-em-dead” shirt probably fits better than your other shirts.

Buy your gingham and chambray shirts wherever, but be prepared to have them tailored (to the tune of 20-40 dollars each).

Many men don’t realize that when clothes are too big, it makes them look less put together.

Slimmer is nearly always more flattering.

Unless you’re a big dude, or you find a “slim cut” (which you should look for), you may need to have the sleeves shortened and the back brought in so you will cut a fine silhouette.

You would be amazed at what a proper fitting shirt does for you, and how many of the shirts in your closet do not do that.

One bonus of this tax-refund Stylification is that now you have a tailor who can make even your blousy, baggy shirts look great. Tax bonus!

* – * – *

Those are my top-five stylish ways to spend your tax refund. If you had a hundred bucks left over, what would you do with it?

If my ties could talk

If my ties could talk, they’d have a story to tell.

Tie #1. Purchased at Target, 1998. Paid for by my mother.

1999: Atlanta, GA My second teaching job. Still, my first tie.

If my tie could talk, it would tell you that it was the first tie that I (Evan) ever picked out for myself – meaning, not a hand-me-down from my old man.

I was heading off to grad-school overseas. My mother took me to Target and treated me to $250 worth of baggy jeans, camp shirts, and a few “nice things” – e.g. the tie.

I was 28, but I still dressed like I did in college.

I’d never held a job for more than an academic year. My only marketable ability was a decent Kermit-the-Frog impression.

My relationship to clothing: fear and awe.

As an adolescent, I’d always felt inadequate in a department store. The whole concept of Style was over my head and physicially, nothing fit. In middle school, I somehow managed to be chubby and scrawny at the same time. I discovered bugle-boy chinos and bad-dog T-shirts at the precise moment I discovered girls; this coincided with the discovery that my total lack of confidence was going to be a problem.

As a 10th grader, style was mired in the same early 90’s absurdity that brought the first Gulf War and Michael Bolton.

I busted into African dashikis. Long hair. I played in rock bands. I played A D & D. I learned how to create a costume as a form of revolt. It was sartorial survival.

Fifteen years later, in my first teaching job, looking like a grown-up was the goal.

If my tie could talk, it would tell you that it was a classic (a Repp tie is as classic as a tie can be, but I didn’t know that at the time). But when paired with the first “fashion forward” glasses I’d ever worn, it was a little ironic.

How coincidental.

Tie #2 Purchased at Kohl’s Department Store, 2006. Paid for by my father.

I am a disco. San Francisco, 2006.

If my tie could talk, it would tell you that it was the first “far-out” tie I’d ever owned. It was gold and black and combined with a gold-ish colored shirt, I think I imagined that I looked a little like a professional Disco Ball. Trust me, the colors popped.

At the time, I owned a yellow MINI Cooper. I would crank Salsa music while I drove through San Francisco. I was in my fifth year of teaching. There was magic. I loved teenagers and their attitudes and I loved having a persona that was all at once “me” and bigger than me.

It felt safe to be loud.

If my tie could talk, it would tell you how I began to take a selfie (they weren’t called “selfies” yet) every day, because I wanted to remember. What shirt went with which tie. Maybe also, I wanted to see – what did it look like to feel good?

In the morning, I’d put on my pedagogical disco-gear and think, “It takes confidence to rock a look like this.”

Tie #3 Purchased at Soul to Soul, San Francisco, 2010. Paid for with store credit. Made by Nobis.

2010: My first skinny tie. A look I might have stolen from Best Buy’s Geek Squad.

If my tie could talk, it would tell you about how I was half a year out from a significant break-up. I started thinking about first impressions. What did I look like when I walked into a bar for a first date? I figured that even a thoughtful, “authentic” person still would see me before they would talk to me. My ties got skinnier. I got some nice shoes. But it was difficult to imagine myself as — um, marketable.

I started dating a woman who’d never seen Revenge of the Nerds, one of my old favorites. She was unimpressed, but more interestingly, she was confused; the “Jocks” were dressed and groomed like castrated Ken-Dolls, while the “Nerds” looked like they were ready to form an excellent indie-rock band.

In our post Steve-Jobs / Bill Gates world, most people don’t remember how the word was once pejorative. Those of us who grew up not as beautiful people learned to fear the word. It was sneered before a locker-room beating, shouted by pursuers.

Only years later, like other dehumaizing epithets, was it reclaimed.

It became something to be proud of.

If my tie could talk, it would tell you how I was learning to radiate confidence.

I learned to flush vestiges of Nerd-shame from my system, and I learned to tie a bow-tie.

2011: My first bow-tie. Nerdy-edgy.

Nerdy. Edgy. Proud.

Tie #4

Purchased online at Bonobos.com, 2011. Got some sort of discount.

2011: Wool. Simple. Fancy.

If my tie could talk, it would tell you about how I was collecting a lot of clothes. If I was a famous painter, some docent in a museum would point to my selfies and say, “This was a period of incredible creativity for Wolkenstein.”

It was a time of anxiety. Hope. I dated a lot. I worried about the future.

I invented a number of looks. I made many, many style mistakes.

I know. I have pictures to prove it.

Once in a while, though, I got excited about simplicity.

This tie is blue / black, made of fine Japanese wool, and looks good with everything.

If my tie could talk, it would tell you that I was learning not to be afraid of being classic.

Tie #5

Purchased on Gilt.com, 2012. Band of Outsiders.

Band of Outsiders. 2012.

If my tie could talk, it would tell you about how I’d started dating a woman way out of my league.

I mean, she wouldn’t have said that, but I was only a celebrity within the relatively narrow confines of Jewish Education. She was a published author with a TV show on the way.

I wasn’t trying to use clothes to hide. Or to spark a riot. Or to overturn a version of myself I wasn’t happy with.

I was enjoying exploring my late 30s. I was great at my job. I was playing with new ideas, new concepts, every day in the classroom. I was drawing. Writing.

My tie would tell you, I was nearly ready to open the doors.

Tie #6

Out of my league with both tie and girlfriend. Thom Browne. 2013.

Purchased at Black Fleece, San Francisco.

Some years earlier, on my weekly run down Fillmore Street, I’d seen a colleague in a store called Black Fleece.

This colleague and friend had also been a mentor of sorts during my early days of style-awakening. Every day, I’d pestered him with questions. Why doesn’t this go with that? Why DOES this go with that?

He would offer guidance and ideas and sometimes wrinkle his face with distaste, but he always encouraged me to think of Style as being IMPORTANT. It’s the first thing people see when they look at you.

How can that not be important?

Jogging by, that day, I’d seen him through the door. To say hello, I took a detour into the most beautiful store I’d ever been in.

Yes, it was expensive. But that wasn’t it.

It had it’s own Style. Classy yet edgy. Apologetically bold and yet refined. Totally “in your face,” and yet – riffing off blue-nearly-black, white, and red.

I didn’t know this at the time, but it’s designed by the amazing Thom Browne.

Around that time, I began to know, deeply and fully, that Style wasn’t about what you wear, but who you are.

Style is about stripping off what you’ve always worn because you’ve always wanted to play it safe, and stepping into the shoes of who you’ve always wished you could be. Style is about pride. Loving yourself. Expressing yourself. Playing with the fantasy of the future.

Style is about reflecting. Sometimes in front of the mirror. Acknowledging what’s already perfect about you. Noticing what you’d like to change.

Style is about not being afraid to make mistakes.

Style is about feeling as attractive as you actually are – to your significant other, and to the World.

Style is about asking for opinions and only sometimes following them.

Style is not something you learn.

Style is about who you already are.

My tie could tell you…Style is not for the beautiful people.

Style is for dorks.

15 Things to Throw Out. Now.

Marching Orders: Get up, go to your closet, and start making a pile. This is not the “try it on, one last time” pile. That pile always ends up back in the closet for another year. This is the proceed to Salvation Army and give it to someone who needs it more than you do.

Sympathy: Look, I get it. Ten years ago, those shoes were very cool. Or maybe they weren’t cool, but other people wore them. So they were “a thing.” Or maybe there’s a story attached to that tie or that jacket: you wore it when you graduated from college! It was a gift from someone you love. It retailed for $1,000 and you got it for $25! It doesn’t fit right, but you love the color.

No Sympathy: It doesn’t look good.

The List: I’ve owned every last thing listed below. I survived. You can, too.

A hybrid shoe! “Doesn’t look good” crossed with “doesn’t go with anything.”

1. Any sort of slip-on hybrid shoe. These shoes are essentially fancy Crocs, and I’m going to waste your time talking about Crocs, since now [clears throat] you only wear Crocs to the beach. And even that isn’t a good idea. As long as I’m at it, if the leather shoes you wear to work incorporate sporty-hybrid elements, get rid of them. 2. Any shirt where the seam falls below the beginning of the slope of your shoulders. As a man, your shoulders are your best feature, and they can compensate for anything else about you that you don’t love. But they can’t do anything for you when your shirt seams are midway down your arms.

The “Sweet Spot” to make your manly shoulders stand up and say, “Whassup!”

3.T shirts with writing. You can donate both the Hulkamania Tshirt AND the irony to the Salvation Army.

4. Shoes with squared off toes. One word for you: platypus.

5. Running shoes / sneakers that you use for anything other than running / sneaking. The exceptions are Chuck Taylor / Converse sneakers because, if they are in decent shape, they are the tofu of the shoe world (they take on the flavor of anything you serve them with). Also, New Balance old- school sneakers because, unfortunately, it’s in (although becoming cliche) to wear them with blazers and the like.

6. White socks that you wear with anything other than the running shoes / sneakers while you are actually running / sneaking. Get some striped socks.

7. Pants where the hem of the pants hits your shoes and causes your pant legs to pool up. Those need to be tailored. Probably thrown out.

8. Khaki shorts. You will never wear khaki shorts with a tucked in polo shirt, running shoes, and white socks pulled up. Ever again. I call that look “Uncle Russ at the BBQ.”

Uncle Russ at the BBQ

9. Navy blue suit jackets which you try to pull off as a blazer. As long as I’m talking about blazers, I don’t care what size you are, you need to get fitted by a tailor. You should learn the NUMBER and the SIZE. For example, I’m a size 36 SHORT which is a Small. Only one in 500 jackets fits me. But I’m armed with that knowledge, and knowledge is half the battle.

Shiny, silk-ties are about as cool as your friend, Jacob, on his bar-mitzvah day.

10. Shiny Silk Ties. If your tie is shiny and silk, and probably picked up from a department store, then you should give it to your nephew for his Bar Mitzvah and replace it with something cotton (for summer) or wool (for winter).

11. Baggy Jeans. The 90’s called. They want their “The 90s called, they want their xyz joke” back.

12. Anything with epaulets, those roll-up sleeve holders, or unnecessary stitching. All three say, “Hi. I’m a Douche-bag. Care for a red-bull and vodka?”

13. Anything (especially shirts) that are a little too big. If it’s a little too big, it’s A LOT TOO BIG.

14. Snap-back baseball hats. Invest 10 more dollars for a fitted cap and only wear it when you’re at a little-league game.

15. Old-man caps except for one style: the 6 Paneled Ivy. Everyone looks good in one of those. (The worst old-man cap, by the way, is called a driving cap, and unless you’re an old-man, you shouldn’t wear it.)

Cesi na pas une “hep-cat.”

Reassurance: You’re on your way to Salvation Army with two duffel bags worth of clothing you love but should never wear again. The only thing you have to wear now is underwear. So, for a week, walk around in your striped boxer-briefs with than zen-feeling that everything in life is impermanent, including not being in style.

That phase, for you, is over.

Get ready to get stylish.

Style For Dorks

What this blog IS NOT:

It’s not for connoisseurs, fashionistos, or people who are “fashion foward.”

It’s not full of “clothing-porn.” No close-ups of of fancy fabrics – no donegal, no tattersoll. Whatever that is.

It will have zero shots of metrosexual models imitating poses copped from GQ.

It will not talk much about what is “in,” nor what is “right now.”

It will not fawn over incredibly expensive, Italian labels – nor extol the wonders of $300 work-shirts from boutiques that smell like Musk mixed with Road Tar.

* * *

Who this blog is for:

You saw a few episodes of Mad Men and you wondered how you can look that sharp without drinking your first Manhattan before 11am.

You used to play 8-hour Dungeons and Dragons campaigns in your friend’s basement – and you’re moderately concerned that this biographical nugget from the past isn’t hard to believe, purely based on how you continue to dress, fifteen years later.

You like to learn new things, but you’ve never learned much about style. You prefer to learn new coding language, but you could be persuaded to learn something about the power of a knit tie.

You prefer to prioritize the practical over the obsessive. As in, “How do I dress sharper without too much fuss?”

Your girlfriend / wife / significant other sometimes comments about how nice you’d look in [fill in the blank]. You generally say something along the lines of, “Mm-hm.”

You have a big date coming up. Or a big meeting. You just got a big promotion…or want to dress like you deserve one.

You’re turning 30. Or 40.

* * *

What we’re going to do here

1. Simple lists of things to donate to the closest Salvation Army.

2. Simple lists of things to buy two of.

3. Some guidelines for how to put together a decent outfit. And some guidelines for how to put together an outfit that will nab a double take from the right person.

4. An occasional link to a good deal.

5. A smattering of style nerdiness in case you’re curious.

I’m not going to hold your hand – but I will guard the fitting room door.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: