Going Out In Style: 30 DAYS OF WRITING. EPISODE 11/30
My grandfather: would've been buried in a box-backed suit, straight laced shoes and a Stetson hat if traditional Jewish law allowed it.

My grandfather in 1929: would’ve been buried in a box-backed suit, straight laced shoes and a Stetson hat if traditional Jewish law allowed it.

This is day 11 of a New Year’s Resolution.

When I die, bury me in straight laced shoes,
A box backed suit and a Stetson hat
Put a 20 dollar gold piece on my watch chain;
So the boys’ll know I died standin’ pat.

-St. James Infirmary

The first time I heard Louis sing that song, I was 15, only a few years after my grandfather died. I was impressed by the upbeat, even cheerful melody in the face of the maudlin lyrics. And I was impressed by the idea of a man who wanted to be buried in his box-backed suit and Stetson hat because life, after he was gone, went on.

My grandfather was a very dapper man. My dad recalls that Gramps would’ve donned a fine suit to go to the zoo, a quirk of dandiness that I have preserved to this day, with slight variations. 

After he died, sitting in his condo, I felt (besides terrible loss) a sense of togetherness and community I hardly knew how to identify. We were all there, eating and shmoozing and being sad-happy, and I discovered that I really liked the “Being Jewish On Purpose” thing. Twenty-five years later, looking at my life, my years of building intentional community and years of learning and then teaching Jewish studies, I see that Gramps left me a legacy in his dying.

Just as he lived in style, he went out in style.

Unless you are Cameron Frye or my Uncle David, pick: suspenders or belt. Not both.

Unless you are Cameron Frye or my Uncle David, pick: suspenders or belt. Not both.

My Uncle David was no dapper man. He preferred loose and comfortable polo shirts, work pants, and wore both suspenders and a belt (a look you should not try unless you are Cameron Frye).  

But his funeral and shiva have brought about a few things that I appreciate in the face of this loss. One: an echo of that same togetherness I felt when Gramps passed away, twenty-five years ago.

Two, while the elders were at the funeral home making arrangements, David’s grandsons (my first cousins once removed) and I got to spend a rare day together. Brunch. Bowling. Shopping. Video games. Conversation.

David was not a stylish man, but like Gramps, he’s going out in style.

First cousins, once removed.

First cousins, once removed. We wouldn’t be sitting here, reconnecting, if not for this unexpected “gift” from Uncle David.

Two Uncles In My Genes: 30 DAYS OF WRITING. EPISODE 10/30

chairThis is day 10 of a New Year’s Resolution.

If you’re keeping up with this 30 day write-o-rama, you know I’m in Milwaukee doing the serious business of grieving the passing of my Uncle in the way that Jews do: we eat. We tell stories. We nag each other.

My father and mother picked me up at the airport, we bought some frozen custard (my Uncle’s favorite), and we brought it to my Aunt and Uncle’s condo. There, in the living room sat my Uncle’s chair. I suppose it’s no longer actually my Uncle’s living room or my Uncle’s chair, but memories linger. Old Jewish texts describe the soul of the deceased person leaving the body and kind of… hanging around for a while. The mourners say kaddish (the original, not the Ginsberg poem), we’ll wait a year before we dedicate a tombstone — we make space for those who are gone to be “not gone.” 

Which in turn reminds me of the joke: What’s the difference between how Jews and Goyim say goodbye? Goyim leave without saying goodbye, but Jews say goodbye and don’t leave.

Well, jingoistic jokes aside, my Uncle was there, and when I said goodbye (and left), I shouted to the room full of relatives: goodnight everyone, see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Uncle David.

billAnother Uncle visited me tonight, one who’s been gone/not gone a long time. My Uncle Bill died suddenly, over ten years ago – I got the call while I was leading a group of 9th graders on a ropes course.

Supposedly, I am a lot like him. He had an odd-ball sense of humor, adored jazz, and was nimble with a drawing pen.

When my parents and I got home from the shiva, tonight, they told me they had a gift for me. Inside a flat package was a picture frame, and there, in black and white, was a well-dressed man. My parents had found the old photo in a drawer and had it restored and framed.

“We know that family is very much about sharing genes,” said my father. “But it’s also very much about sharing jeans.”

tieandsweaterbillselfonlyv8Behold the family resemblance. Scary, huh? The striped sweater, the jeans, the wide cuffs.

To my Uncle David; may every comfy chair I sit in remind me of you. And to my Uncle Bill, may every joke I tell be… off the cuffs.

Weekend Look #2 (or, Why You Should Wear a Blazer to the Airport): 30 Days of Writing. Episode 9/30

fullfhotThis is day 9 of a New Year’s Resolution.

Coming home from work, we take off the work clothes and we put on the comfy-clothes. Jeans. T-shirt. Sneakers. And for many, that’s what they wear (or some version of that) from Friday evening to Sunday night.

But many of us leave the comforts of the sofa and venture out into the world. We go out for brunch, we take walks, maybe if we live in the Bay Area, we take a little road trip and do a little wine tasting. Or maybe we need to catch an early flight  and while we’d like to look styley in row 23, we don’t want it to be at the expense of comfort.

“We” clearly need to find something that walks the line. Or the horizontal stripes, as the case may be.

On the one hand, you can do one of my favorite looks: the causal sweater and tie. Paired with dark denim, you’ll be sitting in coach, better dressed than anyone in first class.

closeupBut if you’re not in the mood for a sweater, try this one: pair some dark-patterned pants (slim fitting and properly tailored) with a polo shirt (again, slim fitting — stick to black, white, or navy). Add a pair of Chuck Taylors and the final touch, your Styley-Yet-Comfy Banner of Victory: the Knit Blazer.

Knit blazers are a hybrid a blazer/jacket and either a sweater or a (wait for it) sweatshirt. Yes, a blazer can be made of sweatshirt material. That’s like ice cream being made of Pizza. Too good to be true. But it is true. Roll the sleeves up for a “yes, there’s turbulence, but I’m nonchalant about it” look. Pop the collar for a “yes, I know I need to put my laptop in its own bin” look.

You’ll look so well put together, you might bag a complimentary ginger-ale. Or maybe the phone number of a jet-setting Food Blogger. And if nothing else, It’ll protect your elbows from the hairy arms of the guy in 23B.

Give Your Shoes a Fast Upgrade: NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION — 30 DAYS OF WRITING. EPISODE 8/30

laces2 This is day 8 of a New Year’s Resolution.

In the 1950s, industrialists were interested in studying productivity and the effects of lighting.

They added extra lights to the factory floor, and productivity increased. Once the study was over, productivity slumped.

The experimenters took away light to see what the effect on productivity could be. Again, a surge – and when the study was over, a slump.

As it turned out, whatever the experimenters did increased productivity.  And conversely, when the workers knew that the observation was over, that no one was looking at them, productivity tapered off.

cool shoes and lacesIt seemed that light was not the factor. Being watched was the factor.

Let’s say you’re not going to go out and get new black dress shoes. But you wouldn’t mind a little attention below the ankle, so to speak. How do you turn up the lights and add productivity? Get noticed?

Like the scientists did – make a change, a simple one. Put on some colored laces.

Start with blue or red. Later on, yellow, green, or purple. See how it puts an extra glide in your stride.

You can drop a lot of money, unnecessarily, on colored laces, and you can also get them super cheap… and they’ll look cheap. These are right in the sweet spot, the price of a cappuccino, from Johnston and Murphy.

Grieving in the Age of the Selfie: NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION — 30 DAYS OF WRITING. EPISODE 7/30
Apprehensive.

Apprehensive.

This is day 6 of a New Year’s Resolution.

An hour ago, when I said goodbye to my Uncle, it was really goodbye.

He might make it through the night. Maybe. But there is no other conversation to be had when the patriarch of your family wishes you a good life and tells you to “take care, kid.”

This has been a year of loss. Close family friends have lost wives and mothers. My parents lost a close friend. But all of these were sudden and traumatic and tragic and the Facebook threads show shock and grief and deep discombobulation.

This is different. It’s just as sad, but my Uncle knows he’s about to die, and he wanted to say goodbye, and so I knew this was my last call. I got to say everything. Everything that matters, in the end.

Reminiscing.

Reminiscing.

I had my phone, my laptop, my sunset, my quiet office.

I was wearing a suit.

 What does a Style Blogger have to say about death?

Crying isn’t something I do very often, but when I do, it’s not a pretty sight. I cry every year on Yom HaZikaron, when I remember two friends killed in a terrorist attack at Hebrew University when we were all too young and too far from home to die.

I cried, witnessing my hopes and fears as a teacher acted out on stage by a brilliant theater-improv group.

I cried when my journal was stolen.

Realizing.

Realizing.

I cried after the last episode of Battlestar Galactica. 

All of these have one thing in common – unabashed, unashamed expressions of my true self, my deepest being. And in every case, while deeply vulnerable, I am also safe. I am held in the hands of my community, my friends, and the Lords of Kobol (or the One True God, depending on whether you’re a human or Cylon sympathizer).

flowerMany think that style is about artifice. It is not. It is about capturing what is inside you and wearing it on your sleeve, so to speak, in a way that others might see and understand who you are before you say a word, before you lift a finger.

Saying goodbye.

Saying goodbye.

In that sense, my suit – a tan suit with a blue, polka dot shirt, a cheerful red lapel flower, and a slightly mussed haircut — was the perfect thing to wear while saying goodbye to my Uncle.

He was composed. Like my suit. He was organized. Like my polka dots. And he was cheerful. Like my flower.

I was the one who sobbed like a teenager should but can’t.

I’m glad I wore this today, and I’m glad I had my laptop nearby.

I’m glad Uncle David was my Uncle, and I’ll be sad when he’s gone.

Deep inside.

Grieving.

I’m glad that I laughed and I made him laugh, I’m glad that I got to say goodbye.

And just as I felt for the crew of the Battlestar Galactica after their long and exciting and painful journey, I’m happy my Uncle is going home.

Collecting.

Reflecting.

Reflecting.

Ten Things I Wish I’d Known About Style, 10 Years Ago: NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION — 30 DAYS OF WRITING. EPISODE 6/30
I've learned a few things since 2005.

I’ve learned a few things since 2005.

This is day 6 of a New Year’s Resolution.

Most of what I know about Style comes from the past five years, but I started paying attention to what I wore about ten years ago. Here’s a list of 10 things I wish I’d know about style, 10 years ago, and in this list, I focus not on the trends of the time, but of basic principles that never change.

1. When you wear a t-shirt or a polo shirt, keep it slim and don’t tuck it in.

2. Wear socks with contrasting, strong colors and regular patterns, rather than trying to find socks that match your clothes.

3. Sportcoats and blazers cannot be too long for your torso length. Long blazers make you look like you’re wearing a magician’s outfit. I know you think you know what blazer size you are, but you might not. Go to a tailor and get measured before buying anything.

4. You might go through a “buying lots of clothes” phase before you figure out your style and dial in the fit. Take the advice of people in design and “fail forward.” That means lower the stakes early on. Don’t spend too much. Buy only stuff on sale, at resale boutiques, and deep-clearance.

socks

Socks: You shouldn’t shy away from bold colors, but that doesn’t mean they should have funny, little pictures on them, either.

5. The worst person to tell you what looks good on you is the guy in the store. Even nice salespeople are salespeople. Buy stuff you can return and show it to someone at work.

6. The order with which to #StyleUp your look is:

  1. Haircut
  2. Shoes (styley-casual)
  3. Shirt
  4. Jeans
  5. Tie
  6. Blazer
  7. Belt, Socks
  8. watchesAccessories / Watch

7. If you’ve had the same glasses for more than 5 years, it’s time for something new.

8. One quality garment you’ll be proud of is worth a giant mountain of sub-par garments you’ll never wear.

9. Carry a stain-stick in your man-bag.

10. Know that you won’t nail the look you want right away, and that even when you’re a little off, you’re still doing something life affirming, something which takes genuine courage: quitting the act that you don’t care how others see you.

What Tailoring Teaches Us About Growing Up: New Year’s Resolution — 30 Days of Writing. Episode 5/30

This is day 5 of a New Years Resolution.

Until I was 35, I’d never taken anything to a tailor.

Well, that’s not exactly true – I got a vintage suit when I was in college, but the pants draped down over my shoes, and the jacket was too big. But my parents orchestrated (and paid for) the whole thing, so I don’t feel like that counts.

Behold: the majestic shirt of non-fittage. Circa 2008.

Behold: the majestic shirt of non-fittage. Circa 2008.

But when I was thirty five, I got this brand new, awesome — (pauses to consider name of color) — burnt-umber colored shirt. And while I loved it on the hanger, when I put it on, I didn’t feel “classy” or “dapper” or even particularly grown-up. In fact, I felt like I used to when I was 14, and would borrow my dad’s shirt, tie, and jacket for Rosh Hashana services.

At first, I chalked this feeling off to a delinquent Saturn Return.

But I started to notice: in rooms full of well-dressed adults, say: a gala banquet — it didn’t matter what color my shirt was, or how cool my shoes were, or how well I matched my tie to my shirt, I seriously never felt like I belonged. 

One day at work, I asked a very dapper friend if he could direct me to the store that sells the shirts that fit. His response?

Do what grown-ups do, and go get your shirt tailored.

Ok, so he didn’t mean the burnt-umber atrocity, per se. That thing needed to be phased out, stat.

But I did pick out a few respectable shirts and I brought them to a place that Yelp reassured me wouldn’t ruin them, and one week later, I put on this newly tailored white shirt. Nothing special about the shirt. White. Buttons. But I noticed something profound.

It fit. I fit. I fit myself, if that makes any sense. With a decent tie and shoes, I’d be comfortable in any board-room (or bar-room) in this glorious land.

My friend Luke, who has a Ph.D. and a way with words, once described his feelings about moving away from the community he’d grown close to for several years, and did this by referring to his basketball shoes: “These shoes fit so well, I don’t even feel them. In fact, it’s hard to tell where my foot ends and the world begins. That’s how I feel about you all.”

Yes, indeed. Well fitting clothes, like a well-fitting community, help you feel united with yourself, and connected to the world.

Weird, but true.

Warning: if the shoulder seams don't hit right at the shoulderbone, it's hopeless. Give the shirt to someone who needs it more than you do.

Warning: if the shoulder seams don’t hit right at the shoulderbone, it’s hopeless. Give it to someone who needs it more than you do.

FAQ about Tailoring Your Shirt

Q: What will this so-called tailor do to my beautiful shirt?

A:  Shorten the sleeves (even a great tailor cannot lengthen sleeves), de-blousify the upper arms (my neologism, there), and get rid of the tenting, billowing, and poofing in the back. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you’re a lucky guy who fits stuff right off the rack, and no offense, this article isn’t for you.

Q: What will it cost to turn a shirt that doesn’t fit into a miracle of Joie de Vivre?

A: 20-40 bucks.

Q: What? The whole shirt cost me thirty bucks!

A: Ok, so here’s the deal. If the shirt fits right off the rack, great: Bob’s Your Uncle. But if it doesn’t fit, you need to do a little calculating. Is the $25 shirt from H&M worth tailoring? Only if you can’t stand how it fits, but you couldn’t live without it. You know, like the U2 song.

So, maybe you have a nice Brooks Brothers or J.Crew shirt but the fit is a little off. Better to spend $40 on a perfect fit, or go out and find something else that fits better off the rack? Do the math. What’s your time worth?

Q: So when I buy a shirt, I might want to calculate the cost of tailoring into the cost of the shirt? Seriously?

A: You want to feel that one-with-everything feeling or not?

New Year’s Resolution: 30 Days of Writing. Episode 4/30: We Love the Plain, White T-s. The shirt. Not the band.
Do Not: Smoke. Do: Wear a Plain, White T

Do Not: Smoke.
Do: Wear a Plain, White T

This is day 4 of a New Years Resolution.

Under no circumstances should you spend $50.00 on a T-shirt, and probably not even half of that.

I know that the entire metropolitan LA area is full of men sporting incredibly expensive t-shirts. Meanwhile, every-college campus is full of men sporting beaten-up concert t-shirts.

You want to be classy, styley, and not spend money on a garment that should cost almost nothing. What should you do?

Answer? Wear a plain, white T.

Clean. The smallest size you can before you’d call it “tight” (otherwise known as “slim).

This t-shirt costs $400. Is that any more crazy than $50?

This t-shirt costs $400. Is that any more crazy than $50?

Here’s proof.

  • Wear a t-shirt with a band or abstract design on it. Show it to someone. Ask how it looks.
  • Answer? “Fine.”
  • Put on white t-shirt. Clean. Slim-fitting. Show to same person. How does it look?
  • “Hot.”

You spent five dollars on a t-shirt that bagged you a major compliment. You win.
diagram

New Years Resolution: Episode 3/30: Where Not to Cut Corners
We, like Tony Hawk, shall do a 180.

We, like Tony Hawk, shall do a 180.

This is day 3 of a New Years Resolution.

Recently, I wrote about aspects of Style where cutting corners is not only advisable, it’s downright admirable.

Now, we’re going to do a 180 like the dude in Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater.

Where not to cut corners.

My first pair of non-cheap footwear. Purchased nearly five years ago. Cost more than all the shoes I owned at the time, combined. Guess which pair I still wear and cherish, today?

My first pair of non-cheap footwear. Purchased nearly five years ago. Cost more than all the shoes I owned at the time, combined.
Guess which pair I still wear and cherish, today?

1. Grown-ass Shoes

I completely understand that you’re not accustomed to spending $100 on anything style-related. You’re used to getting away with something from Target or Old Navy. You have bills. Priorities. You’re a family man. You’re playing of zillions of dollars in college-debt. You’re putting away all your pocket money so you can knock down a giant retirement-domino like the guy in that Prudential ad.

That said, the time has come to dig deep. Dig deep into the pockets and buy a pair of grown-ass man shoes. They will not cost you $75. They will not cost you $100. They will be probably around $200. Put your eyeballs back into your skull, and go see if you have $200 in your rainy-day fund. And I bet you anything, your loan-officer / girlfriend / wife / Prudential domino-dude will not scowl when you say: I’m splurging on a proper pair of shoes.

They will say: you’re a grown-ass man. Walk like a grown-ass man.

Wear a pair of grown-ass shoes.

Allen Edmonds' "McTavish" shoe. A heritage of kick-assery.

Allen Edmonds’ “McTavish” shoe. A heritage of kick-assery.

Here are five brands that will treat you right. 

1. Allen Edmonds. Made in America. You will leave them to your progeny.

2. Cole Haan. Dressy shoes with the sole/soul of a running shoe. My Style-Up clients try them on and sprint out the door. I have to run after them to remind them to pay. It’s all very awkward.

3. Timberland Boot Company. Different than Timberlands. Don’t confuse them. So damn comfortable. And sorta badass.

4. Red-Wings. Unquestionably cool. Pair them with jeans or a suit.

5. Johnston and Murphy. Styley. A little bit dandy in a very cool way.

Lastly: how to cut corners with shoes? Get a good brand on sale.

I mean, if you want to cut corners on your haircut, be my guest.

I mean, if you want to cut corners on your haircut, be my guest.

2. Proper Haircut

Many men talk about how little they spend on their hair-cuts as if that’s admirable. It’s not. Sometimes in life, you get what you pay for: fresh produce vs. frozen. Fresh herbs vs. dried. Fresh haircut vs. Supercuts.

It’s your head. It should look good.

Some men say: “My hair is thinning. No point in an expensive cut.”

No. Wrong. A good cut by a talented stylist will make whatever hair you have (or don’t have) look better.

How to find a good stylist?

  • 1. Ask some dude at work with good hair where he gets it cut.
  • 2. Check Yelp.
  • 3. You know that small salon (or hip barbershop?) around the corner from where you work, where the cuts are $60? Try it. Just TRY it. You will feel amazing.
"Small-batch" ties like those made by The Hill-side are much more expensive than department store ties. And guess why? They're made of excellent fabric, and excellent die, and they're gorgeous.

“Small-batch” ties like those made by The Hill-side are much more expensive than department store ties. And guess why? They’re made of excellent fabric, and excellent die, and they’re gorgeous.

3. Non-department store ties

You already know that I’m a Tie-vangelist, and that I think that dudes should wear ties way more often.

The thing is, while you can cut corners with ties, in terms of not spending tons of money on them, you cannot walk into:

and expect to find a non-expensive, styley tie. Most of what you find will be those shiny, silk things which you will have no use for — except to wear to your job at a bank. But you don’t work at a bank, and you don’t want to drop a lot of money.

Here’s the thing: though my previous post declared that you can cut corners with a great $20 tie, you have to go out of your way to get it. To find it. To pick it out. Sure, you can order one of the ties I suggest in my previous post, but let me put it this way – you cannot run out and buy whatever ties you find. You need to pick one. Thoughtfully. Invest the time and energy.

Here are some great places to browse for non-banker ties:

ebay: lots of options. Lots of digging needed.

The Hillside: a little more expensive. Worth it.

The Knottery: gourmet. Delicious.

Dandy’s: a small store in Austin, Texas, with a vintage look. Everything they have is gorgeous. Even a fabulous tie is very affordable.

This suit is about double the cost of a mass-produced suit. And it's triple the quality, and looks a million times better.

This suit is about double the cost of a mass-produced suit. And it’s triple the quality, and looks a million times better.

4. Suit

If you don’t want to spend the money required to buy a decent suit, don’t wear a suit.

Ooh, jeez. That sounds so harsh. Let me back up.

You can get a cheap suit (even two for one) at Mens’ Wearhouse, but it will look like you got two suits for the price of one.

Instead, do one of three things:

  • Conclude that you can get through life with a great blazer and dressy pants. Don’t get a suit.
  • Decide that you need a suit, and bite the bullet. Get something nice. Look amazing.
  • Do the in-between. Go to a discount place that carries last year’s overstock like Nordstrom Rack. Have it tailored.

But even in the third case, it will cost you money. It will be more expensive than Men’s Wearhouse, H&M, or Zara. And guess what? It will be a grown-ass suit you can feel good about wearing to, you know, grown-ass events like weddings, gala banquets, and James Bond parties.

New Years Resolution: 30 Days of Writing: Episode 2 – When to Cut Corners
Battlestar Galactica teaches us much about cutting corners.

Battlestar Galactica teaches us much about cutting corners.

This is day 2 of a New Years Resolution.

When we were young, our teachers and parents said “Always do your best.”

That seemed like a good idea, until many of the things asked of us were totally dumb.

  • 30 long division exercises. Do your best? No. Waste of time. Do them until you understand how to do it, then go play Pitfall.
  • Clean your room. Do your best? No. When you’re 13, a clean room is of dubious benefit. Push stuff under bed. Go play Pitfall. (For the record, as an adult, I believe a clean room is essential for well-being.)
  • Paper for US History class. Do your best? No. Make sure you learn the skills you need for life, write the paper, and play Pitfall 2. 

In style, there are certain things that are not worth obsessing over (and not worth dumping lots of money on) and certain things that demand attention and possibly a bit of money. Here is my guide – where to cut your corners.

Be sure your jeans are dark. Like your soul.

Be sure your jeans are dark. Like your soul.

CORNER CUT: Even though expensive gourmet denim can cost $200 and up, a pair of dark Levi’s is as good as it gets. I have a pair of indigo Levis and people frequently ask me where I got them. Hint: make sure they’re dark (indigo), and cuff them so there is no drape. Sharp. And not expensive.

CORNER CUT: Ties are a very important part of my style, and I love a splurge tie, but some of my best ties are not expensive. Find a knit tie or a denim tie (yes. Denim.) Bask in the compliments.

Which is the $20 tie? Which is the $125 tie?

Which is the $20 tie? Which is the $125 tie?

tbknit

CORNER CUT: Sure, you can buy a pair of Pantherella socks for fifty bucks, but the dryer will eat them, just as it eats cheaper socks. Don’t wear junky polyester socks, but do drop by Old Navy or Gap or Banana Republic next time you’re at the mall, and find socks ON SALE. No need to pay full price. They’ll cost 3-5 dollars and will bag you compliments. Yes! On your socks! (May I offer my full blog post on socks, here?)

chrisCORNER CUT: You can find an endless parade of expensive sweaters at every department store, but the best place to bag a styley sweater is at a used-clothing store. I’m not talking about Salvation Army, necessarily, which will have a preponderance of Cosby-sweaters (both he and his sweaters are on my sh*it list right now). I’m talking about Buffalo Exchange or Crossroads Trading Co. or the like. (If you own any Cosby-sweaters, take ’em to Buffalo and exchange for one of these.

CORNER CUT: Leather jackets. Good ones are insanely expensive. And cheap ones look cheap. I don’t care what GQ says, you don’t need a leather jacket. Save your money for something else.

CORNER CUT: A black, grey, or navy pea-coat. Because there’s a million versions of them, you can get an awesome looking pea-coat for not a lot of money. Make sure you get the slimmest cut you can fit into. If it’s bulky, it doesn’t matter how much money you saved on it.

CORNER CUT: Glasses. Yes, get styley glasses. Don’t spend $400. Go to See Optical or try Warby Parker for affordable eye-styliness online.

Coming soon…where not to cut corners!