Archive for the ‘Style Tips From your Dad’ Category


Working at a desk all day with Internet and Email can clutter the mind, and allow it to become even more susceptible to distractions.

Here is good little mind map that may help (although I did find this on the internet):

Via http://www.mindmapart.com/


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I’m going to do something a little out of character right now and dish out a little sartorial advice.  First, look at your feet.  What have you got on there?  If you’re at the office, I’m guessing it’s a Filene’s basement find: something black with a square toe, an Italian name, and Made in China stamped on the inside.  And that makes me sad.  It should make you sad too.  Don’t get me wrong, the dress shoe is a necessary staple, and your NBs or Chucks or whatever you wear at home are a good foil.  But sometimes you need to put some testosterone on your feet, slather yourself in denim – a la young Paul Newman – and sit in a log cabin with nothing but a buck knife and a head full of sexual repression.

Boots, my friend, are something no self-respecting man should be without.  Real boots.  Not some crappy Timberland knock-offs with pleather and glue holding the soles on. You don’t want some cheap shit – you want to make an investment in some leather that’s gonna last and a boot with a stitched sole that can be resoled when it wears out.

I have a pair of Thorogood 8″ American Heritage moc toes.  You know why they’re called American Heritage?  Because they were made in America.  By hand.  By union workers.  By union workers in fucking Wisconsin (should ring a bell – collective bargaining et al).  They will last forever with a little oil now and then.  Right now they’re over in the corner staring at me, imploring me to go handy-man it up until my hands look like NY strip steaks.  Sometimes I put them on, pour a glass of Rye, and read Faulkner and I can see the hair on my knuckles getting thicker.  I also have a pair of Frye 6″ steel toed work boots.  General Patton wore Fryes.  They used to supply their Jet Boots to service men during WWII.

I’m not claiming that I’m some bad-ass.  I spend most of the day at a computer.  I don’t tear around on an old chopper or work the docks.  But every guy needs to reconnect with his hairy, gun toting progenitors.  Not by throwing on your Red Wings and a pair of $200 jeans to go down to your favorite Greenpoint boutique cafe.  That’s just plain douche-baggery.  But when it’s time to really stomp some shit out.  Back maybe 8 years, I worked with a guy who ran a small saw mill.  He cut trees, planked logs, and drove nails until there was a house where there used to be nothing at all, and he only needed help with the mill after he turned 80 and got sciatica.  I would go down there most days that summer and split time between a cant hook and a chainsaw – not the kind of work you wanna do in a pair of Vans.

So there you have it.  You don’t have to be a steel worker, you just have to want to be a man.  You do want to be a man, don’t you?  I thought so.  Boot up then Mary, and do it while they still make ’em in the U.S. of A.

Oh, and one last thought.  It is never ok to wear Uggs.  Not ever.

But he looks so happy!

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