A few years ago I found myself alone, tired, overly full, and smoking cigarettes while Monty Python and the Holy Grail played on my aging 32”. Splayed across my duvet were Vogues and Harper’s Bazaars, accumulated over a stretch of at least a year and a half. Magazines, simply magazines they were to the sweeping eye. To me they represented time spent with the kings and queens of design, champions of form and style and enterprise.
Years later I find myself still alone, still tired, still overly fully, and smoking a finer kind of cigarette against the background of Monty Python and the Life of Brian. Here I am again, with GQs and Vmans, Por Hommes and AnOther Mans, browser tabs open to MensReverie, ArtofManliness, and FourPins… I look at where I was and where I went, how I got there, how I’m going to get to the next milestone.
Alone alone alone. I’ve often pitied myself for how alone I’ve felt. The small apartment I share with my pets feel no larger or smaller than any other space I’ve occupied. There are DVD’S and fabric swatches enough to entertain even the most deficit introverts. Maybe what the lonely consider lonely I no longer have any feeling for. I’ve discovered the realms of history, color, construct, texture, tradition, silhouette, statement, and mood. Enrichment has taken the place of brooding. All that self loathing nonsense that once occupied my thoughts has given way to recognition of heart.
To my fellow Menswear enthusiasts, happy hunting.