I am the man in the shiny burnt orange bow tie. I wake up to a quiet apartment at 6:30am, shower with a lavender-musk body wash I bought in France, and drink a skim cappuccino while going through my emails. I play Frank Sinatra quietly, because I really prefer the silence. Around the house I wear a navy Ralph Lauren robe and custom-made slippers from a designer too big to mention.
When I’ve answered my emails (the important ones), I methodically select my understated greys and neutrals, button my layers from top to bottom, brush my beard and place a pilot pen in my pocket. I opt for the bow tie (which I’ve known how to tie by myself since I was 9) because I know it speaks to you. It makes my stride smoother, it makes my smile more distinguished to the men and more charming to the ladies. No, I don’t care if you know who I am (though I am somebody) – I don’t care if you snap my photograph for your so-called “ street style blog”. But rest assured at the end of the day, I’m certain I will be the topic of conversation, and you will remember the man in the shiny burnt orange bow tie.
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