Someone recently asked me if I was metrosexual...and I laughed and told them that the seduction lied in the undertones of the textiles draped on my body, and the color that protruded from them, but that it had nothing to do with my sexual orientation. When did it become cool to not take care of yourself? To not make sure that your hands were smooth against a counterparts skin, or making sure your toe nails weren't tearing up your 100 thread count sheets, or your girl. Let's be clear metrosexuals are trend followers (and there's nothing wrong with that) but style is a studied mood, my well dressed counter parts and I are comprised of attitudes that by definition transcend trends into timeless classicism...the dandy...the sartorialist...the painters of pieces.
The Sartorialist
“The making of one’s life into art is, after all, the first duty and privilege of every man.” — Arthur Symons
The Dandy
“A dandy is not a slave to fashion but an avatar of style. It used to be that dandies were also the arbiters and teachers of style — men with superior taste who introduced new modes of dress, refined others, and dismissed more.” — Nicholas Antongiavanni
The Painter of Pieces
“Dandyism may be taken as the art of selection, practiced by a lover of the visible world.” — Douglas Ainslie
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