Better Guy X

Why Does Halftime Suck So Badly?

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 03:44:56 PST

As I watched the Super Bowl and the interminable Halftime Show, I kept thinking that the days of having the aging rock icon as the Halftime act are over. I've owned Madonna albums (cassettes, actually), had her poster on my wall in high school (along with Appolonia and Vanity), and generally like her as an artist. But last night . . . it was too much like grasping at straws for an aging provocateur. Was she solid? Sure. Does she look great at 53? Yep. Was that a good performance? Meh.

Since the Wardrobe Malfunction, the League has put on safer, older acts to prevent such an embarrassment from happening again. Acts that might not have been so safe 20 years ago, but who have mellowed, still have followings, and won't make a fuss. In that regard, it's the NFL wanting to have its cake and eat it, too. So trot out Madonna, who did enough to remind people she was once edgy (the numerous crotch shots, oiled-up studs, and lots of leg). That's left us with two good performances (Prince, Springsteen), one decent one (Paul McCartney), and some boring-assed bullshit. But if The Who didn't put the nail in the coffin a couple of years back, Madonna's show last night should have.

If Goodell and company really want a safe show, just sign Justin Beiber or the Jonas Brothers up each year. In the future, the NFL needs to defer to more relevant artists, like any of the guest stars during one of the medleys--Cee-lo Green, LMAO, Nicki Minaj, or specifically M.I.A. Check out her Bad Girls video and tell me she couldn't hold it down for 15 minutes.

Congrats to Giants, knocking off the Pats for the second time in 4 years. Now, it's time for the rest of league to lick its wounds and start plotting for the future. Let the Manning to the Skins discussions begin!

Back to Basics #13:What You Wear Should Flatter Your Body

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 05:17:41 PST

Courtesy of GQ.com

As I looked through my RSS feed of blogs and articles, I noticed that the super-spread collar (or cutaway collar) was still considered a must-have for men. I like the look of them, they work with the bulkier fabrics and bigger knots that come with winter ties (You do select tie fabric appropriate for the season, right? We'll come back to this later) One problem: If you have a face that's too round, you'll look like a cartoon wearing a collar so wide. Fashion says you need it, but personal style is based on not only your likes and dislikes, but what works with your body.

Take your shirt collar. The shirt and all of its details should make you look better, complement your face, and provide a frame for your tie, not remind people of hot air balloon. There are multiple factors that go into what works for you personally. Long neck? Thick neck? No neck? Round face? Square face? Just dealing with the spread--the distance between your collar points--the shape of your face impacts how wide you can go. The issue is balance; the broader your face, the narrower the spread you want. You want your face to appear longer, not wider. The standard straight point collar has a spread of approximately 2 1/2 inches; the super-spread collar gets as wide as 5 inches. A angular or narrow face can handle that broad a spread, but with a round face, it will make you look fat. And I'm certain that's not the look you're going. So, figure out your face's shape and dress accordingly.

Goodbye, Filene's Basement, Goodbye

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 17:48:57 PST

I'm here to mourn the loss of a friend. The announcement in early November that Filene's Basement, the discount retailer out of Massachusetts, was filing Chapter 11 and closing all of its shops floored me. I was just in Boston, but couldn't bring myself to walk into the shop on Newberry Street. The sting was still too fresh. It was like the scene in The Wire when Bunk asks Kima how McNulty is taking it after finding Stringer Bell gunned down, "Like [it] was family," with me sitting with my head in my hands, wondering what just happened.

Since the mid 90s, Filene's Basement was my go-to for basics from white shirts to patterned socks. Men's local clothing departments or men-specific retail was scant in DC. I was too old to outfit myself at Urban Outfitters or Up Against the Wall. Britches of Georgetown would close by the beginning of the new century; Woodies, Raleigh's, and other men's clothiers went out of business years before. There were some small shops with hot clothes, but for the most part, what was left were national brands (J. Press, Brooks Brothers, Polo), most of which were incredibly preppy or old. In a town with limited men's retail, Filene's Basement was my saving grace. I found incredible odd pieces, purchased brands I'd heard of, but couldn't afford at retail, and outfitted new wardrobes for new careers.

During lunch hours, I'd stop through Filene's and scope out the latest arrivals. Over the years, I purchased Armani, Bill Robinson, Wilkes-Rodriguez, Ike Behar, Hickey-Freeman, Dolce and Gabbana, occasionally Valentino, Canali, in pieces big and small. As the pioneer in automatic markdowns, you could track when an item would be reduced to a price point comfortable for you, assuming supply lasted. If something you wanted stayed on the floor for 30 days, you knew you could get it at 60% off the original price, or more. A perfect combination for the budget-conscious and sartorially-inclined. Eventually, online shopping, increased retail opportunities, and a larger income expanded my options, but I could still count on Filene's for staples and surprises. Yes, you had to wade through racks and tables and really crappy stuff to find diamonds (black seersucker jacket from Hugo Boss at 25% of the original price, Incotex pants for 15% of original price) but it was worth it. I shopped for me and for others there, particularly at this time of year.

Now, as the Holidays approach and with a January closure set for the century-old business, I sing a verse of Auld Lang Syne and say goodbye to a friend. . . after I make another couple of purchases.

Requiem for a Scandal

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Sat, 12 Nov 2011 07:35:18 PST

I lost a bet to a co-worker. I bet him that Joe Paterno would make it though the season and be allowed to retire on his own terms. By now, you've read the stories about a former Penn State assistant coach who had multiple improper relationships with young boys. You know about another assistant coach, then graduate assistant, who saw Jerry Sandusky in the Penn State athletic facility showers with a 10-year old boy, reported it to Joe Pa the next day, but didn't intervene. You're aware that Paterno kicked it up to the athletic director and that beyond that, nothing happened. Despite the horrific nature of the offense, the grand jury testimony by assistant coach Mike McQueary and Paterno, the perjury charges against AD Tim Curley and Vice President Gary Schultz that amounted to acknowledgment and intentional neglect, I was willing to bet Paterno would get the chance to finish out the season.

If you think I am naive or worse, insensitive to the alleged crimes, don't. What happened to the young boys was a tragedy, a series of abhorrent acts that makes my stomach turn and makes me want to take a Louisville Slugger to Sandusky's knee caps. As a father, I'm repulsed. As a man, I'm angry. But I thought that the college football machine and cult of personality surrounding Joe Pa would allow him to go off into the sunset. The equivocating language used by Paterno, Curley, Schultz, and former President Graham Spanier, said Penn State had made their choice and would protect the institution and its most prominent staff member over the interests of the Sandusky's victims.

And for a few days, my bet looked good. Sandusky was arrested, Curley and Schultz were put on administrative leave, but no mention of Joe Pa. Paterno tried to author his exit with an albeit it tone-deaf, end-of-the-season retirement statement, which seemed it might be enough for the weak-willed people in charge. High-level athletics have allowed many a sin to be glossed over, covered up, with hundreds of faceless victims left to suffer in its wake. And I say this as an unabashed fan of sports and athletics. Then, the stories of Sandusky still coming around with kids as late as 2008, his still using the gym a week before the arrest, and excerpts from the actual testimony from the grand jury leaked out. Public opinion began to catch up with the scandal. It was just a question of when the President and ultimately the coach would be let go. I lost my bet at around 10 pm on Thursday.

The defense of Paterno with "He's 84!" "He told the authority. It wasn't his fault Curley didn't act!" "What about McQueary?" wasn't going to hold. The same measure of power that I thought might save him did him in. The reverential power he holds in Happy Valley--he is the hegemonic leader of Penn State, regardless of title--meant he could have dealt with this situation. Why he didn't investigate more--out of loyalty to Sandusky, out of protection for the program, or what ever the reason--from a family man, a religious man, a man who has groomed boys to become men for over 50 years, was a question that he eventually couldn't avoid and couldn't sufficiently answer.

So, on Saturday at noon, Penn State will roar out of the tunnel to face Nebraska, without winningest Division 1 football coach for the first time since Eisenhower was president. McQueary is now on administrative leave and neither he nor Curley nor Schultz will see Christmas in Happy Valley. I'll pay my debt of an India Pale Ale, and raise a glass with my colleague. I'm not upset that I lost. Too often this sort of thing gets swept under the rug (youth hockey, soccer, and swimming have all been in the spotlight over the past decade) and although late, it seems there will be some reckoning for Sandusky. The kids won't ever be made whole by any of this, but at least they might find closure. I won't shed a tear for Joe Pa or any of the other adults who chose not act while kids suffered. Perhaps the kids who will play Saturday will learn the lessons that their mentors obviously forgot to practice.

Cocktail Friday: Mexican Coffee

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Fri, 11 Nov 2011 05:13:22 PST

Friday's here. It's a long weekend--Happy Veterans Day to all those who have and do serve this nation. Here's to hoping you have something incredible planned.

As I was checking in on Twitter and the morning crew (#TBC) recently, the idea of a meet-up was the topic of the day. Spurred on by coffee and the thought of tequila, we plotted our little soiree. The weather has made a definitive shift, so combining coffee with tequila was a thought. Mexican Coffee! Now, given our informal group of early risers are dispersed around the nation, it's going to some time before we actually pull this together, but in the meanwhile, I thought I'd provide a recipe for the drink, just to practice.

Some Mexican coffee recipes don't actually have tequila in them. Just coffee liqueur, coffee, and whipped cream, with maybe some cinnamon. But the definitive recipe from Mr Boston's does (sorry about that, Ty).

Courtesy of TheBar.com

1 oz. coffee liqueur (Kahlua, Tia Maria, or a generic band)
1/2 oz. tequila
5 oz. coffee
Whipped cream

Stir tequila and liqueur into a coffee mug of coffee. Top with whipped cream. A dusting of cinnamon is optional.

Air Travel: You Have to Want It

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Wed, 09 Nov 2011 06:53:36 PST

On my way home from a business trip, a pregnant woman was struggling; her bag was unzipped and dangling from her arm, she was trying to maintain a conversation with what sounded like her beau as she boarded, and appeared to be 7 months along and obviously ill-prepared for this trip. The whole while we were waiting for the flight, the sister was undone. Once we boarded the plane, there she was, unable to get her bag into the overhead compartment. I asked if I could help. Her duffel was over-sized, but not big enough to check, so I was "that guy" trying to force the square peg into the round hole. A woman walked behind me and said, "You gotta want it." I allowed the words of the blonde-streaked brunette to wash over me for a moment, then repositioned the bag and closed the bin.

Note: This is not my beautiful life.

This statement has become my metaphor for travel: you have to want it. I've been flying since before I was 2 years old. I enjoy going to new places and all that it entails.I've always felt that everyone should (if possible) fly across country once. It changes your perspective on our country. What I'm becoming is less enamored with the actual journey. Flying's become such a crappy proposition nowadays. Airports are glorified bus terminals. Flights offer fewer and fewer amenities. The airlines charge extra for everything. Of course, my feelings on this are directly related to the fact I'm flying more often for my "day job." The glamour of air travel, embodied by Clooney in Up In the Air, has worn off, replaced by full-body scanners and long lines.

Note: But this is. Courtesy of USA Today.

Some time back, as a part of my day job, I was reading about the history of aviation. Reflecting on those chapters, it hit me why air travel sucks: it was developed primarily to move mail. Passenger travel was always informed by the need to get mail across the country and to as many places as possible within a short time. Passenger travel was a way to make the mail routes profitable. People were baggage, the mail was the passenger. That changed, but I'm not sure the mind set did.

At first, only the well-off could afford the flights, and after a rough start, amenities were made available and plentiful. Things like real silverware. People got dressed up to fly. Airports were the latest things in architectural style. Food and drink was considered part of the trip. It was an occasion. Then, it became affordable, accessible to more people. Flying began to replace train and bus travel. Families could spend their vacations on vacation as opposed to in transit. More places opened up to us and it was still a pleasant experience, even in coach. However, somewhere along the line, air travel became this thing that is closer to commuter train or bus. Nothing wrong with commuter transportation in and of itself. It's quick (normally), efficient (usually), and relatively cheap. But instead of the buses or trains from the outer lying suburbs into the city, flying became a ride on the 90 Metro bus during rush hour. Crowded, uncomfortable, and unpredictable. Everything became ala carte including baggage. Air travel went from a pleasure to a pain.

Obviously, things have changed since the 1970s--the deregulation of airlines changed what was a public utility to a commodity, September 11 happened, there has been an increase in air travelers, all of which have changed the dynamic of how airlines operate. The romantic ideas of Pan Am and jetsetters, are gone. Air travel has become a business necessity, and I'm enjoying it less and less.

Welcome to Fall

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 19:22:06 PDT

On my lunch break the other day, I had to stop for a few provisions as I prepared for the change in season. I needed shave cream, had a pair of shoes that needed taps, and a cigar seemed to be in order. /The temperature was starting to cool, the sun was bright, and I was less than 15 minutes from my errands.

After dropping off the shoes, I went to Art of Shaving to get more sandalwood shave cream and pre-shave oil. Because of Be Better Guys and the reviews for products we do, I hadn't had to buy shave cream in over a year. So, I didn't mind picking some up.

Afterwards, ducked into JR Cigars--can't beat the prices-- and grabbed a box of the Fuente Hemingway Short Story, a great quick smoke. For a while, this was a hard smoke to find, so I was pleased to grab a box. The Cameroon wrapper is a particular favorite of mine. It's sweet and spice combination is a distinct taste--not for everyone.

As much as I love a good smoke, I tend to enjoy cigars more when the weather's cool and while out for a walk. Spent the last several months purchasing toros (48-50 ring gauge, 7" or more long) and felt like I needed something for a brisk walk. It's a perfecto--only 4 1/2" and a 46 ring gauge, hence short story, with a nipple tip-- and it has a even burn and draw. Never had a bad one.

Needless to say, I had one on the way back to the office.

Cocktail Friday: Ginger-infused Caipirinha

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 14:17:57 PDT

Remember that ginger simple syrup I made several weeks back for the Gin-Ger cocktail? Found another use for it--substitute it instead of regular sugar in a Caipirinha. The ginger and lime are a match made in heaven, complementing the sweet heat of the cachaca. This ginger-infused Caipirinha is a nice change of pace. And while there aren't many hot days left this year when this would be perfect, there are still grilling opportunities before Fall fully takes hold. I suggest trying one then.

1 1/2 oz Cachaca
1/2 lime, quartered
1/2 oz ginger simple syrup (more, if you like it really sweet)
Ice, crushed or at least broken

Add simple syrup and lime to an old-fashioned glass and muddle with the back of a spoon or wooden pestle (muddler). Add ice and cachaca, serve with sugar cane garnish, or lime.

Defending the Unmanly

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Fri, 09 Sep 2011 07:19:58 PDT

"I come not to praise Caesar, but to bury him."
-Marc Antony, from Julius Caesar (Act 3, Scene 2)

Monday's article on Be Better Guys (yes, my website) picked up on a discussion in a recent article in Esquire about manicures. Esquire said men should never have manicures, albeit reluctantly, and my friend and BBG co-creator David essentially agreed with them. Here's the problem I have with this. The magazine has been preaching the benefits of this enhanced grooming for a decade, if not longer. Now as the greater part of male society has caught up with the notion that giving a damn is a good idea, the magazine is backing off, at least on this point. Apparently, applying a mask to unclog your pores and tone your skin still is OK. Really?

Let's keep in mind that Esquire doesn't talk to the average guy--unless the average guy can afford to drop $5000-$15000 on a new wardrobe every year, or hang out in St. Barts on vacation, or can afford regular manicures. No, Esquire is talking to a group of men who are in a higher tax bracket with disposable wealth and time, or those who aspire to be. Much of the discussion is about services they can afford and some perceived added value those services provide. The whole uptick in men's style the past 10 years came from these aspirations. Except those wanting it now are young and outside of the original target demographic. As the pendulum swings from fitted ISAIA suits to Woolrich flannels and Red Wing boots, Esquire, which is the oldest men's mag in terms of longevity and target audience, finds itself in a quandary that it's been trying to address for a period of time--how to stay contemporary while maintaining your core audience? Their core are desk jockeys, white collar guys who don't hew wood with an axe or hump hay up and down stairs for the family farm. But there's appeal there in our nostalgia-laden collective memory. So, follow the zeitgeist and hope that your core is chasing the fountain of youth and longing for simpler times like the rest of society. Step away from anything other than what's primal for men and keep your content rich. However, it used to be that men of a certain age and stature didn't worry about such things. They knew they were men.

Recognizing that it isn't an all-or-nothing proposition, but that manicures are currently Esquire's Rubicon, I won't get twisted around the axle about this. There is plenty of aspiration left in the pages of its august magazine. I personally have had a dozen manicures in my life, most revolving around an event (wedding, formal, etc.) So basically since my 30s, about one a year. I should do it more often, but I cut them myself and borrow some occasional products from my wife when they are looking rough. However, there is no comparison to what the pros do and what I can do. And watching a pro do it can help you perform a better job maintaining the work.

While I disagree with both Esquire and David, opting for the occasional hand tune-up, I don't disagree with David's position that the cost of a manicure plus tip could be spent on a bottle of good whiskey. As a self-admitted cuticle biter, I'd encourage David to spend an occasional few bucks on letting a pro handle for him. Besides, he's not working anywhere where anyone will knock his mani, unless he got polish on his nails.

Better Guy X on the Dating Marketplace Talking Marriage

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Wed, 31 Aug 2011 12:07:07 PDT

A while back, I wrote an article for my website Be Better Guys on 10 Things I Know About Marriage. My post was pretty simple in that it didn't try to conquer the world for the married population, just explain why I chose to be married and what it meant to me. The article went over well and I received a tweet from Nicole Johnson of Nic and Neely's Dating Marketplace, dating experts in the Boston area, telling me how much they enjoyed it. Then, she asked if I would come on the show and talk about marriage and the piece. "Yeah, sure," I said.

So, I'll be on The Dating Marketplace (you can see it live through the Pulse Network online) this Wednesday, August 31 at @ 3:15 pm. Tune in, or catch it later. Should be lots of fun.

GQ's Style Manual: style over substance?

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Sun, 28 Aug 2011 10:17:47 PDT

I finally had a chance to look through the GQ Style Manual. It takes a much different approach than the Esquire Big Book of Style--big on hip, young, and celebrity, light on new content. As a guy who's read both magazines for years, I recognize that the difference between GQ and Esquire is that GQ is a fashion magazine that talks about men's lifestyle, while Esquire is a men's lifestyle mag that talks about fashion. This POV is highlighted in the two style guides in their approaches, layouts, and overall effect.

First, I read the GQ one via iPad app. I greatly appreciate that the parent publisher Conde Nast allows print subscribers free access to the app version. Not that I want everything free, but not having to buy it was a boon. It also reminded me that Hearst requires a print subscriber to purchase an online subscription also, which is highway robbery.

Second, GQ re-purposed photo shoots and content from the past years to use in the guide. Honestly, it's pretty smart. It's all work the magazine has already done, so why recreate the wheel, right? You need style tips, check; current content, check; glossy fashion photos, check; now add some quick, pithy discussions on well-covered recent topics and you're set. While I'm not sure all of the content was re-purposed, I definitely recognized several shoots from older issues--because there is no other reason for me to remember gazing upon Zac Efron in any magazine I ever purchase.

Third, the manual light on jargon, covers a full range of accessories and staples, with a decided slant toward the urban sophisticate. This is the thing about GQ--it does this well. It makes the case for proportion, color matching, pattern pairings, and how to add spice by paying attention to the details.

Finally, I was struck at the tone of the manual. The comments from editors, fashion designers, and stylists are in English, not some inaccessible lexicon (which even I'm guilty of occasionally). Young, very hip, fashion-forward, the message is that any young dude striking out into the world can upgrade his position with a change in wardrobe. Obviously, it's more than that, but a while back, I noted how median age of GQ's reader was in around 28, compared to Esquire and Men's Health, which are decidedly late 30s and early 40s. I'm just curious if the magazine believes that the average guy they are talking to makes as much as the celebrities and up-and-coming actors serving as mannequins.

The upshot is that the GQ Style Manual provides fashion guidance in a palatable, accessible way, even if the price point is incongruous to its target demographic. Style first.

Cocktail Friday: DC's Finest, the Rickey

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 10:56:00 PDT

As a former bartender, participating member of Cocktail Nation, and someone with an interest in history, I love the stories behind a drink. Learning of the origins of the Rickey—originally made with rye whiskey, but best known as a gin concoction—made me smile, especially since it originated here in DC, my hometown. True to the spirit of the drink, it is a cooler, a dry drink of minimal sweetness (or none depending on the liquor). Created by “Colonel Joe” Rickey in post-Civil War Washington, it’s perfect for the humid, dog days of summer that arise here. And it's now the official drink of Washington, DC.

Rickey was a political mover and shaker from Missouri, a regular at the local haunts around what is now Federal Triangle. His instructions to a bartender for a drink of rye whiskey, lime and soda was the kick-off for a whole host of other drinks called Rickeys and what eventually became Collins. My introduction to Joe Rickey’s concoction was through a Tom Collins, my original go-to summer drink; gin, sweet and sour, and a splash of soda. Caiparihnas, daiquiris (not the slushy one with strawberries, but white rum, lime, and sugar over ice), and mojitos fall under the same category, when you think about it.

So, I’ve been trying Rickeys with dark rum, with various whiskeys, brandy, and gin. Regardless of the liquor, it’s an ideal sipping drink for the summer. The soda and lime are perfect foils to the heat. Served in a highball glass, there enough mixer to ensure you don’t get toasted after one or two. For the guy who knows that the night (or day) is young, a Rickey keeps you in the game, but not over the limit.

Rum Rickey

2 oz Flor de Cana 7 year Rum
Juice of 1 lime
Soda water
Ice

Add ice, rum, and lime to highball glass. Top with soda water. Garnish with a lime wheel or wedge.

Perception Becomes Reality: College Student Arrested for Sagging Pants

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Tue, 09 Aug 2011 20:10:07 PDT

Disclaimer: I don't believe in any way, shape, or form that anyone should be singled out for unfair treatment because to the clothes they wear. Not women, not men, not anyone. Profiling is absolutely wrong. I'm talking about context here, so bear with me.

Hiroko Masuike for The New York Times

Earlier this summer, Deshon Marman was flying to Phoenix from San Francisco, after attending a friend's funeral. The young man, who plays football at University of New Mexico on scholarship, was wearing sweat pants that were sagging low, as is the style for so many kids his age. He was asked to pull up his "Pajama pants" by flight staff. According to Marman, he indicated he would do so once he sat down (reports are that his hand were full). According to the flight crew, he ignored multiple requests. This lead to a call to the pilot, over whether or not a passenger was appropriately attired. The pilot came out to address the situation. Marman's seatmate decided once the exchange became heated, to videotape the encounter, for over 3 minutes. From all reports, which include the video, at no time did Marman become belligerent, unreasonable, or incoherent. His argument was that once he sat down, he'd deal with his pants and all would be fine, which by accounts was the case. US Airways, while they have no dress code, does believe it has discretion to ask passengers to dress in an appropriate manner. At the end of their discussion, the flight was unloaded and delyaed 1.5 hours, Marman was led off of the plane and eventually arrested. Some time later, he was freed and the charges were dropped, but not before it reached a broader audience, calling for the heads of US Airways staff. Herein, lies the rub: US Airways was wrong, but if Marman thought he'd be singled out (negatively) in advance, I bet he'd have dressed differently.

Personally, and as co-founder of Be Better Guys, I believe men should dress "appropriately" for the occasion. It's a sign of adulthood and my initiation began when my dad taught me to tie my tie and shine my shoes at 11, because his father taught him the value of looking like you belonged. Furthermore, as a black man who has had random people walk up to him in stores around the nation and ask either "Can I help you?" in a tone that inferred "What are you doing here?", or "Can you get me a size XX" (because, why else would you be here?) I know how loaded the questions and assumptions around what you look like are. After September 11, 2001, I was "randomly" selected in security checks probably 10 times in 2 years. Being black, bald, and wearing a goatee at the time, I'm sure, had nothing to do with it.

Marman's mother was on the radio (96.3 FM, WHUR, Washington, DC) this evening as I was riding home, talking about how "this is the real world," that racism existed, that people judge you by your attire, and that her plaintive requests for him to pull up his pants weren't just a mother's silly request. I was struck by that. I'd heard those words from my mother some 20 years ago. My mother would have had me and my sister wear our Sunday best to go out anywhere. My father echoed the same sentiment when he disapproved of my pants choice for a wedding (maroon cotton pants with sewn-in pleats--it was the 80s, damn it!). "Take that shit back" is what I believe he said. Later, I understood their point: that as a black male, your margin of error is much slimmer. Why give people a chance to write you off before you get an opportunity to let them know you? There is a generation of kids (and honestly, this is probably a good thing) that have no idea what I'm talking about, which doesn't mean much until situations like Deshon Marman's raise their ugly heads.

Deshon, now you know that there is a thing called institutionalized racism that has nothing to do with people being Klansmen or members of hate groups. It speaks, in part, to the developed profile of what "black men" who look a certain way, do and are. This doesn't have any relationship to reality, or the fact you are a well-spoken, capable kid.If the origin of sagging pants is traced to prison style, where belts weren't allowed due to possibility of violent crimes (to self and to others), then those who popularize it must be criminals. The average person is more than adept at finding a listing on Wikipedia and the hundreds of other listings that say it's so on Google than engaging you. You get that, right?

Now, would Deshon flying in a black suit from his friend's funeral made a difference to the perception about young black males? Who knows, but I feel confident that he wouldn't have been lead off in handcuffs in the end. The part of me that says, "Don't give folks the chance!" thinks that he shouldn't do anything to provoke the reactionists in this time of uncertainty. But, I support things like the "Slut Walk" and women in less-than-discrete attire and don't advocate them being raped due to their wardrobes. Perception, in both cases, feeds the rationale for the behavior against both groups. Deshon could have made a different wardrobe choice, which I would have advocated for multiple reasons. Saying he was at fault, however, for the incident due to the clothes he wore is crazy, especially when a man wearing women's lingerie was allowed on an US Airways flight just days later (and no, I'm not naive enough to think it was coincidence). US Airways screwed this up, and most of it had to do with perceptions about Marman based on his clothes, then on his audacious response, in plain-spoken English.

The short hand that your wardrobe provides you is more important than you think. Be this kid didn't deserve to have is 15 minutes of fame come this way.

Retro Style: Monk-Strap Shoes

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 14:45:07 PDT

Style blogger Glen Palmer reached out earlier this week. He asked if I had any thoughts for an article he was pulling together for Uptown Magazine on retro-style pieces that guys need to have this Fall. Immediately, I thought of monk-strap shoes. Just days before Glen contacted me, I purchased a pair of double monk-strap shoes in suede. (left, Vertner, by Cole Haan) I'd been leaning toward getting a pair over the past few months, initially out of nostalgia for the ones I wore years ago. Plus, they've been cropping up on runways and online the last season or two.

The whole buckles over laces thing has an anachronistic feel to it that jives with the recent movement toward a more formal men's style. Yet, it's very utilitarian and practical. More formal than a loafer, but more character than a lace up, monk-straps offer a nice added bit of detail. Worth considering if you're in the market for a style bump.

Back to Basics #118: Dress for the Occasion

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Tue, 19 Jul 2011 19:44:41 PDT

The two images you see here are responsible for my dusting off this discussion. The confluence of events, men and wardrobe are purely coincidental, but they coincidence helps illustrate my point. So, here we go. One is of Justin Timberlake, (c/o ESPN) singer/actor and presenter at last weekend's ESPYs. The other is of Jesse Williams, (c/o Exposay) actor on "Grey's Anatomy" and a good looking dude who could probably show up in a Homey the Clown outfit and get women, attending the same event. Given, as I indicated, that both men were at the same event, you would think their respective attire would bear a vague resemblance to one another. You would be wrong.

It's a bit of a mystery to me how so many men don't understand what's appropriate for what occasion. There is

casual (backyard BBQ, football watching party);
business casual (Fridays at the office, attending a conference);
business (suit and tie, office apparel);
cocktail (dark suit and tie, dressier look for an event);
semi-formal (black tie, dinner jacket); and
formal (white tie, tails)

Dressing for the occasion is part of the whole world of adulthood. You wouldn't wear a Kings jersey to work for a meeting with the boss, so why show up at a work function looking like your cube-mates kid? An awards show is probably at the least an after-six or cocktail attire sort of occasion--even in L.A. where it was probably 3 in the afternoon. At some point, awards shows were formal occasions. I've seen images of Sidney Poitier in white tie and tails accepting his Oscar. And honestly, that's probably too much, so cocktail attire is accurate--a lounge suit, which is dressier than a business suit, but not formal. People will argue about what semi-formal is, but those people never read an etiquette book or a style guide. And I'm not unaware of our relaxed standards of dress and generally speaking, I don't mind it. So if I hear semi-formal, I call and ask if I'm expected to be in a dinner jacket and black tie or, a lounge suit. The point of the matter is that there is an expectation of appropriate dress. The occasion, dictated by the host, determines it. This is why the two pictures are up.

I saw Jesse's style at last year's ESPYs. He was in a gray lounge suit, with an open collar white shirt. Perfectly acceptable for a Hollywood summer evening. But this waiter-meets-skate-punk thing he wore this weekend was some bullshit. Gray winged-collar shirt and high-top Nike sneakers. C'mon son, you're a grown man. With his turn for Macy's Alfani line last fall, he'd obviously caught someone's attention as a comer. This was not the look if you want to be that dude.

Justin, on the other hand exhibited the sort of style I hope the rest of his peers aspire to eventually. The monochromatic in gray, the contrast collar, I even liked the three-button choice he made. The high button stance needed the silver tie and white spread collar shirt to give it the necessary contrast. He looked sharp, scruffy beard and all. Be it Justin or his stylist, someone recognized that with a new movie release and tons of press, he needed to look the part of a leading man. Well, check that box, you're covered.

Hollywood used to be where the average guy looked for guidance on what looks good. And while the average guy still looks to Tinseltown, instead of setting the style standard, Hollywood has allowed street style to impact its packaging. Having some give and take is a good thing and maybe there are too many other influences for the movie industry to dictate how guys should dress. But the problem as I see it is that guys don't know the rules that they should/could occasionally break. So let me just say this, if the note/txt/msg/ or call suggests a type of dress, just do it.

New Cocktail: Gin-Ger, if I Can Get it Right

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Sat, 09 Jul 2011 19:21:14 PDT

I'm fixated on this cocktail I had last weekend. I was the dinner with Wifey, making up for the ruined birthday she had recently. Honestly, the dinner was happening anyway, but after the shenanigans of her actual birthday, dinner was going to have to be more than a meal. We went to Zentan, Susur Lee's DC outpost. Unbeknownst to us, Sunday offers a slimmed down menu, which actually worked out just fine. Good food, fine service, and a leisurely evening. For a pre-dinner drink, I chose a Gin-Ger, Tanqueray, ginger syrup, and bitters. In theory, it was an awesome combination of herbaceous, sweet, spicy, with the cut of bitters. In actuality, it was good, but something was missing. Couldn't quite put my finger on it at the time and neither could my wife. To me, this should be a great substitute for a Martini--a true Gin cocktail with broad appeal. It was crisp, clean, but begged for something more. Did it need more ginger? Perhaps some lime (because what drink with gin, ginger, and bitters couldn't benefit from some lime?). Another dash of bitters? Not sure, so I'm experimenting with the possibilities.

I wasn't sure of the original proportions, but given the size of the glass, we're looking at least 3 oz of gin, probably 4, 1/2 oz of ginger syrup, plus a couple of dashes of bitters. This, by the way, is too big, so I started at 2 oz gin, 1/4 oz ginger syrup, but left the bitters as is--my initial hunch was that it needed more bitters. Instead of Tanqueray, I used Bombay Sapphire, but any London Dry Gin would probably work. I may try Gordon's next time, just to test the theory. I made my own ginger syrup with simple syrup and adding ginger juice. I tried a few combinations, but haven't found the one yet. Tasty, but lacking the crystal clear look; clean looking, but missing the necessary bite. Too heavy on the tongue or not enough flavor beyond the gin. A few drops of lime was promising, but didn't quite get up over the hump.

One problem is that the ginger extract I made wasn't strained or clarified. That made the drink slightly golden, instead of clear as the original, So I'll need to adjust that next time. Another thing is that a traditional simple syrup is fairly thick in texture. It lays on the tongue, so the next batch will be a lighter syrup (1:2 sugar to water instead of the traditional 1:1), or less of it in the drink, or try Domaine de Canton Ginger Liqueur. So I'm asking all of you amateur and professional mixologists: how do I make this drink the banger that it should be? I'm still playing with the recipe, so let me know your suggestions.

How Children Ruined My Wife's Birthday

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Fri, 01 Jul 2011 08:07:25 PDT

My wife just celebrated a birthday. Over the past few years, we've decided to take it easy on presents because June is a busy month around these parts: Father's Day, her parents' anniversary, her mom's birthday, then hers, capped off with my birthday in the first week in July. She got a new pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses, but essentially that was it for the birthday.

But I couldn't let the actual day pass without a bit more. So, me and Joyner Girl #1 made a card for Mommy during our morning ritual, and I planned to pick up some flowers before meeting her to pick up the girls from daycare. I was early meeting her, so I took my time walking over. Along the way, I received all sorts of compliments on my bouquet (Lilies, which are a favorite, Digitalis, Gerber daisies); women swooned and "awwed"; dudes gave me the nod that said "You're doing right. Good luck tonight"; a couple of people chimed in humorously that I "shouldn't have. How sweet." A cute bartender stopped me to let me know that I was as good as gold with the flowers and picking up the girls. I already had a hand-printed birthday card, the type of press and paper that Wifey loves. I foresaw an evening of light banter, good eats at home, and some romantic nuzzling on the sofa.

That line of thinking is a fool's errand. Because life interrupts, swiftly and unequivocally. From the moment we got our girls, the whole romantic notion of the evening was blown to smithereens. After a promising start in the car, it went downhill, fast. Getting dinner on the table became one of the tasks of Hercules, with Joyner Girl #2 having developed the reach of Stretch Armstrong, snatching things off of counters and tables. Each child had a melt-down, bed time was 3x longer than normal. The early evening of unwinding was spent fending off Joyner Girl #1, who wouldn't go to sleep. The flirty banter I was counting on (the closest married couples with kids get to foreplay without a babysitter) was derailed by talk of potty mouths and bad behavior. This wasn't the birthday either of us had in mind. In fact, she indicated as much once one or another of the children did something to wreck the evening, and my wife is an understanding and patient woman. This admission was after a stiff-arm for my advances. But having children will do this to you.

Needless to say, we went to bed early, with a certain degree of malice in our hearts toward the sleeping lambs in their rooms, snoozing away. In the words of The Talking Heads, "This [was] not my beautiful life." I've said this before: kids drain you, suck the life out of you. But here's the caveat: we woke up the next morning with adoring, loving kids who wanted to share what was next for Daddy and Mommy (I saw this with humor and some modicum of sadness. But mainly humor.).

Therefore I say this to you with all the love in my heart, find a babysitter for special occasions. No matter how much it costs, pay it. You can't imagine how wrong the right time could be without one.

Guilty Pleasures: Espadrilles

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Sat, 18 Jun 2011 09:41:49 PDT

Espadirlles on Don Johnson? Brilliant! (Manolo for the Man)

Dear reader, if you've read this blog before, you know I have strong opinions. I have opined on my loathing of flip flops (glorified shower shoes). You have read my hate for Crocs (not intended for wear outside of specialized purposes). I can't tell you why anyone would wear clogs, especially guys. But there is a non-traditional shoe I've had a long and abiding relationship with: espadrilles. Yep, those canvas and jute rope shoes that reek of European beaches and men wearing Speedos. I've probably owned a half-dozen pair in my life and I'm thinking it may be time for another pair.

If you're thinking "Who is this hipster freak talking about my shoes?" I bought my first pair of espadrilles at Urban Outfitters back in the mid-80s (Yes, Urban Outfitters has been supplying cheap, hip clothes to wanna-be style councilors for nearly 30 years). Just a young dude and trying to find something other than canvas sneakers to wear in the summer, the $10 pair of cloth shoes guaranteed not to make it past September seemed to be the answer. Yet, I haven't owned a pair since my first trip to Spain in '98. They were fly as hell walking around Alicante, sipping $2 (with conversion) beers from the cervezaries on the beaches. Of course, the shoe originated in Spain, was the sartorial lounge shoe of choice for Picasso and Dali, so that might have had something to do with it, also. There is the connotation that here in the States, they associated with being are a woman's summer shoe. . . .

From RopeySoles.com

The shoe is a alternative to boat shoes, sneakers, or driving moccasins for the warmth of leisurely summer days. Would I wear them to work? No! I'm not a damned Philistine, but I was at a picnic just the other day and thought "I could use another pair of espadrilles. They've been popping up more and more the past several summer seasons, which might have some impact on my sudden interest again. The problem is that now to get a pair means paying $40 to $90 dollars for them. This whole Tom's Shoes thing is seriously wrecking it for me, too. While I appreciate that money goes to getting under privileged kids in other countries, I'm not paying that sort of money for disposable shoes. And I don't want some that look like chukka boots or glorified Keds, just a simple slip on pair in black, or white, maybe navy. I'm getting a pair, just as soon as I can find some in my size.

Learn A Little Something: 'Merican Whiskey, or Why Bourbon's so Popular

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Wed, 25 May 2011 20:09:52 PDT

Knob Creek's a favorite, even though I didn't list it.

On the Be Better Guys website, we posted "Whiskeys Worth Trying", adding a few others to the growing list of American whiskey. In the article, I stated:

"I know the trend toward cocktails the past 10 years has partially driven this revival of bourbon or American whiskey. It's sweeter than other whiskeys, since it has to be 51% corn. This helps. But I do think the nostalgia for mid-century Americana and the growth of new South accounts plays a big role in the popularity among younger drinkers. All the strictures on what makes bourbon--the grain, minimum of 2 years in charred new oak barrels, made in Kentucky--actually belie it's relatively wide open roots. American whiskey is responsible for rebellion, DIY entrepreneurial enterprises, and some great stories. It doesn't hurt that it's a potent liquor, either."

In that statement, I alluded to the significant history of the spirit in the American story. It also plays a role in my own family history. This gets into some of the geeky history stuff that I love, so bear with me.

The Whiskey Rebellion was a result of of the Distilled Spirits Tax of 1791, which put a tariff on the all distilled spirits produced in the fledgling US, to pay off the national debt that the federal government assumed following the Revolutionary War. This didn't go over well for those farmers in the western frontiers (like western Pennsylvania and beyond the Appalacians). Without the immediate access to markets, making whiskey and other liquors gave them a way to make money on their crops. Farmers producing liquor felt that all of their profits were being siphoned off by the tax and began to use intimidation to scare off the tax assessors. The federal government eventually used force to enforce the tax, the first test for a young nation. Sporadic violence broke out over 3 years, with the actual "rebellion" beginning in July of 1794. Over 12,000 troops were used to suppress the rebels throughout western Pennsylvania from July to October. The law was eventually repealed, although replaced with another law that taxed spirits, among other items later. Can't mess with a man's livelihood--or whiskey.

Wendell Scott, courtesy of All Left Turns.com

Of course, if the cost of doing business legally is too high, the marketplace will demand other outlets. Bootlegging, illegal stills, are as American as apple pie. For example, that great entrepreneur Larry Flynt began his road to riches as a bootlegger near the Kentucky-Ohio border. He didn't stay in the game long, but he found other ways to turn a buck. I have an uncle who's claim-to-fame was that he drove a souped-up Chevy that he used to run moonshine in Albermarle County, NC. There are a few other stories, but his running corn liquor linked him up to another American tradition: NASCAR. Men like Wendell Scott, one of the few blacks in NASCAR history and the only black Cup winner, who ran moonshine on the back roads of Virginia and found a home for those driving skills in stock car racing. Scott's story was turned into the movie Greased Lightning with Richard Pryor, Pam Grier, and Beau Bridges. Scott was one of many of the early racers who got their start running 'shine throughout Appalacia. Cheaper to pay a fast driver than the tax man. That whole outlaw spirit in NASCAR in part is from its roots in the black market.

Bourbon or other American whiskey fueled much of the rock-and-roll rebellion: Van Halen and Mark Anthony's Jack Daniels bass; Jimmy Page swilling Jack straight from the bottle; Slash and Jack; Rick James and Jack in "Glow"--Ok, maybe Jack Daniels fueled the rebellion. But you can't exactly say "F--- Y'all!" with a gin and tonic. Whiskey seems to lend itself to this sort of thing. All this stuff is what's running in the background as America returns to embrace its home-made nectar, and no one has to go to war or run back roads with no headlights to have it, either.

One more story: I'm bartending at a hotel years ago. This blonde woman walks in to my empty bar from the restaurant around the corner. Her body language says she's not happy. Dressed for dinner, with a black skirt, light blouse, and heels, she all but stomps in. She lights a cigarette, asks for a Wild Turkey, neat. I pour, she drinks. She stands for a few moments, taking drags on her cigarette, then asks for another. Again, I pour, she drinks. She throws $20 on the bar, stubs out the butt, says thanks and stomps off. All I was missing were some guitars and distortion. I don't know that this works with a gimlet or Cosmopolitan. Just some more fun facts from Better Guy X.

Better Guy X Goes to Pensacola

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Wed, 04 May 2011 18:46:27 PDT

"Mr. Joyner, your reservation was canceled." This is how my trip to Pensacola, FL started. I was headed to a conference, excited because I'd been recently named to the Board of Directors of the non-profit sponsor and this was my first unofficial conference as a board member. I was chairing a session on civil rights and the Albany Movement. It was supposed to be a great moment, and at 5 pm on Wednesday, 1 hour before my plane leaves, my reservation was deleted from the system. It turns out that because of a snafu in the online system my office uses, it didn't process the approval of my travel until the next Monday! Fortunately, the woman at the desk was able to hop on the phone with the company that supports the online travel system, figure out what happened with my reservation and get me on my flight in time. Later, I'd realize that my return flight was slightly altered, but we'll hold off on that.

Pensacola is a small town in the Florida Panhandle, settled by Spain in or around 1698. However, a small settlement at Pensacola Bay was settled briefly in 1559, which if it counts (and that's not even close to being a sure thing) makes it the oldest settlement in the US (St. Augustine, FL, will beg to differ). The bay leads to the Gulf of Mexico and a connection to other Gulf states. Why does this matter? Because in the world of historic preservation, really old sites have two choices: Leave structures exactly the way they were (or some reasonable facsimile), or; make your interpretation reflect the fact that 450 years has passed since it was founded. Shit changed. In the case of the historic village of Pensacola, they chose the former, including no indoor toilets for a sizable number of buildings. This would include the brewery/bar. Not quite sure how that worked out for many, myself included who had to find a bathroom during a session I attended at a church. Again, I digress.

My visit was preoccupied with attending my first board meeting on Thursday where I:

Met some well-known scholars in the field of public history;
Got volunteered for a new committee;
Shot down an RFP that took one year to draft; and
Used the phrase "nuclear option" to do so.

After my brilliant debut, I took in a few sessions before meeting up with a buddy for some BBQ at Five Sisters on Belmont St. (BBQ was OK, but the sides were tasty!) The "It's a small world" syndrome that I'm known for continue with my meeting several people I'd worked with before at the BBQ joint in between sets.

The next day was the day of the session I was chairing. I pulled my clothes from the closet (What? You know I talk men's style here, right?). The new blue suit from Ralph Lauren was laid on the bed. As I was packing a few nights earlier, Wifey asked "So, you're taking the new suit?" I reply, "Umm, yeah. That's why I bought it." "And you just got it back from the tailor," was her response. I looked at her blankly, and said "What? I should wear the brown shoes?" She turned her back to me at that time and the conversation was over. As I was getting dressed, I realized what her concerns were: 1.) Why did you buy a new suit for this conference? (I didn't, per se, but the conference was in the offing) 2.) How did I get it tailored before she could secretly return it to the store? (My accomplice Joyner Girl #1 went with me) And, 3.) She didn't give a damn what color shoes I wore. (Brown would have been a better choice, but I was determined to only pack one pair of dress shoes).

My session, reflecting on the Albany Movement and Civil Rights 50 years later went well. Started out with a rousing version of "Oh, Freedom," since Dr. Bernice Johnson Reagon said we should begin all meetings with song. The events in Albany during late 1961-1962 made possible the desegregation efforts in Birmingham in 1963. It spurred some great discussion and discovery with the panel and audience. My mission--board meeting and participating in this session--was complete. I spent the rest of the day catching up with friends, celebrating with my panel, and tying up loose ends.

Then comes the flight the next day. Somehow, I didn't notice that my lay-over in Atlanta was slightly longer than original. Sidebar: I've spent more time in the Atlanta airport in the past 4 months than anyone not going to Atlanta ever should. Just check out my Foursquare history. Any way, part of that was because the flights out of Atlanta had the same 4-digit number, save for 1. That meant another hour in the airport, while Wifey waited to shuttle me to a wedding that evening. So, my intricately planned arrival just took a hit. Fortunately, we know the bride and a late start was a guarantee. That gave me time to do my best Clark Kent in the bathroom at Reagan National, don the single-breasted navy pinstripe with white shirt and silver tie and roll out.

. . . and the wedding was lovely.

Quick Hits: 5.1.11

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Sun, 01 May 2011 12:21:48 PDT

Every now and then, something strikes me as so ridiculous that I have to comment on it. Today that would be the Pippa Middleton Ass Appreciation Society on Facebook. No, gentle reader, I'm not kidding.

The posterior of the sister of the newest Duchess of Cambridge has become an Internet sensation worthy of its own Facebook page. She wore a fitted Alexander McQueen gown that showed off the tanned body of the former cricket captain. I only caught a glimpse of the dress as my wife was watching the Clinton Kelly play-by-play of the arrival of the wedding party. Nothing wrong with Phillipa Middleton--she's attractive and outgoing, which is a good combination in a single woman. But are she and her bottom worthy of t-shirts and buttons. In that case, is anyone?

I'm all for admiration. I appreciate a well-shaped ass. I get the Royal leg-humping. But seriously?

Saw a photo of David and Posh Beckham at the wedding and they looked sharp. I expected no less of either of them. He gets it.
In other television spectacles, the ratings for the NFL Draft Day 1 were down 16% over last year. Yes, the whole state of Alabama was without power, but that can't be a good sign for the NFL. Kiss and make up, guys, before money starts being lost.
Raphael Saadiq is channeling Chris Isaak on his "Breaking IN" single for Esquire. Love or hate, I respect his stepping out to try something different. Get a sneak peek here.

Have a good week.

Why is This Man Smiling?

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 11:06:40 PDT

Note the smile and not the huge divot near my shoulder!

This is the very question I was asking myself as the picture was being taken last Friday. Rewind 24 hours, I was pulling my Hickey-Freeman tuxedo out of the storage closet to give it a good brushing before wearing it to a gala for the African American Experience Fund, featuring the Ramsey Lewis Trio. To my horror, I find that moths have made an all-you-can-eat buffet of my suit. There are tiny holes everywhere, including two big ones near each shoulder.

It was my worst nightmare--OK, this wasn't even close, but it damn sure wasn't the sort of impression I wanted to make that evening, so bear with me. The tuxedo was bought at a deep discount and while it could be replaced, I'd never get a similar quality one at the price I'd purchased it originally. And the bigger problem is that I needed to wear it the next day. No time to buy another or rent one. Which meant I'd have to tough it out in a holey tux. For the most part, no one noticed, and I even took a late-evening stroll with a cigar to catch up with my brother and some friends at a new spot. Nothing like making an entrance in a dinner jacket, stubbing out your stogie (Illusione 888, for those who care)

For those asking "How does a dude who purports to know about men's lifestyle issues and style allow his tux to become moth food," here's how. I'm stupid. We've had problems with moths before and although I have cedar closets, they are in need of re-conditioning. I moved the suit to another closet that didn't have the moth issue, but apparently it was too late or I'm sadly mistaken about that closet. Obviously, I'll be storing the suit in a cloth bag with cedar from now on.

The one upside is that I'm sending the suit to Without a Trace, clothing reweavers who specialize in just this sort of thing. My feeling is that if they can repair the suit for $200, it's still cheaper than replacing it and getting it tailored (and getting storage bags). I'll be sure to post the before and after photos once it returns.

Back to Basics #322: Why You Don't Follow Fashion Trends

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Thu, 24 Mar 2011 04:06:04 PDT

Let me tell you about fashion: it is a fickle beast. One moment it wants monochromatic, the next it wants a mish-mash of colors; it will state unequivocally that the suit is dead, shortly before ushering in the next generation of Mad Men acolytes. So when I read this article in the Wall Street Journal, I wasn't surprised. To me, this quote from the article is the harbinger, the messenger Gabriel for the change in direction: "After years of showing snug, skinny and even constricting clothing, some menswear designers are in a more relaxed mood. Fashion houses such as Calvin Klein Collection, Comme des Garçons and Louis Vuitton put fuller, wider cuts in their runway collections for this year, featuring baggy pleated pants and voluminous, flowing shirts and coats." Fashion's a bitch, an indecisive bitch.

When the 80s styles started showing up a few years ago, I was borderline incredulous. Young girls wearing neon fishnets, ripped t-shirts, and Chuck Taylors; young dudes with hi-top fades, white Wayfarers, and Airforce 1's. "It's too soon," I thought. But it's been about 30 years, so it was right on time, actually. And just like that, Georgio Armani's signature look showed up in magazines, and look books started to remind me of the Spandau Ballet video "True." This is the beginning of the new reality. Why? because fashion is cyclical, ephemeral. In 4-5 years, full and voluminous will be in every Loehman's, Macy's, and French Connection. So, don't throw out all of your fitted (or skinny) clothes; there's plenty of time for you to enjoy the fitted clothing you bought over the past few years (and buy more, if you like). For men, the changes take longer, since generally we don't overhaul our wardrobes at the same rate as fashionable women.

This, my friends, is why you can't be a slave to fashion. At Be Better Guys, we say that fit and function should always be the bell weather for what you get. Understanding what works for your body and what you're buying the item for (seasonal wear, event-specific, etc) are crucial. Then, what colors do you need (not to mention what colors work best on you). This is not to say that fashion doesn't have anything to offer. The move to flat-front pants and more fitted clothing has been a plus for most men. Recognizing what about the trend works and incorporating it into your style is what you want to do. But the extremes are the issue with fashion. Not everyone needs skinny jeans, skinny tees, or Thom Browne-inspired suits. Ironically, Browne is moving toward a more generous silhouette this Fall. And I think pleats are involved, too.

Now, break out those Genie pants, it's Hammer Time!

No, I'm Not a Jerk, I'm Socially Networked!

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 20:10:30 PST

Today, I walked past an interesting building, noticed something and take a picture with my phone. I immediately upload the photo to my Facebook profile and link it to a fan page I follow. Later, I announce my pleasure at being nominated to the board of a professional association on LinkedIn. Then I send an email to a colleague looking for something on her desk from my other smart phone. I have two smart phones, one because of a new position I'm in at work.

The day before while I was traveling for work, I checked in on Four Square, adding a silly photo of conventioneers at my hotel. As I entered a famous historic site, I check in again, acknowledging my awe at the surroundings. Before I purchased an album on iTunes, I had to figure out if I wanted to drop it straight to my phone, since I wouldn't be at my laptop for another day. This was before I checked my multiple email accounts and says nothing of the Tumblr page, Twitter page, or updates to Y! Buzz, de.li.ci.ous, StumbleUpon, or Digg (Thank you for RSS feeds).

And just as I begin to think I'm the biggest tool in the world, I read this. Since I live in DC, it makes sense that I'm knee-deep in all of this. According to Men's Health, DC is the most socially networked city in America. Now realize, a lot of this is for y'all--y'all being fans of Be Better Guys, those who follow BetterGuyX and the like. But I'd be lying if I didn't acknowledge that I like much of the geek-itude. For those who care, the list goes something like this:

1 Washington, DC     A+
2 Atlanta, GA     A+
3 Denver, CO     A+
4 Minneapolis, MN     A+
5 Seattle, WA     A+
6 San Francisco, CA     A
7 Orlando, FL     A
8 Austin, TX     A
9 Boston, MA     A
10 Salt Lake City, UT     A-

Not sure how we beat San Francisco, except that everyone there uses apps. Hmm, need to get more apps. . . .

Scents and Sex: Smell Like Coffee to Get Lucky in NYC

noreply@blogger.com (Better Guy X) — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 04:39:53 PST

I have a nephew who is exactly the sort of person AXE markets its products to: young guys looking for whatever edge they can to help them meet women. So I dropped a mother lode of AXE product on him the other day--body wash, deodorant, body spray, hair pomade, you name it--stuff BBG received to review. As I was looking for an email address to offer a heartfelt thanks, I came across a study AXE and the Smell and Taste Treatment & Research Foundation did to figure out what smells turn on women in the top 10 US cities for singles.

Color me skeptical regarding this study, but the whole process of picking a scent that women will like can be (and frequently is) a crap shoot. I know those who argue differently (yes, Barney of Fragrant Moments, I see you) so, I encourage the debate. Nephew, this is for you, and let me apologize to my sister and her family who will become enveloped in clouds of smell good.

56% of girls say they won’t date a guy who smells like their dad.

· 1 in 4 girls will wait anywhere from two weeks to a month before washing their sheets in order to keep their guy’s scent under the covers.

· 2 out of 3 women (66 percent) said they would be more likely to make out with a guy on the first date if he smelled good.

· One out of two girls admits that she has committed theft by stealing an article of clothing from a guy to smell when he’s gone.

· More than half of girls (58 percent) sleep in their guy’s clothes because they like his lingering aroma.

· 60 percent of girls still remember the smell of their ex’s cologne.