It’s that time. And because I’m so distraught that Jeff has left the country, I can hardly bring myself to create anything original. So we’ll use this time to survey the goings on of the ‘Net this week.
Oh, and we realized something today. We’ve been at this menswear thing for just over year. Our first post went up on Jan. 27, 2011. But that’s the way we prefer it: not too much fanfare, and we’ll just keep doing that thing we do. But thanks for sticking with us for the past 372 days. It’s been wild.
Here’s our fourth and final post for Details Magazine:
For Mom—or more aptly The Commodore, considering the tight ship she kept—handwritten notes were a sacred art. After each birthday or Christmas present, a forced marathon of grateful notecards was guaranteed.
It’s an art that’s nearly lost. These are the days of email. The days of emoticons, text-speak and unfinished drafts. The days of flitting between open computer windows because something might have happened on Twitter in the 45 seconds you were thinking of what to say next.
Done well, a handwritten note trumps everything else. It’s a deep breath—a pause from the daily free-for-all—and it carries an inherent thoughtfulness and permanence text messages and emails will never have.
That’s all. We endorse keeping it brief.