You can always tell who the freshmen are on Mizzou’s campus because everything they own is fresh, rigid and brand new.
Like, fresh-from-the-factory fresh, tag-recently-plucked fresh.
Fresh-faced ladies with their fresh backpacks and fresh dreams, majors, aspirations and hopes.
Oh, the ladies.
If I were going back to school this fall, I’d stick to my “I-need-to-be-awake-but-put-together” with a button down and chinos. Something that says to my professor, “I enjoy your lectures and your intelligence—and I would like to meet with you after class…to not talk about class over beers at Shakespeare’s.”
One of my favorite parts about this unique short-sleeve button down is the middle seam that runs straight through the middle of the garment. Quirky? A little. It’s a nice touch in breaking up the shirt, making it subtle and casual.
One of the better-fitting pair of chinos I own is the “Davis” Chino by Club Monaco. Slim cut, medium rise, chino-style pockets. I sized down in these and am surprised at how well they hold their fit and feel. I’m definitely stocking up on them when the new fall colors come out. For me, it fits better than J.Crew’s Urban Slim Fit, and I used to swear by those.
On Jeff: White short sleeve buton down by rag & bone; the “Davis” chino by Club Monaco; thrifted Allen Edmonds; ivory straw hat with chambray fabric from Target; camper watch by Timex.
The Midwestyle Boys reunited in Missouri again for yet another weekend wedding.
But first, let’s congratulate Seth. After ushering three weddings, Seth was promoted from Usher to
Bridesmaid Groomsman. Well done, Seth! And while Seth was slinging back brews with bros at bachelor parties and watching baseball, Cam and I took a moped for a spin. Booyah.
Yes, that’s a moped.
Yes, those are my scrawny legs.
Yes, we are spooning.
Noteworthy news we’re excited to share with you:
- Seth, Brad and Max were named among the cutest men’s style bloggers in Chicago. (Refinery 29) Why was Jeff missing? Blame the scale. Where was Ryan? Blame it on Yeezy.
You’re right. Our clothes aren’t real. We actually spend a lot of time rehearsing and practicing our poses with DJ Khalid stroking our egos
. I force Seth to rehearse every evening by walking over a flaming pile of tie clips. I also make Cameron not shave for weeks on end and tell him he’s not perfect until he looks like Phillip Crangi
I’m a slave driver, Anonymous. You found out our secret: We’re models pretending to be real people, and we run a tight ship around here where everything is forced, the deadlines are insane, and our editorial calendar is so packed that we’re thinking about quitting our (real) jobs so we can be more authentic for you. These are not the droids you’re looking for.
Hope you had a great weekend!
We Mizzou alumni (and current Tiger) are beginning to gear up for fall.
So, we rounded up some goods we wouldn’t mind getting our paws on.
“BACK TO (WORK) SCHOOL FALL WISHLIST:”
Jeff’s Back to
School Work Wishlist:
Seth’s Back to
School Work Wishlist:
Cam’s Back to
Work School Wishlist:
What’s on your Back to School Wishlist?
Or if you’re in the working world, like Seth and I, what are you treating yourself to in celebration of fall?
A red baseball cap is the first thing I remember about clothes.
It said “Little Slugger” (Sluggard?), it had elastic on the back, and it was the best. When I lost it in Jo-Ann Fabrics while my mom was shopping for costume patterns, I cried. I probably even untucked my shirt in red-eyed frustration. That, of course, would have been a major infraction in the Putnam household. If we were “going in to town,” my shirt tails better have been secured.
So, this was me as a little kid in the early 1990s: Collared, short-sleeve shirt held hostage by my waistline, navy or khaki slacks, and classic blue Keds.
Pretty standard if you’re homeschooled.
On the farm in the rolling hills of southwest Missouri, it was a different story. I had some autonomy, most of which was exercised on Big Smith overalls, double-layered flannel shirts, and oversized, knee-high mud boots.
THE EARLY YEARS
No, your eyes are not deceiving you. There are two flannel shirts in this picture. Yes, one has cut-off sleeves.
As the youngest of four kids, hand-me-downs dictated the contents of my dresser drawers. We thrifted often—Goodwill on 32nd Street in Joplin was mom’s favorite designer store. “You can find Dockers,” she’d say. “Banana Republic’s there, if you look hard.” Yes, Mom, the cream of the crop.
The number of times overalls appear in these pictures is proportional to the percentage of my wardrobe they occupied in the early years. I wish I could say that I never wore overalls in to town. I wish I could say that I didn’t wear overalls almost every day in sixth and seventh grades. I wish I could lie.
Right around high school, things took a turn for the confusing. As the grudging victim of a dress code, my wardrobe was converted to trousers and collared shirts. I lusted for full-price jeans from the coolest store in Northpark Mall: American Eagle. Every once in a while, we’d splurge.
Proof that I was a master of this picture-pose long before I’d ever even heard of Oak Park High School. Not sure what’s going on here: Cargo pants, polo, camo, misshaped cowboy hat? And I’m pretty sure that’s a “Vote for Pedro” ringer T-shirt underneath. I wish I could confidently say this was a spirit day at school, but it’s not far enough outside the realm of possibility for normal 11th-grade attire. Except the hats, obviously. Those weren’t allowed. And that lunch box was one of the sweetest things ever.
Fairly standard, ill-fitting suit option for a school formal. At least I wasn’t wearing a pastel tuxedo like the other guys.
But mostly, my closet was stocked with the cast-offs from my brother’s school attire from nine years earlier. (Remember what I said about hand-me-downs?) Threadbare Arrow shirts, khakis with a 32-inch waist.
White collar. Blue undershirt. Lookin’ good.
Mom and Dad’s explanation? “You’ll grow into them, son.” Made sense at the time. Buying a size larger was hardwired into my purchasing decisions. But the joke was on me; I stopped growing right around the time I turned 15.
One time, at JBU: Free at last from high school dress codes, my freshman year was mostly characterized by trucker hats, T-shirts, light-wash jeans, flip-flops, and Jack Johnson.
College was the first time I ever wore sweatpants to class. I fell asleep. I began to wonder if what you wear actually does affect your performance. Back in high school, that was the administration’s reason for the seemingly oppressive dress code, but I never believed them. Until I started wearing a tie on exam days.
Then I noticed the way my 40-year-old brother dressed for work. Shirt, tie, pants that weren’t too big. His care with his appearance showed his care for his work and his family of four. I noticed kids whose pants were closer to their knees than their waists. I noticed that a man dresses differently than a boy. And I noticed a difference when I tried it on for size. I was more alert, more put together, more effective. The mental pumps were primed.
When it comes to what you wear, you’re presenting yourself. Sure, it’s an opportunity showcase your individuality. But more importantly, it’s a chance to say “Here I am. Expect this.”
Style? It’s an extension of reputation. You grow into it.
While I was in New York last month, I did some damage.
Single twenty-something guy who is caught up on most of his students loans and was looking to get some transitional pieces for my fall wardrobe. Plus, I had a really great month in sales. So, on Thursday night I decided I was going to pull some strings*, jet set to New York in the morning for the weekend. It was my first time to see the city for the first time. (First time? I know, right)
Let’s just say I walked away with a head-turning prize from Opening Ceremony (post to come soon) and an armful of goods worthy of asking, “Can you ship this?” back to Chicago from rag & bone.
Rag & Bone
was among the brands that caught my eye the most when it came to their inventory, that and the price was nice, considering it was their end of season sale. It also didn’t hurt me either considering all the malnourished gentlemen of New York City missed out on grabbing the leftover smalls, 36 chests and 28 waists. Because this guy did.
Two of my many finds were:
- A midnight (read as: navy) medium rise seersucker trousers.
- A white button down that looks like confetti frosting.
(You can’t really see the color speckled through the top in these photos, blame Seth.)
I feel classy, polished and fresh when I wear the navy and camel combo. Something about it pairing these colors together channels a very relaxed yet refined vibe that adds a pep in my step. A clear and fresh face along with catching the L train just before it departs doesn’t hurt either.
On Jeff: Feather suede jacket (thrifted $15) by Lanvin; confetti white button down (sale $70, reg $200) by rag & bone; navy seersucker trousers (sale $90, reg $300) by rag & bone; Lexington oxfords (sale $50) by Florsheim; leather clutch (yard sale $2) by Coach;
*My cousin is a flight attendant. Cheap flights. Bingo.
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