midweSTYLE: Gwynn Hall

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.
With their monogrammed monograms and pearls upon pearls and coral lips strolling through the Quad.
Toned and crisp, all tanned and sun-kissed from their summer trysts at “the Lake.”
Their sun signed noses with freckles from their hours spent crosswording, reading but mostly latte-ing.
Skinny jeans that hug, hug, hug, cropped above those sky-high pumps for nights out, clutch in hand.
Bright planners peep out from Longchamps & Speedys to say hello for all their appointments, events, dates.
Oh, ladies.

I digress.
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.

MansMan - To much ankle. The pants need to be an inch longer so you can cuff 1 inch, and show 1 inch of ankle 2 inches at most. Be thankful we have color, even though you’re going for something monochromatic and minimalist, try a dash of color maybe with the shoes or hat or perhaps both. And for that matter try a suede saddle shoe. Great idea though, love the minimalism.

Azalea - I went to Kansas State and the limestone building remind me of it. LOVE your blog!

abonnenfant - Those are great chinos. Do they sell them online anywhere? Can’t seem to find a link to a shop on their Web site.


Cameron - Were you an english major?

I Art Fashion - I can just imagine all the girls you just describe… :)

Awesome color on the Allen Edmonds


Katie Stipanovich - Jeff you are making me miss college! Stop it…I was in such a good place before this post.

Gwynn Hall. Sigh.


I’ll be honest: I’ve been a fan of Paul Rudd ever since he first appeared in Friends as Mike Hannigan, Phoebe’s longest love interest and eventual husband, and in Clueless as Josh Lucas, Cher’s ex-stepbrother. Minor roles, sure, but I loved them nonetheless. Then there was Wet Hot American Summer. Before long, Rudd was acting and starring in some of the funniest comedies in recent history: Anchorman, 40-Year-Old-Virgin, Knocked Up, I Love You Man, Forgetting Sarah Marshall.
Beyond all that, Rudd is something of a hometown hero. Having moved to Kansas City when he was ten, Paul remains a regular visitor to the city and a huge Chiefs fan. Hell, he even narrated their season of Hard Knocks on HBO. In interviews, you can sense both his humility and his humor. He’s a professional who never makes the mistake of taking himself too seriously. As he once told Nylon, “I hear people talk about ‘the craft,’ and I just think, ‘Oh, you’re so full of shit.’”
Also, he’s pretty damn good looking. As one Elle writer once wrote, Rudd is “better looking that your neighbor but not so gorgeous that he couldn’t play your neighbor in a movie.” Plus, we’re pretty big proponents of men who are just as comfortable in a week’s worth of unshaven scruff and T-shirts as they are in a tailored suit. Paul, of course, is one of these men. He’s also a Jayhawk. While that is something that we’re willing to overlook, his swagger is something we simply cannot.
*Try not to stare into those eyes for too long, ladies.

Amy Creyer - Paul Rudd was even hot in My Idiot Brother, which I just saw in theaters this weekend. He’s surprisingly versatile. I’m happy to see him getting different types of comedy roles now. When he first started I thought he was going to be pigeon-holed as a dry comedian like Jason Bateman.

Michael - I actually met him when he was filming “How Do You Know?” on my block in Washington DC. I told him I had been a fan since Wet Hot American Summer and he seemed genuinely thankful for my comment. Very humble, down to earth guy from what I could tell. He deserves all his successes.

dani - Hell. Yeah.

Ohhh the weather outside is weather…

mallory wiegers - JAYHAWK NATION

Kayla - Oh, swoon. I keep hoping that since I’m a KC native, I’ll randomly run into him on the street.

Alas, I think it’s just a pipe dream.

Weekend Review: Late August

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.

Dear Snarky,
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!

closetfullofhappiness - Jeff, I think you’re HOT no matter what everybody else says!! haha And I love your reply to Snarky!

Raquel - You guys are hilarious. Glad you’re getting the recognition you deserve! (Minus Snarky McSnark.)

stefany - Re: that last paragraph. That was, however, the snark I’m always looking for. Well done.

Nick - Jeff is on the top of every “good looking” list I have in my head.

Back to School….Or Work.

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.


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?

Seth J. Putnam - Mallory, I expect you to bring me that tie when you take me out come November.

Abi, the Y2K stockpiles haven’t run out yet.

mallory wiegers - love some rifle paper co. jefe. seth, i expect you to wear that tie when you take me out come november.

Abi - @Seth, didn’t you forget to put White-out on your list?

martawillcox - omg i want a barbour jacket soooo bad.

David Dawson - Jeff, what’s that bag you’re swinging? Is that the one that was fortuitously gifted to you by a roommate? Regardless, it’s awesome.

James - The railroad spike cuff is pretty awesome. I wish that I accessorized better.

Aimee - Love this post. I’m a new fan, but I really enjoy the style of your guys’ writing. Check out my back to (work) wishlist here


Keep up the good work boys. You’ve got a lady admirer in San Francisco :)

Adrian - That hoofpick belt is nice, but at $138, it’s really pricey. On my wishlist is one from Narragansett Leathers for $47.

“You’ll grow into it.” — A Personal History

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.


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.

dani - I am LOVING this! I just started a “Flashback Fridays” feature on my blog and the amount of embarrassing photos I’ve gone through in the last week is both tragic and hilarious! :)

<3 The Daily Dani

annogus - This is really hilarious and great. Love the personal history. maybe could’ve ended it with a “now” photo just to show the full journey. :)

Hope the other dudes do one too!

Guest Author - Is that Brett Michaels in that first high school picture?