Prints, Preps, and imPressions.

Hello again. When last we met I laid out for you a couple of crucial style intersections and made it very plain that Sketchers brand shoes were forged in hell. Now, in order for you to take my  disdain, apathy, and general Ricky Approvals  as word; I figured I’d take some time to map out my tastes. This is some stuff that I like:

My new and favorite shirt.

Patterns scare me. Often they’ll seem like a perfectly lovely spring solution to winter’s past drudgery, and then you realize you don’t have the balls required to actually wear a pink, Lycra polo with tiny sunglasses etched all over it (Patent Pending!).

So, lemme break it down: This Ben Sherman, cropped Oxford with its simple floral print can be your reasonable solution to a desire to spring-up and step-out. In a Rembrandtean sprawl, the shirt looks like polka dots from afar, but rewards the curiosity of those willing to come a little closer with an original floral print. That’s right, I promise it will draw those with taste to you. And honestly, polka dots are great too, guys. For men, patterns are awesome to dabble in, and frankly easier for ladies to screw up with so many moomoo, 90210, floral dress pedlars out there. Think Dressbarn… Fashion Bug… Talbots… infinity.

No Litter, no Bed, no Jitter, but Fashion: The most insidious BUG of them all.

I got the Ben Sherman shirt for my Birthday, and each time I wear it I get no less than four complements a day. My 6 ft. tall and intrinsically testosterony friend Matt squealed with joy at it, saying, “What a DELIGHTFUL shirt!”, before even saying hello. So, this shirt also turns men into woman, straw to gold, and wearing patterns into a good idea. One of those is false. Buy it and find out which, but get it in a different color than me. I’m not saying I’d kill someone wearing my same outfit, but It has yet to happen, so I can say I don’t know what I would do…

Member's Only and Cut-Offs, So SoCal. Slouch and dirt-stache not included. Void where prohibited.

I went to Los Angeles recently on business and went ape-shit at this thrift store, Jet Rag near Venice. LA has a distinct style I totally dig. I came out with two gems: this tan Member’s only Jacket and a Black, meshy, vintage, Ocean Pacific sweat shirt that looks like it’s been splatter painted and beach worn. Now, I know what you’re thinking. MO jackets have been kicking around for ages and just won’t quit. Cro-magnon man had three things, a sloping brow, a club, and a Members Only jacket. God I wish I had that picture!

But they’re so comfy! Especially for spring when lightweight is all you can bear to wear. Also, the bomber type collar is timelessly smart. I clean out my closet each major season and I always leave the MO’s because I know they’ll come creeping back into my lexicon, as evident by this picture of me wearing the same tan Members Only jacket when I was 4:

A serious dedication to travel-wear since 1986. My cousin David ain't messin around either.

Who says you can't go home? Not this guy.

In addition, here are some glasses I recently bought to replace a pair I’m certain this mother and daughter helped me break or lose on that same trip to LA.

If they're not on my face they need to stand out so I can find them 😦

I had the Window seat in-flight and when I returned from the bathroom, they were looking under my seat all suspicious like and speaking in Japanese. Haven’t seen my sensible work glasses since, so I bought these ones with a stronger look.

Here are some other looks I’d like to pull together by Summer’s end:

Finely Fitted.

I like my arms. Most of us have nice ones. Tank control of your assets this summer!

Cool and transcontinental.

and lastly, cuffs are back in, so get in gear.

Welp, that’s my taste, for now anyways. There’s a preppy leisure to spring/summer that I find irresistible. I sure hope we line up. The potential to impress is implicit in style, especially when everyone’s out and about. So, What will you whip up?


About Ricky Tucker

Fashionably set above and below the mason Dixon for cocktail hour. I once owned a black sweat shirt with a singular gash of black puff paint across the front. I called it my nihilist sweater. Like it, my hope is to negate or accentuate the self through attire, basically light up a room.

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