Fueled by The Sartorialist


It feels like some sort of exercise day. I have a handful of pictures of well dressed Europeans from The Sartorialist. I could do some character sketches.

At first you might think Tom was a well-dressed longshoreman or a transplanted pirate with his full brown beard and woolen pea coat. He stands a hand span above most other men you know but he’s not overly broad for his height, so you’d never think ‘mountain of a man’ in your head. His voice pitches incongruously high and soft for his size. You want him to bellow; you want him to roar and be gruff and bearish and dumb, but he won’t. Tom’s a librarian.

Well, Tom’s not a librarian, he’s the librarian.

If Tom is a librarian masquerading as a seaman then Collin is a coke addict, rapist, and killer pretending to studentry. From his short-collared Oxford shirt to his blue knit vest and skinny jeans he looks safe. He looks like he might join the boys on the pitch later for a bit of field hockey. The worn jean jacket he dons in the Fall softens his bony frame and drapes more like a sport coat. Eventually his clothing can’t distract you from his scrawny chin, unslept eyes, and Clorox-whitened curls. His black eyebrows sweep too far back toward his ears and never arch happily.

225 words on day 695