by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. A few years before my excellent state graduate school destroyed the promise of accessible public education and raised tuition to the same levels as the privates, my hou...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. Simon Crompton’s Bespoke Style is a shout from another period into the void that has been this past year. For the past decade, Crompton has been an infuriatingly disar...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. It’s embarrassing to admit it, but to this day coffee, especially ground, unbrewed coffee, smells somehow sophisticated and elegant to me. It’s been that way since I w...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. 150 years ago, Alexandre Dumas introduced two minor characters to dinner at the Count of Monte Cristo’s, dressing them perfectly for the occasion in brand-new clothes ...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. It was time. Like some death cart from Daniel Defoe’s A Journal of the Plague Year, which my morbid ass had reread at the beginning of confinement, I made the rounds, ...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. Has the current age finally dulled this old saw generations of uncreative hacks repeated? Since the 1980s, mainstream men’s clothing magazines would run the very occas...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. To quote the great Takeshi Kaga, “If memory serves me right, Christmas is just around the corner.” And with it, a tightening of the tension between cocooned self-indu...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. Those of us who (pace Black Sabbath) sold our soul for #steez know the inner duel. Inside us, our better angels, those attempting to persuade us to better ourselves b...