midweSTYLE: Desert Boots Resoled

So, after a little over two years, I wore a hole straight through the crepe sole of my Clarks desert boots. After a round of violent weeping and gnashing of teeth, I was prepared to hold a burial service, or another memorial of similar gravitas. These felt like the boots I became a man in, or something. 

While the term "essential" is egregiously overused, desert boots are one of a handful of items that actually deserve the title. They go with damn near everything, and I found myself wearing them almost every day for a year or so—a default for my feet. Thus, when they were finally unwearable, I was just short of devastated. 

Then came the decision. Do I pitch them? Buy a new pair? Do I spring for a resole? WHAT DO I DO NOW?

What it really came down to was whether I should re-support Clarks, who was probably going to just fine if I didn't, or whether I should put money toward a local cobbler to hook me up with a new sole. 

In that light, the answer made itself abundantly clear. 

Tucked away in the shadows of the Francis Quadrangle's infamous columns, on 8th Street in Columbia, Missouri, sits a little shop called Dawson's Shoe Repair. I had walked by countless times, never giving the unassuming brick storefront a second thought—that is, until I wore a hole in the sole of one of my most beloved possessions. 

Inside, I was greeted by a friendly man named Bob who took my Clarks, offered me a slew of resoling options, and promised to do his best with the monster ripple soles I had chosen. Bob, who has worked at Dawson's since he completed his service in the Air Force in 1971, made quick work of my order and after a few days, I had fallen back in love with my old, worn-out desert boots. When it was all said and done, the price tag came to $75 to have my well-loved boots resurrected with a patina and sole that I don't think you'll find anywhere else. Compare that to the $100 I might have spent on a pair of new boots, and I'd say I came out with the better end of the deal.

The only task left is to find a fitting nickname. Suggestions welcome.

On Cameron: "The Henley" in California wash by Baldwin Denim; green waffle henley by Old Navy; striped shirt by Steven Alan; submariner watch by Military Watch Co.; whiskey tortoise "Preston" eyeglasses by Warby Parker; desert boots by Clarks, resole by Bob Wood at Dawson's Shoe Repair. 

Photography by Jarred Donalson.

midweSTYLE: West Bottoms

Every now and again, I'll do a round of thrifting in my home neighborhood in Kansas City. If I've recently gotten a paycheck, I get a little chance-y and pick up pieces that I know I'll probably never wear. Some of them are ill-fitting, others are just ridiculous, and more than not, they end up in my closet unworn. If you thrift with any regularity, you've been there. You know that feeling. You don't need it, and you don't really even want it that badly, but you grab it just in case. After all, it only costs ¢50 or a few bucks. If worse comes to worst, it would make for a good Halloween costume at some point in the future. 

Anyway, that was the story behind this blazer, initially. I didn't have a go-to blue blazer at the time, so I bought it, even though it didn't really fit. The shoulders framed me well enough and the chest wasn't bad, but it had a huge waist measurement. The gentleman that owned it before definitely had a belly. Seriously, Santa Claus status. Regardless, I bought it for a staggering $4.50. A navy blue, American-made, hopsack blazer for under $5? Sure.

After a few lonely months in the closet, I finally took it to get tailored. Tailoring thrifted clothing sounds and feels a little unnatural. Taking something that you bought dirt cheap and investing another $25 to $75 seems wrong at first. But, if the piece is of high enough quality, the investment is well worth the fit and wearability that comes with tailored clothing. I've gotten a jacket or two fitted, some legs of old trousers tapered, waists taken in. It can turn a forgotten thrift store purchase into one of your wardrobe favorites. In this case, the arms ride up a bit, making them appear a little shorter, but hey, it's perfect everywhere else.

Clarks, beat to death.

On Cameron: hopsack blazer, thrifted ($4.50), tailored for $45; patchwork button-down (eBay) by Gitman Vintage; cream sweatshirt (sale, $80 at the Baldwin Men's Shop) by Todd Snyder; the Henley in California wash, (sale at the Baldwin Men's Shop $116, reg. $232), by Baldwin Denim; beeswax desert boots (gift) by Clarks; WWII-era Russian watch (Etsy, $30) by Vostok; leather wrap (gift) by Tanner Goods; recycled cotton socks (Christmas gift purchased from Hickoree's), by Solmate Socks.

Photography by the one and only Grant Heinlein, check him out!

midweSTYLE: Campus

7:57 A.M.

It's midterm season. You hit the quad, half walking, half running, panicking because your bike got a pinch flat back on University Avenue and you had to lock it up and ditch it by Mumford Hall, but your class is over off 6th St.

You had five minutes then. Now you're down to three.

You didn't sleep last night; you didn't have that luxury. Eating, that wasn't exactly on the agenda either. You're breathing though, running over a general timeline of early medieval history again in your head. Professor said exact dates weren't necessary, so you subconsciously purged those. Diocletian. Constantine. The Council of Nicaea. You know this is all living in your short-term memory, trying to bleed back out.

You need to get this down on paper. Now.

You bust through the auditorium doors. Heads turn, people stare. Whatever. You're past embarrassment. You sit, loudly. That TA, the one who always wears the sweat-stained Cardinals hat and a smug, condescending frown, he hands you the exam. Your eyes close. Open. You check the essay questions first. You always check the essay questions first. Pressure releases, you've got those on lock. Multiple choice takes care of itself. You write, and write, and write, shaking slightly from the triple espresso you put down a few hours ago. But it's not long before it's all over. You turn in the exam, with an unexpected confidence in your performance. You leave content. You're walking back across the quad, tired, but more than elated that that midterm is over. Maybe just more excited that you have an opportunity to relax.

And it's then that you stop and look around. You take it in. The leaves. The colors. You'd been ignoring them for the past few days—too busy. But your studying is over now. You hear the soft rustle of leaves being trampled underfoot. You inhale the crisp air. It feels good. And your once overwhelmed and over distracted mind can ignore it no longer.

Fall is here.

Fall, for me, is primarily about two things: layers and fabrics. Flannels, wools, thick-knits. Jackets over sweaters over shirts, with scarves on top. Hats too, sometimes. Put on boots, any boots. And don't forget tweed. Fall is your time to experiment. It's your chance to find who you are, sartorially. Throw on some sportcoats. Or don't, it's your call. But really, above all, have fun. Clothes can be fun. They should be fun.

Wear a watch. You should know what time it is without fishing your iPhone out of your pocket. Plus, watch straps are the new way to display your personality (sarcasm). But in all seriousness, start collecting. Or just buy this.

Fall is also a great time to break in a fresh pair of raw denim. Or, if your selvedge collection is already three or so deep, get on that duck canvas jam. You'll be glad you did.

On Cameron: thrifted herringbone blazer by Hill and Archer, thrifted heather grey sweater by Ireland Group; Kurabo denim in the 77 fit by Baldwin Denim; thrifted blue oxford by Gant, beeswax desert boots by Clarks; military watch by Timex.

Photography by Mallory Wiegers.

THRIFTY THURSDAY: Retro Crewneck

Dismayed by the fact that we haven't published anything particularly thrifty recently, Jeff did us a solid and shouldered the responsibility of finding something sweet. On short notice, he smartly chose to focus his efforts at Seek Vintage.

Though a bit pricier (and obviously a better caliber) than Goodwill, the D.A.V., Salvation Army, Village Discount Outlet, etc., Seek almost always yields something affordable and worthwhile. This visit was no exception. He came away with a wool-blend crew neck sweater that's the perfect palette to catapult us into fall.

He came over, we shot some photos in the harsh light of a nearby parking garage. And that's that, mattress man.

On Jeff: Wool-blend retro crewneck sweater ($20, Seek Vintage); indigo button-up courtesy of Topman; rust-colored trousers (sale $20, reg. $70) by Zara; desert boots (sale $50 at Nordstrom Rack) by Clark's.

midweSTYLE: Whiny pants

Colored denim. You're seeing 'em on the ladies and some of the more trend-driven men on campus, in the streets, on the runways and in the magazines.

Cool? Sure.
Novelty? Yes.
Wearable? Totally.
Worth spending your money on? Your call.

For me, it is. How do I know?
Run through this checklist of questions. If you answer "no" to a majority of these, then I suggest investing elsewhere:

• Do you have a well-loved pair of dark wash, selvedge denim you can wear every day?
• Do you have a sharp pair of dark grey chinos to throw on for a change?
• Do you have a slick pair of black jeans to pair with a classic desert boot?
• Do you have a broken-in pair of corduroys you can toss on with a sweater?

If you don't have any of the items above, I'd consider focusing on those before you stop at the front of the store with the "latest and greatest" trends companies are pushing.

I answered yes, so I found a cheap pair from Uniqlo. In this case, wine-colored denim.

Fresh cut, too. My stylist, Kara of barbara & barbara, threw it down with a master fade.

You also know you're in good hands when your hair stylisy says,

"I'm going to geek out on your neck line for 15 minutes, cool?"

On Jeff: Slim-fit twill "Wine" denim by Uniqlo; two-button, notch lapel "Marine" cotton blazer by A.P.C.; slim-fit, short-sleeve button-up by rag & bone; leather desert boots by Clarks.

Photos by Haley Hastings.

midweSTYLE: Bridge

REAL TALK: I rarely have a very good reason to wear a tie. Honestly, events that necessitate ties in my life are few and far between. I mean, outside of the occasional wedding or sorority formal, opportunities to appropriately don neckwear are fairly infrequent. That means that when I wear them, it's typically for no reason at all. I'm not going to the office, I'm just going to class. If Mizzou were a little more Ivy, that may be normal. But in a place where T-shirts and sweatpants reign supreme, I figure most people just assume I'm a professor.

Now, switching gears, the comment we tend to get most when it comes to buying from thrift stores or vintage resale shops goes something like this: "I just don't have the patience to sift through all the inevitable crap to find what I'm actually looking for." While thrifting often leaves you frustrated and empty handed, I think I've come to realize why I genuinely enjoy it to the degree that I do. The prices are obviously the biggest draw, yes, but there are secondary elements to the thrift store experience that make it something that is, while tedious at times, still very worth while. For me, I love that it harkens back to a time when United States manufacturing was still king, before outsourcing apparel construction became the new black. There's something strangely satisfying about putting on a piece of clothing whose tag reads, "Made in the U.S.A." You guys know what I'm talking about, right?

LASTLY: Sorry for going YouTube crazy. Also, we're a handful of followers short of four digits on Twitter. Lets do this, team.

On Cameron: Blue oxford (thrifted, $2) made in the U.S.A. by Arrow Brigade, 15.5 neck; striped tie (gift from a lovely woman) by Kincora Irish Tweeds; brass tie bar (thrifted, $2); woven belt (thrifted, $4); chinos (UO, sale $10) by Dockers, size 31; desert boots (Christmas gift '09) by Clarks, size 10; "Preston" eyeglasses (online, $95) by Warby Parker; rope bracelet (homemade).

Photography by Jarred Donalson

Thrifty Thursday: Rackin' it

Editor's Public Service Announcement: Just in case you didn't see Twitter or Facebook earlier this week, we did (finally) pick winners for the bow-tie challenge. Thanks for the reminders, questions and general cleverness about our tardiness. It would appear the interns really dropped the ball on this one. (We gave them one job—one job...). In any event, the lucky two were:

• Drew Jones Art
• mah5160

Congrats to the winners, and to the rest of you: Be sure and enter next time. We think the interns have learned their lesson. If pulling outhouse duty doesn't teach them, I don't know what will.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming:

There are a few places you're sure to find things cheap. Wal-Mart. McDonald's. On the apparel side of things, you'll get anything you find in a dumpster for free, garage sales almost always guarantee low prices, and thrift stores are nice for weakening the blow to your finances. But then there are times you're itching for something new, something that hasn't been washed and loved on by somebody else, something with price tags still attached—but price tags with small numbers on them. Enter Nordstrom Rack.

You see, there is no Nordstrom Rack in Kansas City (yet), so I had not encountered one until our recent wedding field trip to St. Louis. I'm not much of a planner, and I'm even less of a packer, so when time came to put together a bag to take to the Lou, I threw some underwear and toiletries in my Wanderer and grabbed some hanging shirts out of my closet in an effort to use as little energy as possible. And then I set off, without too many wedding appropriate items in tow. "I'll buy some in St. Louis," I thought. As you may have guessed, I'm also a procrastinator, so at about seven in the evening on the eve of the wedding day, I set out to find some shoes and some neckwear. Nordstrom Rack would have a moderately priced selection of both, I was told.

Granted, Nordstrom stocks a lot of things that I consider unwearable, for whatever reason. But, at the same time, the Rack had a nice array of Clarks, Top-Siders, and Florsheims, all at about half off. The tie collection was just as appealing and twice as cheap. I walked away with a pair of black suede Clarks desert boots for $50 and a $15 Rooster polka dot bow tie. Two items that will get a lot of wear. Two items that I avoided paying full price for. I think this is called winning.

Bow tie (Nordstrom Rack, $15) by Rooster; cotton oxford (thrifted, $3) by Arrow, medium; slim cotton chinos (Urban Outfitters, sale $10) by Dockers, size 31; leather belt (stolen from my father—thanks, dad); suede desert boots (Nordstrom Rack, $50) by Clarks, size 10.

Photography by Jarred Donalson.

Thrifty Thursday: Steven Alan Parka

Granted, this is a small stretch on the word thrifty. This jacket, as it were, cost me $70. Keep in mind, however, that it retailed at $400. So, getting a $400 Steven Alan hiking parka at 83% off, we register that as thrifty. More accurately, we call it being a boss. A bargain boss. We gave you folks a quick heads up on these a few months back when eDrop-Off listed a few of these bad boys on eBay. Turns out, I couldn't quite turn down the price myself.

A lot of you are probably thinking, "Wow, that's an awfully bright orange." Or maybe it's closer to, "Man, I really hate that color." Either way, if you're thinking one of those two, I've accomplished my goal. If fitting in was my jam, I'd go buy a jet-black North Face like everybody else in the Western Hemisphere. An orange piece of outerwear, on the other hand, makes you react. Orange evokes emotion. And I like emotions, because I'm an emotional guy... okay, that backfired.

"The 77" dry 14-ounce Kurabo fabric (Standard Style, $200) by Baldwin Denim, size 31; madras button-down (eBay, sale $15; reg. $65) by J. Crew, medium; hiking parka (eBay, sale $70; reg. $400) by Steven Alan, small.

Photos by Jarred Donalson.

midweSTYLE: Tee time

Because I had to make some tough sartorial decisions for the advancement of my manhood, I decided to leave all of my pashminas and scarves back in Kansas City. So like any older brother would do, I bestowed those gifts on my younger sister, because let's be honest: Most of these scarves had some kind floral pattern or brocade print on them that could have easily passed as something you would get from XXI, not the antique stores, swap meets and coastal vendors like where I had originally acquired them.

I thought, I'm moving to a big city. I'm not a dirty, liberal-arts undergrad who spends his days engaged in philosophical debate, chain-smoking Parliaments outside of Kaldis or killing pitchers of Fat Tire at Shakespeares anymore! No more scarves! No more chain-smoking! And certainly no more deep V-necks!

So I did—I left my beloved scarf collection back home for my sisters to adorn themselves.

But then I forgot how much I dig a scarf around my neck. Hetero-normative masculine sartorial presuppositions aside, I like scarves. And you know what, that's okay.

What are you thoughts on the scarves? Rather, scarves with ties?

I snagged this feather suede LANVIN Paris blazer at Seek Vintage on Chicago, just west of downtown. I was surprised and relieved to finally find a "vintage" store that actually had vintage apparel that was well-curated. Unlike other locations that heaping mounds of shit under the notion of the place being a "vintage" retailer, Seek Vintage curates housewares, apparel, accessories and a cornucopia of goods from all over the world. The staff is friendly, and the store is thoughtfully merchandised. I've visited a handful of times already and still have yet to walk away empty handed. I like this place.

Camel-colored suede blazer (Seek Vintage, $15) by LANVIN Paris, size 38; green-striped, button-down oxford (eBay, $18) by Gitman Bros., medium; "The Henley" 11.5-ounce dry selvage (Standard Style, $198) by Baldwin Denim, size 28; brown leather "Wallabees" (Cargo Largo, sale $40; reg. $120) by Clarks, size 11; plaid tie (thrifted, $1); golf club tie bar (thrifted, $3); coral wool scarf courtesy of rag & bone; red replacement shoelaces (J.Crew, $2); ex-roommate's dad's friend's brown leather briefcase (gift!).

Photos by Seth Putnam.

Thrifty Thursday: ex-roomate's dad's friend's briefcase

In college, I lived all over East Campus in Columbia:

• Sophomore Year: 1323 Anthony Street Apt. A, B & C
  Statistics: 11 guys, one house, three floors and a dog—a Boxer named Anfernee.
  Highlights include: Throwing bottle rockets under the bathroom door while someone was taking a dump, the summer Seth Putnam came to live with us from the wretched JBU, and having the bright idea of creating an "Orphanage" where we put two bunk beds and a single bed, totaling five people in the one room with AC over the summer.
• Junior Year at 1403 University Avenue Apt B
  Statistics: 2.5 guys, one floor and a big-ass porch.
  Highlights include: Killing a blood-sucking bat with a wiffle bat, drinking beer each M/W/F before my 19th Century American Women's Poetry taught by an Emily Dickinson scholar, and my roommate assuring me that vodka would heal a rash.
• Senior Year at 516 S. William Apt A & B
  Statistics: Five guys, one house and an attic.
  Highlights include: Dance parties with strobe lights, chain-smoking on the porch into the wee hours of the night while working on my senior thesis, and deciding that I never wanted to leave East Campus to graduate.

When you're moving around from house to house and roommate to roommate, your clothing, accessories and belongings all get mixed up, thrown away or just generally disappear. But if you're lucky, your roommates will just give you things when they are moving out. That's what happened with the briefcase.

My roommate told me, "Hell, kid, I'm not going to be using this."
Well, I used it.
And I did use it for a job interview.
And that job, I was offered.
And that job offer, I accepted.

Thanks, EK.

"The Stockton" navy blazer (Standard Style, $199) by Shades of Grey by Micah Cohen, small; white oxford (retail, $69) by American Apparel, small; Wallabees (Cargo Largo, $40) by Clarks, size 11; destroyed khakis (Halls winter sale, $68) by Gant by Michael Bastian, size 29x34; ex-roommate's dad's friend's briefcase (Elliot, free); throw-away of black sunglasses I stole from Seth (Seth's note: Finally. Getting some respect around here.); grey wool tie (URBN, $9.99) by BDG.

Photography by Seth Putnam.

What I'm Wearing Today: Pop o' orange.

Will of Momentum of Failure started a small revolution in the menswear blogosphere called, The 100 Days of Ties Project.

image source: rugby.com

In short: Throw on a tie, son.

And to keep the ball rollin', Will invites dudes alike to submit photos of their presentation for the day.

Check it:

We're redoing the bathroom upstairs, so, "No, that's not shit on the wall."

I'm loving this coral/orange/poppy color this spring.

Also, an instant upgrade for the Clark Wallabees to welcome in this spring weather with the new laces from J.CREW.

Three-year-old Wallabees (Cargo Largo, $40) by Clark; "The Henley" 14-ounce dry selvedge (Standard Style, $198) by Baldwin Denim, size 28; Leather bomber jacket (thrifted, $6) , size 40; Gant shirt (thrifted, $3), medium; woven leather belt (thrifted, $2); grey-linen blend tie (thrifted, $1.50); THE BEST EFFING PEN IN THE WORLD, Pilot G2 Ultra Fine .38 nib.

midweSTYLE: East Campus slumdog

What is "East Campus" you might ask, dear reader?
East Campus is a tragically beautiful (yet awesome) slum place to live during your undergraduate years at Mizzou. It's a big, magical, non-stop party with all your friends. Imagine a place where a thick layer of cigarette butts and shattered beer bottles litters the rundown lawns and crooked sidewalks. A place coated by a thin residue of shame that comes up easily when you scrape at it with a fingernail. A place where the brick-lain streets are bathed in streams of sorority girl tears flowing richly into the Natty Light-filled sewers. East Campus, a prime place for the housing of Who's Who in Mizzou. We mean this when we say it: It's the best place ever.

Options include but are honestly limited to:

• Hodgepodge Fraternity Housing = Questionable Living Conditions & High Rent.
• Freshly Remodeled Housing = Great Living Conditions & High Rent.
• Likely Unlivable Housing = Subpar Living Conditions & Cheap Rent.

These are your options on East Campus, choose wisely.
Choose cheaply.
Seth and I chose cheaply, as did Cam.
And here is your East Campus midweSTYLE in option, "Likely Unlivable Housing":

WHY THIS LOOK WORKS: Nautical and military style? Sure. It's called, the navy.

TRANSITIONAL FROM WINTER TO SPRING? Why not, switch up the denim with some chinos or khaki shorts for a warm spring night? Or swap the sweater out for a tee and rock it with them boat shoes.

STAPLES OR TRENDY?: I would say that all of these items are staples to have in your closet, or rather, on your floor ready to be used again. Classic pullover, military jacket, selvedge denim, desert boots. A beard doesn't hurt the situation either.

You can get these shoes at Famous Footwear. Is anyone listening? Famous Footwear, I say.

Cadet jacket (eBay, $40) by J.CREW, small; Binic II (on sale for $150, reg. $215) by Saint James, medium; "The 77" 14-ounce Karabo by Baldwin Denim, size 31; Beeswax Desert Boot by Clark's, size 11.

Photography by Erica Steinbach,

our dear friend at 504 who is always down for a dance party
and doesn't mind us coming over just for baked goods.