Cuffs—Go Big or Go Home

Cuffs—Two inch ones. None of this inch and five-eighths business. I mean think about it…that extra eighth gets you over the inch and-a-half bar so you might as well peel it back and let the gnats at it.

And stop this nonsense about how cuff size should correlate with the wearer’s height. That’s as silly as saying that a shorter man shouldn’t wear a double breasted suit or blazer. Or that once you’ve been “color coded” you should never wear a white dress shirt again. Remember that craze in the 1980’s when the movement was afoot for testing everyone for their “season” and then you bought clothes accordingly? Don’t get me wrong, the Master Flusser does a great job of aligning apparel with tone, but every man requires a white dress shirt…I don’t care if it makes you look leukemic when you put it on. So cuff ‘em. Cuff ‘em big. Or not at all.

 Sleeve cuffs are about two inches. So cuff your trousers accordingly.

 Cuffed Jay Kos

Cuffed Cordings

Cuffed Bookster…with Sickert and Maîtres de l’affiche

Cuffed Green Heather

And cuff your flat fronts with NO break. Shut up.

Cuffs with Flusser Fish Socks. The toddler LFG lived off of Goldfish Crackers for at least a year.

Two inchers...Cuffed Linen this morning. Because the Mid-Atlantic can't decide what season it wants to be amidst.

 Cuff ‘em. With aplomb and relish your resultant swagger.

Onward. Of course I’m compensating.

ADG, II