modernconnoisseurtt

Jun 13, 2013 / 4 notes

Wise Words

I consider myself a creative agent of change.. A social entrepreneur.. I help others to help themselves and one thing I always stress, especially to young people, is to always follow your passion. It might sound cliché but it’s imperative. Some advice I wrote:: 1. Write down what you are passionate about

If you don’t know what you’re passionate about, create a list of 10-100 personal values, or things you want to be remembered for when you are dead and gone, then narrow it down to a sentence or paragraph.
Get a job, or create a job that allows you to knock off that list of 10-100 things.
Invest your time and energy into even your smallest curiosities or interests. You never know where an opportunity may present itself, but if you spend time doing things you enjoy, you increase the chance of receiving an opportunity related to your passion.
2. Creatively cultivate something of value that creates passive income (income generated even while you are not working) and relieves more stress than it creates.

If you can create something that holds value, you can sell it. Granted, there is some marketing involved and some connection as well, but the key is creating something that people value.
3. Focus on finding a job, career, or vocation that allows you to be satisfied emotionally, and intellectually, not just financially.

If you define your success by the amount of money in your bank account you will never be satisfied. Focus on your mental, spiritual and physical health and participate in the work that contributes to your well-being.
4. Eliminate distractions & never fear failure.

Put your passion and interests first. When you remember your list of values, you cannot waste time with distractions (Jobs, Relationships, Businesses, Social Networks, Reality Shows, etc.) that are not related to those values.
Fear of failure will keep you from making progress. If you’re afraid to fail, you will never succeed at doing anything new.
5. Be patient and use your time wisely but don’t confuse being busy with being productive. :: read and repost, tag a friend, spread the word #413ways

#DressWell
uselessandshiftlessandjobles:

Angelo Galasso Autumn/Winter 2013

Jun 13, 2013 / 185 notes

#DressWell

uselessandshiftlessandjobles:

Angelo Galasso Autumn/Winter 2013

(via mensah007)

$#DressWell All about the details | Ties brokeandbespoke: In Praise of Asymmetry Symmetry is overrated; few things in the natural world are truly symmetrical. We don’t want our clothing to outwardly reflect any artifice, even if inwardly we may call on them to do so. We often speak of the height of ‘style’ being the man or woman who looks ‘natural’ in his or her clothing. This is, perhaps, at least partly why I have always found symmetrical tie knots to look a little overdetermined, a little un-natural. To be sure, the bulk of a full Windsor knot can sometimes swallow a person’s face. But beyond the dimensions of proportionality, there’s something more abstract to me about why they don’t look right. Even a half Windsor, though slightly less bulky, looks awkward in its silky triangularity. I like a tie to move a little throughout the day; to end an evening a tad askew, at an angle that more appropriately matches the asymmetry of the average human face. A Windsor—and its fractional variants—likes to stay put, anchored between the collar points of your shirt like a stony weight, lifeless in its turgid knotting. My preference is for asymmetrical knots. With a thick wool tie it might be the standard four-in-hand. Most often, I tie what some call a Knize knot. For particularly light ties, a double four-in-hand is my knot of choice. I never opt for a knotting that will produce a symmetrical triangle. Life is, in reality, too messy and uneven to bother with any pretense towards symmetry.$ $#DressWell All about the details | Ties brokeandbespoke: In Praise of Asymmetry Symmetry is overrated; few things in the natural world are truly symmetrical. We don’t want our clothing to outwardly reflect any artifice, even if inwardly we may call on them to do so. We often speak of the height of ‘style’ being the man or woman who looks ‘natural’ in his or her clothing. This is, perhaps, at least partly why I have always found symmetrical tie knots to look a little overdetermined, a little un-natural. To be sure, the bulk of a full Windsor knot can sometimes swallow a person’s face. But beyond the dimensions of proportionality, there’s something more abstract to me about why they don’t look right. Even a half Windsor, though slightly less bulky, looks awkward in its silky triangularity. I like a tie to move a little throughout the day; to end an evening a tad askew, at an angle that more appropriately matches the asymmetry of the average human face. A Windsor—and its fractional variants—likes to stay put, anchored between the collar points of your shirt like a stony weight, lifeless in its turgid knotting. My preference is for asymmetrical knots. With a thick wool tie it might be the standard four-in-hand. Most often, I tie what some call a Knize knot. For particularly light ties, a double four-in-hand is my knot of choice. I never opt for a knotting that will produce a symmetrical triangle. Life is, in reality, too messy and uneven to bother with any pretense towards symmetry.$ $#DressWell All about the details | Ties brokeandbespoke: In Praise of Asymmetry Symmetry is overrated; few things in the natural world are truly symmetrical. We don’t want our clothing to outwardly reflect any artifice, even if inwardly we may call on them to do so. We often speak of the height of ‘style’ being the man or woman who looks ‘natural’ in his or her clothing. This is, perhaps, at least partly why I have always found symmetrical tie knots to look a little overdetermined, a little un-natural. To be sure, the bulk of a full Windsor knot can sometimes swallow a person’s face. But beyond the dimensions of proportionality, there’s something more abstract to me about why they don’t look right. Even a half Windsor, though slightly less bulky, looks awkward in its silky triangularity. I like a tie to move a little throughout the day; to end an evening a tad askew, at an angle that more appropriately matches the asymmetry of the average human face. A Windsor—and its fractional variants—likes to stay put, anchored between the collar points of your shirt like a stony weight, lifeless in its turgid knotting. My preference is for asymmetrical knots. With a thick wool tie it might be the standard four-in-hand. Most often, I tie what some call a Knize knot. For particularly light ties, a double four-in-hand is my knot of choice. I never opt for a knotting that will produce a symmetrical triangle. Life is, in reality, too messy and uneven to bother with any pretense towards symmetry.$ $#DressWell All about the details | Ties brokeandbespoke: In Praise of Asymmetry Symmetry is overrated; few things in the natural world are truly symmetrical. We don’t want our clothing to outwardly reflect any artifice, even if inwardly we may call on them to do so. We often speak of the height of ‘style’ being the man or woman who looks ‘natural’ in his or her clothing. This is, perhaps, at least partly why I have always found symmetrical tie knots to look a little overdetermined, a little un-natural. To be sure, the bulk of a full Windsor knot can sometimes swallow a person’s face. But beyond the dimensions of proportionality, there’s something more abstract to me about why they don’t look right. Even a half Windsor, though slightly less bulky, looks awkward in its silky triangularity. I like a tie to move a little throughout the day; to end an evening a tad askew, at an angle that more appropriately matches the asymmetry of the average human face. A Windsor—and its fractional variants—likes to stay put, anchored between the collar points of your shirt like a stony weight, lifeless in its turgid knotting. My preference is for asymmetrical knots. With a thick wool tie it might be the standard four-in-hand. Most often, I tie what some call a Knize knot. For particularly light ties, a double four-in-hand is my knot of choice. I never opt for a knotting that will produce a symmetrical triangle. Life is, in reality, too messy and uneven to bother with any pretense towards symmetry.$ $#DressWell All about the details | Ties brokeandbespoke: In Praise of Asymmetry Symmetry is overrated; few things in the natural world are truly symmetrical. We don’t want our clothing to outwardly reflect any artifice, even if inwardly we may call on them to do so. We often speak of the height of ‘style’ being the man or woman who looks ‘natural’ in his or her clothing. This is, perhaps, at least partly why I have always found symmetrical tie knots to look a little overdetermined, a little un-natural. To be sure, the bulk of a full Windsor knot can sometimes swallow a person’s face. But beyond the dimensions of proportionality, there’s something more abstract to me about why they don’t look right. Even a half Windsor, though slightly less bulky, looks awkward in its silky triangularity. I like a tie to move a little throughout the day; to end an evening a tad askew, at an angle that more appropriately matches the asymmetry of the average human face. A Windsor—and its fractional variants—likes to stay put, anchored between the collar points of your shirt like a stony weight, lifeless in its turgid knotting. My preference is for asymmetrical knots. With a thick wool tie it might be the standard four-in-hand. Most often, I tie what some call a Knize knot. For particularly light ties, a double four-in-hand is my knot of choice. I never opt for a knotting that will produce a symmetrical triangle. Life is, in reality, too messy and uneven to bother with any pretense towards symmetry.$ $#DressWell All about the details | Ties brokeandbespoke: In Praise of Asymmetry Symmetry is overrated; few things in the natural world are truly symmetrical. We don’t want our clothing to outwardly reflect any artifice, even if inwardly we may call on them to do so. We often speak of the height of ‘style’ being the man or woman who looks ‘natural’ in his or her clothing. This is, perhaps, at least partly why I have always found symmetrical tie knots to look a little overdetermined, a little un-natural. To be sure, the bulk of a full Windsor knot can sometimes swallow a person’s face. But beyond the dimensions of proportionality, there’s something more abstract to me about why they don’t look right. Even a half Windsor, though slightly less bulky, looks awkward in its silky triangularity. I like a tie to move a little throughout the day; to end an evening a tad askew, at an angle that more appropriately matches the asymmetry of the average human face. A Windsor—and its fractional variants—likes to stay put, anchored between the collar points of your shirt like a stony weight, lifeless in its turgid knotting. My preference is for asymmetrical knots. With a thick wool tie it might be the standard four-in-hand. Most often, I tie what some call a Knize knot. For particularly light ties, a double four-in-hand is my knot of choice. I never opt for a knotting that will produce a symmetrical triangle. Life is, in reality, too messy and uneven to bother with any pretense towards symmetry.$ $#DressWell All about the details | Ties brokeandbespoke: In Praise of Asymmetry Symmetry is overrated; few things in the natural world are truly symmetrical. We don’t want our clothing to outwardly reflect any artifice, even if inwardly we may call on them to do so. We often speak of the height of ‘style’ being the man or woman who looks ‘natural’ in his or her clothing. This is, perhaps, at least partly why I have always found symmetrical tie knots to look a little overdetermined, a little un-natural. To be sure, the bulk of a full Windsor knot can sometimes swallow a person’s face. But beyond the dimensions of proportionality, there’s something more abstract to me about why they don’t look right. Even a half Windsor, though slightly less bulky, looks awkward in its silky triangularity. I like a tie to move a little throughout the day; to end an evening a tad askew, at an angle that more appropriately matches the asymmetry of the average human face. A Windsor—and its fractional variants—likes to stay put, anchored between the collar points of your shirt like a stony weight, lifeless in its turgid knotting. My preference is for asymmetrical knots. With a thick wool tie it might be the standard four-in-hand. Most often, I tie what some call a Knize knot. For particularly light ties, a double four-in-hand is my knot of choice. I never opt for a knotting that will produce a symmetrical triangle. Life is, in reality, too messy and uneven to bother with any pretense towards symmetry.$ $#DressWell All about the details | Ties brokeandbespoke: In Praise of Asymmetry Symmetry is overrated; few things in the natural world are truly symmetrical. We don’t want our clothing to outwardly reflect any artifice, even if inwardly we may call on them to do so. We often speak of the height of ‘style’ being the man or woman who looks ‘natural’ in his or her clothing. This is, perhaps, at least partly why I have always found symmetrical tie knots to look a little overdetermined, a little un-natural. To be sure, the bulk of a full Windsor knot can sometimes swallow a person’s face. But beyond the dimensions of proportionality, there’s something more abstract to me about why they don’t look right. Even a half Windsor, though slightly less bulky, looks awkward in its silky triangularity. I like a tie to move a little throughout the day; to end an evening a tad askew, at an angle that more appropriately matches the asymmetry of the average human face. A Windsor—and its fractional variants—likes to stay put, anchored between the collar points of your shirt like a stony weight, lifeless in its turgid knotting. My preference is for asymmetrical knots. With a thick wool tie it might be the standard four-in-hand. Most often, I tie what some call a Knize knot. For particularly light ties, a double four-in-hand is my knot of choice. I never opt for a knotting that will produce a symmetrical triangle. Life is, in reality, too messy and uneven to bother with any pretense towards symmetry.$ $#DressWell All about the details | Ties brokeandbespoke: In Praise of Asymmetry Symmetry is overrated; few things in the natural world are truly symmetrical. We don’t want our clothing to outwardly reflect any artifice, even if inwardly we may call on them to do so. We often speak of the height of ‘style’ being the man or woman who looks ‘natural’ in his or her clothing. This is, perhaps, at least partly why I have always found symmetrical tie knots to look a little overdetermined, a little un-natural. To be sure, the bulk of a full Windsor knot can sometimes swallow a person’s face. But beyond the dimensions of proportionality, there’s something more abstract to me about why they don’t look right. Even a half Windsor, though slightly less bulky, looks awkward in its silky triangularity. I like a tie to move a little throughout the day; to end an evening a tad askew, at an angle that more appropriately matches the asymmetry of the average human face. A Windsor—and its fractional variants—likes to stay put, anchored between the collar points of your shirt like a stony weight, lifeless in its turgid knotting. My preference is for asymmetrical knots. With a thick wool tie it might be the standard four-in-hand. Most often, I tie what some call a Knize knot. For particularly light ties, a double four-in-hand is my knot of choice. I never opt for a knotting that will produce a symmetrical triangle. Life is, in reality, too messy and uneven to bother with any pretense towards symmetry.$ $#DressWell All about the details | Ties brokeandbespoke: In Praise of Asymmetry Symmetry is overrated; few things in the natural world are truly symmetrical. We don’t want our clothing to outwardly reflect any artifice, even if inwardly we may call on them to do so. We often speak of the height of ‘style’ being the man or woman who looks ‘natural’ in his or her clothing. This is, perhaps, at least partly why I have always found symmetrical tie knots to look a little overdetermined, a little un-natural. To be sure, the bulk of a full Windsor knot can sometimes swallow a person’s face. But beyond the dimensions of proportionality, there’s something more abstract to me about why they don’t look right. Even a half Windsor, though slightly less bulky, looks awkward in its silky triangularity. I like a tie to move a little throughout the day; to end an evening a tad askew, at an angle that more appropriately matches the asymmetry of the average human face. A Windsor—and its fractional variants—likes to stay put, anchored between the collar points of your shirt like a stony weight, lifeless in its turgid knotting. My preference is for asymmetrical knots. With a thick wool tie it might be the standard four-in-hand. Most often, I tie what some call a Knize knot. For particularly light ties, a double four-in-hand is my knot of choice. I never opt for a knotting that will produce a symmetrical triangle. Life is, in reality, too messy and uneven to bother with any pretense towards symmetry.$

Jun 13, 2013 / 515 notes

#DressWell All about the details | Ties

brokeandbespoke:

In Praise of Asymmetry

Symmetry is overrated; few things in the natural world are truly symmetrical. We don’t want our clothing to outwardly reflect any artifice, even if inwardly we may call on them to do so. We often speak of the height of ‘style’ being the man or woman who looks ‘natural’ in his or her clothing.

This is, perhaps, at least partly why I have always found symmetrical tie knots to look a little overdetermined, a little un-natural. To be sure, the bulk of a full Windsor knot can sometimes swallow a person’s face. But beyond the dimensions of proportionality, there’s something more abstract to me about why they don’t look right. Even a half Windsor, though slightly less bulky, looks awkward in its silky triangularity.

I like a tie to move a little throughout the day; to end an evening a tad askew, at an angle that more appropriately matches the asymmetry of the average human face. A Windsor—and its fractional variants—likes to stay put, anchored between the collar points of your shirt like a stony weight, lifeless in its turgid knotting.

My preference is for asymmetrical knots. With a thick wool tie it might be the standard four-in-hand. Most often, I tie what some call a Knize knot. For particularly light ties, a double four-in-hand is my knot of choice. I never opt for a knotting that will produce a symmetrical triangle. Life is, in reality, too messy and uneven to bother with any pretense towards symmetry.

(via todaystie)

#ShoeConnoisseur
bespoke-england:

Sinatra in Chestnut Hatch Grain. TG73 Classic.

Jun 13, 2013 / 43 notes

#ShoeConnoisseur

bespoke-england:

Sinatra in Chestnut Hatch Grain. TG73 Classic.

(via parkenmadison)

Jun 12, 2013 / 48 notes

Wise Words #413WaysToBeSuccessful

rubin2:

Something I learned a while ago :: Successful people reach a moment where they make a conscious decision to change their lives. They take a calculated risk, then they take a chance. Take the initiative to change your own life. Don’t get comfortable living a lifestyle just because it is secure or you think it’s the safe route. Don’t settle for less than what you’re capable of. There is something burning inside of you, a desire to do better. A desire to seek adventure and do something new. Don’t ignore your passion. Every time you ignore it, you will die a little bit on the inside. Success is subjective. Define it, then capture it. For me, it’s not a dollar amount, but more so an impact, and that is difficult to measure. Success, like happiness, is not a destination but a state of mind and a state of being. Be successful. Be happy. It is a condition and you determine how to feel it. It comes and goes, and that’s natural. But if you think of it as a mind state, you will find it much more often. :: #413ways kevinclaiborne.com