gq:

Sprezzatura Hunting With The Sartorialist
From GQ contributor (and Grantland staff writer) Alex Pappademas’s profile of Scott Schuman, aka The Sartorialist, the king of street style, from the June 2012 issue:

Today in Florence, some of Schunman’s favorite subjects have come to him. They’ve come from America, from England and Spain and even Japan. Most of them have made multiple appearances on Schuman’s blog; most of them have never met before, but they seem to recognize one another on some tribal level. They all look amazing. Schuman stands in the street in front of the little trattoria where he’s treating them all to lunch, taking pictures as they arrive. They strike rakishly unposed-looking poses, holding their cigarettes as straight as exclamation points. They have rich Corinthian-leather tans. They have lace handkerchiefs in the pockets of their immaculately tailored jackets. They have elegant, unironic mustaches. They have spectacular beards—wizardy, fishermanly beards.
They’re heavy dudes in their respective fields—menswear retail and tailoring, mostly—but none of them are the kind of big-time designers whose names appear on people’s underwear and in rap songs. They’re not models, or movie stars. Many of them are pushing 50 or 60. And yet they’ve all become figures of cultish fascination to young style bloggers worldwide, prized as the walking embodiment of a deeply old-school, untrendy-and-thereby-deeply-trendy approach to getting dressed.
Like Lino Ieluzzi. These days Lino runs Al Bazar, a forty-year-old men’s shop in Milan. Before that, Schuman says, he did a lot of other things. He fixed watches. He was maybe a hairstylist-gigolo for a while, like Warren Beatty in Shampoo. He’s a regular on the blog: Lino with one foot up on a concrete berm, Lino smoking with a Heineken in his hand. Today, Lino’s wearing a suit in a mathematical combination of plaids, so tailored it fits like armor. His necktie has a lucky number 7 on it. If you want to buy a suit from Lino, you have to go to Milan. Even if he’s tailored a suit for you before and has your measurements, Lino won’t FedEx you another one. You have to go there in person, kiss the ring.
And yet Lino’s an international style icon now, thanks to Schuman’s pictures of him. So are Hirofumi Kurino, co-founder of the Japanese retail chain United Arrows, and clothier Luciano Barbera, and Carlos Castillo, who owns a store called Man 1924 in Madrid, and all the rest. “I’ve never felt like such an Oscar in a room full of Felixes,” Schuman says to me. This is a ridiculous statement. Schuman looks immaculate, too. Trim black blazer, a scarf he probably test-knotted a few times in the mirror. He’s American, pugnaciously handsome, five feet four, kinda looks like a bantamweight Lance Armstrong. I watch him say the Oscar/Felix thing to Bruce Pask from T Magazine. He is saying it to everyone from a country where they had The Odd Couple.
Inside, Schuman gives a toast. He tells everyone they’re the core of what he does on The Sartorialist, that they make it possible. In Indiana, where he grew up, the closest thing to fashion was a mall that had both a Gap and a Chess King, and he does the blog, he says, for kids just like him, “imagining what a world like this would be like. Now these guys have a chance to really see that, hopefully on a daily basis, and I really have you guys to thank for that.” So, cheers, he says, and then tells everybody not to pay attention to him, because he’ll be walking around shooting.
And then a guy in a white tuxedo jacket walks in, and even after Schuman introduces him, there are definitely some people who don’t know who the guy in the white tuxedo jacket is or what he does for a living, which is funny, because the guy in the white tuxedo jacket is Kanye West.

[Photographs by Scott Schuman]

gq:

Sprezzatura Hunting With The Sartorialist

From GQ contributor (and Grantland staff writer) Alex Pappademas’s profile of Scott Schuman, aka The Sartorialist, the king of street style, from the June 2012 issue:

Today in Florence, some of Schunman’s favorite subjects have come to him. They’ve come from America, from England and Spain and even Japan. Most of them have made multiple appearances on Schuman’s blog; most of them have never met before, but they seem to recognize one another on some tribal level. They all look amazing. Schuman stands in the street in front of the little trattoria where he’s treating them all to lunch, taking pictures as they arrive. They strike rakishly unposed-looking poses, holding their cigarettes as straight as exclamation points. They have rich Corinthian-leather tans. They have lace handkerchiefs in the pockets of their immaculately tailored jackets. They have elegant, unironic mustaches. They have spectacular beards—wizardy, fishermanly beards.

They’re heavy dudes in their respective fields—menswear retail and tailoring, mostly—but none of them are the kind of big-time designers whose names appear on people’s underwear and in rap songs. They’re not models, or movie stars. Many of them are pushing 50 or 60. And yet they’ve all become figures of cultish fascination to young style bloggers worldwide, prized as the walking embodiment of a deeply old-school, untrendy-and-thereby-deeply-trendy approach to getting dressed.

Like Lino Ieluzzi. These days Lino runs Al Bazar, a forty-year-old men’s shop in Milan. Before that, Schuman says, he did a lot of other things. He fixed watches. He was maybe a hairstylist-gigolo for a while, like Warren Beatty in Shampoo. He’s a regular on the blog: Lino with one foot up on a concrete berm, Lino smoking with a Heineken in his hand. Today, Lino’s wearing a suit in a mathematical combination of plaids, so tailored it fits like armor. His necktie has a lucky number 7 on it. If you want to buy a suit from Lino, you have to go to Milan. Even if he’s tailored a suit for you before and has your measurements, Lino won’t FedEx you another one. You have to go there in person, kiss the ring.

And yet Lino’s an international style icon now, thanks to Schuman’s pictures of him. So are Hirofumi Kurino, co-founder of the Japanese retail chain United Arrows, and clothier Luciano Barbera, and Carlos Castillo, who owns a store called Man 1924 in Madrid, and all the rest. “I’ve never felt like such an Oscar in a room full of Felixes,” Schuman says to me. This is a ridiculous statement. Schuman looks immaculate, too. Trim black blazer, a scarf he probably test-knotted a few times in the mirror. He’s American, pugnaciously handsome, five feet four, kinda looks like a bantamweight Lance Armstrong. I watch him say the Oscar/Felix thing to Bruce Pask from T Magazine. He is saying it to everyone from a country where they had The Odd Couple.

Inside, Schuman gives a toast. He tells everyone they’re the core of what he does on The Sartorialist, that they make it possible. In Indiana, where he grew up, the closest thing to fashion was a mall that had both a Gap and a Chess King, and he does the blog, he says, for kids just like him, “imagining what a world like this would be like. Now these guys have a chance to really see that, hopefully on a daily basis, and I really have you guys to thank for that.” So, cheers, he says, and then tells everybody not to pay attention to him, because he’ll be walking around shooting.

And then a guy in a white tuxedo jacket walks in, and even after Schuman introduces him, there are definitely some people who don’t know who the guy in the white tuxedo jacket is or what he does for a living, which is funny, because the guy in the white tuxedo jacket is Kanye West.

[Photographs by Scott Schuman]

The Best Hours

There are a lot of things I don’t know, but I know that every Tuesday night, from April through August, we ride to the race, race, and then ride home, tired and alive and thankful. There’s rarely profound insights, or revelations. What matters is the riding, the passing of time as we make our way towards home. Someone won the race, maybe someone riding with us maybe a teammate but that’s hardly the point and whatever the point is I’m sure I won’t figure out before I get home but that’s OK because I’ll be back next week and the one after that and we’ll keep riding into the fading light, the light that lasts longer every night until it doesn’t and starts getting shorter and then we’ll have to figure out what happens after.

You’re still not watching Game of Thrones?

You’re still not watching Game of Thrones?

fuckyeahcycling:

Giro d’Italia 2012 | Stage 5
Free pastry goods for all those in lycra.
(via Team Sky | Pro Cycling | Photo Gallery | Giro d’Italia stage five gallery)

Pretty much starts off like all my Sunday rides.

fuckyeahcycling:

Giro d’Italia 2012 | Stage 5

Free pastry goods for all those in lycra.

(via Team Sky | Pro Cycling | Photo Gallery | Giro d’Italia stage five gallery)

Pretty much starts off like all my Sunday rides.

I turned 40. I bought myself some proper footwear.  (Taken with instagram)

I turned 40. I bought myself some proper footwear. (Taken with instagram)

Dad style.

Dad style.

thomasprior:

air, munich, 2011

Surf is a state of mind. #campvibes.

thomasprior:

air, munich, 2011

Surf is a state of mind. #campvibes.

ridepdw:

Eddy would, bro.

This is pretty fantastic, really.

ridepdw:

Eddy would, bro.

This is pretty fantastic, really.

ridepdw:

We’ll have new batch of stainless steel pints soon.

ridepdw:

We’ll have new batch of stainless steel pints soon.

“Literally, he attacked us all the way down the descent – out of every corner. He was carrying a bit more corner speed than what I was able to. And then we got to the bottom and Fabian did one more ball-biting turn when we hit the flat and while he’s driving it like this he was also flickin’ the elbow. I was, like, ‘Uhm… I would come through but I’m basically not capable of coming through when you’re pulling that hard…’ 
“On the descent, he didn’t even look for a turn because he was so busy attacking from the front. He was going into each turn, gapping us coming out and just trying to drop us out of every corner.” 
-Simon Gerrans, on Cancellara’s descent of the Poggio this year. (photo via cyclingnews)

“Literally, he attacked us all the way down the descent – out of every corner. He was carrying a bit more corner speed than what I was able to. And then we got to the bottom and Fabian did one more ball-biting turn when we hit the flat and while he’s driving it like this he was also flickin’ the elbow. I was, like, ‘Uhm… I would come through but I’m basically not capable of coming through when you’re pulling that hard…’

“On the descent, he didn’t even look for a turn because he was so busy attacking from the front. He was going into each turn, gapping us coming out and just trying to drop us out of every corner.”

-Simon Gerrans, on Cancellara’s descent of the Poggio this year. (photo via cyclingnews)

Rule #1: Socks Matter

blackmarksonpaper:

Then there is the Liverano rule - there is only one colour of sock, Navy -Ethandesu

806-fixed:

Drool sequence activate

806-fixed:

Drool sequence activate