NTB. Heading to South Beach for a long weekend with the old lady. I'm a beer and beard kind of guy and fear that my footwear might not measure up. I've already been told to leave my boots at home. You have any suggestions for kicks that will get me in the club without making me look like a d-bag from Nantucket?
You know that whole “when in Rome…” maxim? Well, I’m guessing no one ever told you the rest of it, but it goes a little something like this: “when in Rome, pretend like you’re from Milan—it’s closer in proximity than America, so you won’t end up looking totally clueless, and it will afford you the opportunity to steez the fuck out.”
I’m from the beer-and-beard ilk myself, and when I’m posting up in a beach town, I like to rock a strong pair of loafers. And if that’s still giving you the douche chills, I also holler at blue suede wingtips. Whatever you do, don’t wear socks.
Socks Are for Suckers © 2012 Nice Try, Bro.
Let’s get some trucks and wheels welded to the bottoms of those bad boys and meet at the rink later! Banana splits and shakes on me afterwards at the drive-in—I hear Streetcar Named Desire is playing.