Leandra Medine on Finding Valuable Style Advice from Neighborhood Elders
Sophia Edwards There is an old man who I often see on a park bench near 97th Street on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. Most days he wears a pair of white Hush Puppies. His pants are a perfect shade of well-worn khaki, and his navy blue coat flares out slightly, creating a subtle unintentional A-line.
Another gentleman I’ve encountered on multiple occasions crossing 94th Street wears the same hat, a faded blue-and-green plaid fedora, as he totes his groceries in hemp bags. He says he’s been wearing it for 35 years. Yet another octogenarian I pass on 89th Street, who wears jeans with white socks and backless clogs, tells me he doesn’t think when he puts on clothes. “I just do it to get out the door.”
There is always a refreshing practicality about the gentlemen’s clothes as well as a romantic tension between their off-duty lifestyle and the echo of a busier, former life.
They all belong to a specific genus of elderly gentleman who roam my neighborhood. I watch them cross the street at an elegantly glacial pace, which gives me plenty of time to marvel at their outfits. These outfits tend to follow a formula: medium-wash jeans (slouchy but not baggy) that I suspect were darker but have been tumble-washed hundreds of times; a striped cotton polo and fisherman knit sweater; a beret when it’s cooler, baseball cap when it’s not; gray walking sneakers or clogs. Sometimes the beret is a fedora, or the walking sneakers are Hush Puppies. But there is always a refreshing practicality about the gentlemen’s clothes as well as a romantic tension between their off-duty lifestyle and the echo of a busier, former life.
Lately I’ve been taking inspiration from them. At first I thought it was because I liked their style. But there is something appealing about developing a system for getting dressed that is so straightforward; when what you wear becomes a second-nature part of who you are, rooted in convenience. It’s an approach to personal style that is honest and humble and self-regarding in a spectacular way. A reminder of a time before selfies and the judgmental gaze of a faceless audience on social media. I think every place has its version of the unassumingly inspiring elderly man. Perhaps you have already encountered yours, gleaned inspiration, and applied it once over. If you have not, I might suggest you look a little closer.
