I Thought I Was a Purist. I Was Just Making Things Make Sense. (Director’s Cut)

I used to think mixing Nike and adidas was a sin. Turns out, I just hate bad rhythm.

I thought I was a purist. The kind who wouldn’t mix brands, who needed logos to align, who avoided doubling down unless the message was tight.

But really — I just needed things to make sense.
To have rhythm. To hold weight. To walk in sync.

Turns out, I don’t match outfits. I conduct them.

It Was Never About Strict Rules

For years, I said all I wore was chinos and t-shirts.
But even that had structure.

My tees were minimal.
My pants stayed quiet.
My socks didn’t compete.
My shoes always set the tone.

It wasn’t fashion.
It was a system. I just didn’t know I had built it.

Shoes Set the Mood

Shoes aren’t an accessory — they’re the anchor.
Jordan 1s bring a certain weight.
Nike SB tells a story.
Dr. Martens means I’m not soft today.

Once the shoes are on, everything else follows.
Not ‘what goes with this?’ — but ‘what supports the tone I already set?’

If the shoes start in jazz and your pants come in with punk, the whole song falls apart.

The Quiet Hierarchy

Here’s how it flows:

• Shoes lead the story
• Tops add the voice — but don’t shout
• Pants ground everything — they’re neutral players
• Socks act as bridges — plain or branded only if they come from sock-first brands
• Hats finish the thought, not compete with it

Not about matching brands.
About not breaking the rhythm.

I Don’t Mix Brands — Because I Arrange Them

If I’m wearing Nike, I won’t throw on a Vans cap.
Not because I’m precious.
But because it reads like someone skipped rehearsal.

Mix if you must — but at least know the song.

I’ll wear a full-brand fit — adidas, DC, Vans — if the message is tight and every player shows up in key.
It’s not loyalty. It’s fluency.

I Match Temperament. I Support Form.

It’s not just logos. It’s temperament.
Structure. Weight. Attitude. Presence.

Sports socks? With sneakers and chinos? Works. Flat-knits? Even better.
They hit that middle note: grounded, unbothered.

But pair sports socks with Docs and suit pants?
Now you’ve got a clown horn at a string quartet.

Disruption like that ruins the harmony.
In that context, you wear a dress sock — or shut it down altogether.

Same goes for pairing Docs or Wallabees with a t-shirt.
You can. I won’t.

When a shoe has polish or heritage, I give it space to breathe:

• Collared shirt
• Clean lines
• No hat — unless the structure asks for one

It’s not dressing up.
It’s dressing in sync with what the shoe already knows.

I don’t water things down to make them easy.
I let each piece hold its posture.

I Believe in Style Logic

I’ve seen crimes.
I’ve seen Yeezys with bootcut jeans.
I’ve seen triple-stacked logos fight to the death on one human torso.
I’ve seen someone wear flip-flops with bootcut suit trousers and a fitted cap. That was the day I realized socks weren’t the problem. Society was.

Style is structure.
Without it, you’re just layering noise.

It’s Not Minimalism. It’s Discipline.

I’m not trying to impress anyone.
I’m not trying to spark joy.
I’m trying to walk out the door with alignment. Clarity. Rhythm.

I don’t need every outfit to surprise me.
I need it to feel composed.
Like it knows what it’s doing.

Turns Out, I’m Not a Purist

I just love structure. Uniform. Quiet logic.
The kind that doesn’t raise its voice but still gets heard.

I thought I was avoiding clashing brands.
Really, I was protecting the rhythm of my fit.
And if something plays the wrong note —
I’ll feel it before anyone even sees it.

Because the truth is:
I’m not matching clothes.
I’m orchestrating presence.

Purists follow rules.
I write them.
Your move.

[Bonus Track] When Breaking the Rhythm *Works*

Here’s the thing: not every disruption is a mistake.
Sometimes you break the rhythm — on purpose.

Like when I wear my violanda purple Carhartt WIP Madison cap over an all-black fit.
On paper, it breaks the harmony.
But in execution? It lands.

Because the rest of the outfit is tight. Anchored. Disciplined.
The cap doesn’t clash — it samples the track.
It pops because the base is quiet.

That only works when the foundation holds.
If the rest of the fit were already chaotic? That hat would just add to the noise.
But against a black-on-black rhythm, it becomes a controlled spike.

Intentional contrast isn’t chaos — it’s punctuation.
It tells the world:
“I built the rules. I can bend them too.”