Welcome to The New Classic, where the past and the present merge, to form a new future.
Once that no one can see coming...
Join Angelo, Vanessa and the rest of the gang three and a half long years after that fateful night.
Lo kept count. V didn't...
Moodlist The Mood and The Sky - Sade Slow Down - VanJess Lying To You - Amaria featuring Amber Navran Slow Hot Wind - Sergio Mendes & Brasil '66 PART II - JAY Z featuring Beyoncé The One - Alina Baraz featuring Jada
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In a world where people won't pay you more than one glimpse, you have to make that shit count.
That was a lesson I learned early in the game.
Because for as long as I'd been a part of the life, fashion had been a cornerstone of my strategy for moving through the this new found world.
My credibility, my ability to gain and keep trust, my public relations regime; all of these things were bolstered by pieces of fabric that were sewn together in one way or another.
In spaces where I was expected to be seen, not heard, I relied on my ensembles to communicate the things I wasn't able to.
Long before I had a dog in the fight, I had eyes on me. What curating a strong dress sense allowed me to do was change perceptions from me being a mere supporting character, to being someone to watch.
And somewhere in the process, my selection process for clothing morphed from utilitarian to expressive.
Unsurprisingly to at least some, the man of my affections was an early catalyst of the longstanding affair with fashion I would go on to fall into. Because his first impression was my introduction to the power of clothing.
The thing that stuck in my mind the most after my first encounter with Angelo was his suit.
It felt silly at the time for me to have devoted as much attention as I had on his outfit. But I would come to learn that the awe I felt was why an otherwise fiscally responsible man was content to spend thousands of dollars on what he put on his back.
Watching him move in that vincũna wool masterpiece was a sight for sore eyes.
No bunching around the shoulders, no awkward puckering in the midsection or the pants, the cuff of his shirt peeking out from under that of his jacket, leaving a clearly very pricey watch on show.
The suit moved like it was a second skin.
Although he didn't reveal anything about himself during that initial meeting, I was able to get quite a good read on him, just by how he was dressed.
The depth of the consistent dark pigment that each fibre held told me that he took himself and what he did quite seriously. And that he paid very close attention to detail.
Then, with a quick flick of the wrist his jacket was open, allowing him to perch against his desk comfortably. A discreet glance at the lining of the garment revealed a label with declared the piece to be a bespoke offering "forMr Leone".
