Uniformity and the Ego, Gray Man Theory and the Gentleman, and the Fingerprint of Craft

Monday musings on ego, identity, and the quiet grace of self-expression.

A funny thing happens when you care about clothes as long as I have. At first, it’s pure ego. You want to stand out, be seen. You crave distinction. Then, somewhere along the line (if you stick with it long enough), it becomes less about attention and more about intention. Less about being noticed and more about being understood. You start dressing for yourself, yes, but also as a kind of gesture to the world: this is who I am, without needing to say much.

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For a lot of us, especially men, clothing becomes a way to wrestle with identity. It might start with a sneaker, a graphic tee, or a bold jacket, trying on personas like outfits. But eventually, you might find yourself drawn to a uniform, not out of conformity, but as a way to clarify. Reduce the noise. Say more with less.

There’s this idea that uniforms strip away individuality, but I’ve found the opposite to be true. A uniform, when chosen with care, can amplify the self. Like the jazz musician who knows all the scales but chooses silence at the right moment, it’s not the note itself but the intention behind it that reveals character. Think of the perfectly worn-in shirt, the precise break of a trouser, the way your shoes carry the shape of your gait. These are fingerprints.

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