Lost In The Hit Parade.

The challenges of casual Friday tend to be fourfold, but they all seem to begin with one word and that is denim. Do we or do we no? We usually do, but Levi 501 or no? And if no, vintage Helmut Lang or no? If Helmut Lang, boot cut or standard cut? If not Helmut Lang then what kind of minefield have we wandered into then? A.P.C.? Albam? Simon Miller? What?

Then the tee shirt. Obviously you're wearing one, but which one? Graphics are in, logos are now, heritage is scarcely mentioned in polite conversation. What are the options still on the table? White, thank goodness is completely off the table.

Then shoes. Trainers or no? If not trainers then the floodgates officially open. How fussy of shoes can you wear with denim and not look like a Persian pimp? Not very at all is the general rule.

But then the question of layers. Sure it will be in the 80s, but the air conditioner in the office appears to have neither soul nor sense of moderation. Will one rock a Free City hoodie? Perhaps no hoodie at all, but rather a cardigan? Shawl is the catch-all Compadre and I used to use.

And there you have it. The big four of casual Friday. Accessories are optional. Handkerchief (pressed!) is not. Scent is something Comme des Garçons and most likely the OG. Yes.

End game was A.P.C. with vintage Nom de Guerre, the one with Jean Michel  Basquiat on the front because it never gets old explaining to people it isn't Jimi Hendrix. A Wings & Horns, sorry, Wings + Horns fleece cardigan and Jill Sander oxfords tie it all together. Skirting close to to the pimp line, but I can always nab a ride in an Armenian friend's black Lexus and just go with it.

Note: Fridays are a day of diving into the biggest plate of nachos you have ever. No question of ready-made or insta-lunches from home, and no dilemmas of totes. Just grab whatever holds my book and grab a bag of crisps for breakfast. Because I'm worth it.