Somewhere in Los Angeles on Friday, Justin Bieber muted the TV and grasped the hand of his wife, Hailey. “Babe,” he said “did you feel that?” Hailey, confused, shook her head as Justin stood up and went to the window, pressing his palm against it like a hopeful lover in a romantic comedy.
Thankfully, it was not an earthquake he felt. No, this was something more seismic. This was something happening 3,000 miles away in New York City. This was Brooklyn Beckham, who stepped out Friday night in a fit sure to send waves across the country and into the soul of our Commander-in-Sleaze while he enjoyed a night in with his wife. Not only because Beckham has planted his stake in the sleaze of it all, but also because the makeup of his Janitor-Meets-Hockey-Bro fit is something any sleaze-ling in America can get ahold of.
Beckham’s jacket—a fleecy, color blocked bomber from Original Penguin—is a piece you can get behind whether you’re looking to sleaze it up or not. It’ll only cost you a cool $150, and it’s a great way to break into sherpa season while also standing out in a crowd of camel-colored coats. Beckham’s styling with Dickies pants, worn-but-not-too-worn black Chucks, and a snapback certainly sleaze it up just enough. But the pièce de résistance is the visible carabiner without any keys on it. I’d like to believe it was the subtle jingling of the empty key rings that those sent seismic waves across the country
Beyond the jacket, Beckham kept the approachability flowing with his pants and shoe choices. His pants appear to be Dickies’ 874 model—a Kanye-approved silhouette. His shoes are Converse Chuck Taylors—a shoe you probably already have in your closet. If you don’t, there’s no better time to add them than right now. That’s because there really isn’t a bad time to add them.
Cheers to you, young Becks. You’ve combined two of our favorite things here at Esquire—dressing kinda scummy and wearing affordable style. I’m sure, sooner or later, you’ll end up in a tuxedo. But until then, we will bask in your sleazy glory.
Source : Esquire