I love airports. This is probably because I also love rules. I’m a stickler for following directions. There are so many people now who act as though rules are some kind of heinous burden rather than the glue that keeps society from descending into chaos. Tell me where to go, how to stand, and which direction to cough.
This was a disorder that afflicted me at an early age, when I took it upon myself to sit as still as possible during a haircut to ensure I’d receive a lollipop at the end. I would often daydream about my barber informing me that I was the stillest boy in the entire city and that a statue would be erected of me sitting and blankly staring off into the distance. In my dream, somehow, the statue would not be as motionless as the real thing.
My travel companions are usually flabbergasted by my primal need to do what I’m told. If the gate clerk tells us all to not stand by the people mover while we wait to board, I will scurry away like an abused dog and internally stress about all the stragglers who either didn’t hear the announcement or refused to comply. Increasingly, there’s more and more of the latter.
The baser our culture becomes, the more people openly flaunt the rules. And with social media, we have hours of video evidence of people fighting flight attendants, getting belligerently drunk, and screaming racial slurs at strangers. The whinging, whining, and crying about every minor regulation seemed to explode when COVID first touched down in the United States. With the advent of lockdowns and curfews and masking mandates, the ranks of the indignant and the put-upon swelled.
Millions of Americans firmly believe they should not have to do something if they simply don’t want to. It is an inconvenience for me, therefore the rule itself has no merit and must have been the act of a capriciously sadistic bureaucrat who likes to inflict pain on others. Speed limits don’t exist to keep people from killing each other. No, they’re enforced just to prevent you from getting to pilates on time.
Airports are the inflection point of this culture of imposition, because there are so many rules for flying and everyone is uncomfortable at all times. Like it is in the real world, inside an airport, peace and calm are only available to those with the most disposable income. Private lounges, first class sleeper seats, free cocktails, and whatever other high-class add-ons airlines employ to further drain you of your remaining assets. The average traveler is poked, prodded, patted down, squished and otherwise humiliated at every step of the process. This only exacerbates the ill feelings and bad vibes that permeate the airport. Airports are places that demand civility, and yet, it they are one of the most uncivilized institutions in the world.
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I will not add to the litany of snobs (yes, I’m a snob, but I’m also a snob who hates repeating himself) who lament the passing of the stylish, luxurious Jet Age. We get it. People dress like shit at the airport now! And yet…it’s a cliche because it’s true. Airplanes are a cattle enclosure and it feels like the flight attendants are going to put us in the Temple Grandin machine before they shoot a metal bolt into our brain.
People wear sweatpants, t-shirts, and most distressingly, flip-flops when they fly. Every airline should have a hard-and-fast “no toe rule,” where it is illegal to expose your toes at any time. The punishment should be an hour in the Temple Grandin machine.
So, what should you wear to the airport? I can’t demand you do anything. I’m not an airport employee, so I can’t make the rules. But I can suggest you wear a suit. In fact, I will counsel you to wear a suit as much as possible, but in the case of air travel, having a suit jacket means more pockets. Glasses, a passport, your phone, a handful of pistachios. Whatever. You still want to be comfortable, so invest in a suit fabric with some give and some breathability. Stay away from those gimmicky “travel suits” that are made of rubber bands and old chewing gum, if you can. If you have to, try this Paul Smith worsted wool suit.
Instead, go with something linen. I adore the tailoring from Stoffa. It’s not cheap, as I have said here before, but why not just wear the same thing every time you fly? The worst thing you can do in a travel scenario is have to think too much about fits. This is why I pack light, which we will discuss in a bit.
Of course, if you live in a cold weather climate or have to travel to one, I don’t blame you for not taking this advice. Wearing a linen suit with a heavy winter coat is deranged behavior.
I have a black Issey Miyake suit with elastic band trousers I’ve likely discussed in this space previously. It’s perfect. It’s lightweight, but doesn’t look outrageous under a coat if necessary. It’s black, so I can’t stain it with some hot mustard or a glass of red wine at the Delta Sky Club. (if you can afford it, get your ass into an airport lounge, please. It will change your life.)
Finally, wear comfortable shoes. Not a pair of sneakers. Actual shoes. Doc Martens or Solovairs. Something with a rubber sole. My Solovairs are the best travel shoe I can think of. Substantial construction, but so pleasant to walk in. I also love the clogs from Studio Nicholson, for days when I want to easily remove my shoes in the TSA line. Just please, wear socks for the sake of your fellow travelers.
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When I went to Mexico City last month, I packed incredibly light. My Issey suit, black Uniqlo trousers, a white button-up, a white t-shirt, and the black Sunset Oversized Blazer from California Arts, which I’m wearing in the picture above. Mexico City is an incredible place full of art, culture, food, and unfortunately, deep-rooted income inequality. It’s inspiring to traipse around trendy neighborhoods like Roma Norte or La Condesa, but these places cater to people like me. Mexico City is like any other major metropolis in the world. I feel odd raving about a place I barely know. That said, here are a few spots I recommend if you make it out there:
Hotel: Casa Bouques Pension - It’s only three rooms above a book store, but that coziness is part of the charm. It’s like an Airbnb without the fear that they might make you do laundry on your vacation. The word “chic” is deeply annoying, but it applies here.
Destinations: The Museum of Anthropology will give you a crash course in the history of the indigenous populations of Mexico. Casa Luis Barragan is the former home of the titular very deceased Mexican architect. The home is an interior design nerd’s dream and has been nicely preserved.
Food and Drink: Go to Em restaurant for an adventurous tasting menu experience and some great martinis.
I get an absolutely perverse thrill from a walk-up bar. There’s a sense of profound possibility when having cocktails right off the street. We stumbled on a bar/restaurant called Meroma thanks to its proximity to the sidewalk and stunning design. I mean, look at this:
It actually gets better when you go inside:
Stuff to Buy: I hate being a “gift guide” pushing people to consume, so when I actually recommend something, I mean it. I bought a lamp from a local brand called Burro that forced me to reevaluate my entire home decor philosophy. It’s made from a lightweight sheets of Polypropylene and looks like Carmen Sandiego’s hat:
You can buy one online and have it shipped to the States, but the tube it comes in fits easily in a carry-on suitcase.
Next week, I answer a reader question about the neckerchief trend that’s sweeping LA and NY. And don’t forget to ask me MORE questions in our chat.
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