Ansley Pentz
I think the men I like should dress like me.
I hadn’t articulated this until a few months ago when I told it to a friend who speaks in clothes. She asked me what I liked guys to wear on dates, and I was momentarily flustered because I claim not to care; but I hate Manhattan-style work clothes that make men look sharp and capable: slacks that are belted over striped shirts from somewhere expensive, combed and parted hair, polished shoes. I think it all reeks of new money and capitalism and the sliminess of the fraternities these guys pledged to in college.
