From Pitti Uomo

I once tweeted, “becoming a man repeller’s man friend is a huge responsibility. We’re talking an enormous viagra prescription here.” Now I ask you this, if you aren’t following me on twitter, don’t you feel bad about all the fun you’re voluntarily missing out on? Just kidding, that’s not my question, but it is still something to ponder, eh?
My real question goes as follows: While flipping through Tommy Ton’s photos for I got to thinking more extensively about a question I brushed upon answering in the December issue of Harper’s Bazaar: Can you be in fashion and still get a man?
I have the answer too. And it is yes. Yes you can. Maybe. Often, he will come in flamboyant shades of purple, may or may not sometimes swing for the same team as Rupaul and most prominently surfaces during the weeks of Pitti Uomo.
See what I mean, those roses are for me. Which brings me to my next point: 
While I am not necessarily into boning men with better groomed eyebrows than my own, if my life were an episode of The Bachelorette on ABC, I speculate taping time would coincide with the events of Pitti Uomo so that we could collect the highest concentration of sexually ambiguous men temporarily residing in one region. After all, these are most likely the only male specimens who would volunteer to partake in a show dedicated to finding the drop to my crotch, the leopard print of my fur, the bow to my ‘ner…one who would allow a man repeller’s freaky deaky creative license as much leeway it pleases. And without further adieu, here are the contestants I’ve drawn up.
Exhibit A:
Not sure what his face looks like but ultimately it doesn’t matter. He is Mr. Peanuting in Prada creepers…
 And man and wife should have at least one pair of friendship shoes per season.
Exhibit B:
Plaid x plaid x denim with a few red accents…
(Not by Tommy Ton, my handheld device facilitated this photographic genius.)
Shirt: Fremont, vest: Polo, scarf: F21 - it comes with a special story
…To compliment my try at pairing plaid with plaid and another bright red plaid.
Exhibit C:
Pendleton sneakers are cool as shit. Again, face description unneccesary.
Exhibit D:
Birth control glasses, check. Bow tie, check. Think of the arguments we’ll have over who gets to wear the Moscots each day!
Exhibit E:
Print mixing is my specialty, too.
Exhibit F:
Snakeskin pants. How upSCALE of you, future man friend. 
And finally,
Exhibit G reminds me that every now and then his cargo pockets will induce a riveting game of: Who Wears The Houlihans Better?
 Ultimately, I speculate a man repeller and her proper counterpart would look something like this:
So, if you’re going to try and find yourself a man friend, your best human bets are at Pitti Uomo.
On an unrelated but equally–if not more–important note from the same place:

Silly me, I felt pretty bad about leaving Anna dello Russo out of my bow tie post, so here she is, just repelling as usual with her female friends.

What’s so great about Prada’s neon fur stoles is that they grant ADR enormous privilege to the tenth power with the opportunity to hang the Pink Panther himself off her wrist. That is special. So are Palazzo pants. 
And while we’re talking neon shine…
There’s something about the punchy colors on her fuck-you-finger and wrist that really tug at my heart strings. It could be the aftermath of my perpetual Jil Sander swoon or…could neon jewelry be the latest and greatest in neon bright blinding our male-counterparts?
I seem to agree. #Getonmyneck.