How to Wear Sunglasses
Okay, Baltimore. Friday night was New Year’s Eve. Saturday night was, well, Saturday night, yes? Time marches on and all of that. If you’re anything like us, your bar or beer fridge is down a few bottles, your liver is running only by sheer inertia, and your head is significantly poundier.
Whether you’re making a walk of shame, creeping out to brunch, or heading out to watch football, if you’ve got the grave misfortune of having to leave the house on a Sunday, especially a Sunday like today, you’re going to need sunglasses.
Aside from their hangover-shielding properties, sunglasses are especially crucial to Baltimore fashion because as anyone who’s lived here more than a week knows, you never look a motherfucker in the eye on the street. Nothing personal, it’s just not something we do.
Funny thing about sunglasses though; get it right, and you’ll draw a lot of looks. Get it wrong, and you’ll draw a lot of stares.
Sure, they’re big. But they’re not too big. Sure they’re dark. But they’re not too dark. As long as the rest of your outfit is understated, these will always work.
When most people think of Sinatra, they think of suits and hats. There’s a lot of sun and swimming pools in Las Vegas though, and you don’t wear 3 pieces of wool poolside in July.
Find a bad photo of Paul Newman. Go ahead and try… we’ll wait.
It’s almost as if Bono made a conscious effort to become a total douchebag, then made a deliberate search to find the perfect douchebag accessory and make it his personal trademark. Well done, Bono. Truly well done. Those shades look very pretty with your precious little earrings and your black on black on black silk ensemble.
This look is bad enough to make Dolce & Gabbana turn straight. On the other hand, this is the perfect style to rock when you’re rolling up York Road in an Expedition with McDonald’s wrappers all over the floor, Young Jeezy blasting out the window, and an underage entourage drinking Coors Light in the backseat.
For the record, the Chop is a Luke Scott hater from way back. Even before the recent birther nonsense we’ve been hating on his slumpiness at the plate and his dumpiness in the outfield, his penchant for praying in public and most of all, his sunglasses.