There is man, and there is mannequin.

A mannequin is stiff and still. Motionless. Without face and without personality. Without story and without will. He stands quietly in the store window. His clothes are pressed. The tags are attached. All through the night, in the dark of the empty showroom, he remains alone.

He shouldn’t worry about wrinkles; they are natural. He should’t worry about stains; they will come out. Bumps and bruises are a sign of life lived. Rips and tears mean action.

All day, when the world comes alive again, he stands frozen. People walk by, stop and stare, and then go on their way. His clothes are perfect and without wrinkles. No stains and no blemishes. His appearance is pristine and his posture immaculate.

The people get close; they aren’t afraid. They could smack his face and he won’t retaliate. He is powerless. He’s a mannequin.

Purple noon

Man is different. He acts in the world. He exerts his will. He moves from place to place. He lives and breathes. He works and plays. He travels across the sea and writes his story for himself. He builds a world around him.

Man isn’t here just for looking. He isn’t a doll. He isn’t waiting behind the glass. He loves and fights. He creates and destroys. He is action incarnate.

Man must never become mannequin. The day he does, he becomes useless.

Avoiding the fate of the mannequin is a struggle for the man who cares about his style and personal aesthetic.

It’s easy to see how a man becomes a mannequin. One day, he decides that he wants to dress better. He starts to care about his clothes. He starts to develop his eye. He starts to stake out opinions about what he likes and what he doesn’t.

He likes jeans of a certain shade. He likes chinos with a certain rise. He likes a certain kind of balanced stripe. He doesn’t like checks. He develops his taste, and he becomes more particular. He cares more about his clothes. He spends more money on his clothes. And this all means that he takes greater care of his clothes.

La Piscine

And this is a good thing, right? Yes and no. A man should care about his clothing. He should take care to cultivate his personal aesthetic. He should appear strong in his clothes. He should dress with intention. It is good that he cares.

Yet this care can mutate into something toxic. It can turn into something unhealthy and unbecoming. Less man and more something else. He becomes like a collector. He becomes too fastidious and neurotic.

It’s possible for him to care too much about keeping his clothes perfect. He can care so much about his clothes that they become an idol that he worships. He can become so attached to his precious shirts and favorite pants that he ends up retreating from the world because he doesn’t want to put them in danger.

He can’t go lay in the grass because he is concerned about grass stains. He worships perfection. He can’t go out in the rain because he is worried about his jacket. He can’t go for a walk in the back because he doesn’t want to hurt his nice shoes. He can’t relax because he is too worried about his clothes.

He can’t. He can’t. He can’t.

He becomes less engaged with the world because he doesn’t want to damage his wonderful clothes. He no longer wears the clothes. They are now wearing him. They don’t serve him. He serves them.

He becomes stiffer in his movements. He is wearing clothes that he loves, but he doesn’t seem at home in them. He looks great, but he doesn’t look comfortable.

You know him when you see him. You can feel that something is off. He is always adjusting his sleeves, his collar, his tie, his pants. He isn’t present and living; he is always thinking about how he looks in his clothes. He secretly longs to be a mannequin. If only he could just stay still. If only he didn’t have to move about like a living and breathing man.

Le Samouraï

A man should care about his personal aesthetic. He should know what looks good and what doesn’t. He should embody an aesthetic that is natural and true. He should realize that his clothing is part of his culture and it matters a great deal.

He should put a great fit together in the morning, but then he should forget all about it. He should never forgo some activity out of fear of hurting some precious garment. His clothing should never hold him back. It should accompany him on his journey through life.

He shouldn’t worry about wrinkles; they are natural. He should’t worry about stains; they will come out. Bumps and bruises are a sign of life lived. Rips and tears mean action. He should live naturally and aesthetically.

Men must dress well, but not as mannequins. Men are not dolls. Men are meant to act in the world. A man dressed with intention exerting his will on the world is living aesthetics. It is vitalistic.

It is man, not mannequin.