Why it's harder to be immature in NYC

Here's a fun fact about me: 

I'm really immature. 

Not like, pettily immature -- 

[[ I'm not one to cause drama or start fights or get mad about issues that are really non-issues. ]]

I really mean immature in the true sense of the word. 

As in - Oftentimes/always, I act like I'm 5 years old. 

For example : 

This has, strangely enough, never been a huge issue. 

Mainly because, throughout the course of my life, the people to which I've remained close have grown to accept the fact that at any given moment, I might spontaneously bust into any given number of Disney songs without ample notice. 

Lately, though, I've struggled to find folks who are as willing to accept this side of me. 

In fact, it's especially evident when it comes to my sense of style. 

This sporty-5-year-old-meets-frumpy-business-man-meets-homeless-person-meets-Pocahontas manner of dressing is becoming less and less acceptable as I'm thrown into more and more encounters for which black is the only acceptable option. 

I think it's largely due in part to time // 

or, I should say, the lack of it. 

Back in WI, there was more time to prove that, despite my strange sense of style or goofy tendencies, I was motivated and ambitious and willing to work. 

Essentially, I could expand outside of the first impressions that were made about me. 

sweater: madewell, shorts: 3.1 phillip lim, shoes: vintage

Here, however, the pace of life is too fast to ignore these first impressions- and the only first impression that does the trick involves looking like a "serious business-minded New Yorker". 

Or, you know,

wearing black. 

Which really just makes me want to act like a 5 year old even more

soo..

this is going well.

Cheers.


Photos by Matt Engelart.