A few months ago, I was rolling with my Corporate friend and he had to go to South Coast Plaza to pick up a suit and some shoes. I told him he should just go Custom with my tailor, but him being a Corporate guy, he is kind of a cheapskate. But that is neither here nor there, and I decided to roll with.
While he grabbed an Armani suit (which was actually not bad, nothing compared to the handmade craftsmenship of my my tailor though), I decided to dip into Gucci and picked up a pair of Gucci Slides (pictured above, although the ones I grabbed were dark brown), even though I prefer handmade shoes from London these days.
So far I have been happy with the purchase.
I have swooped a fly girl everytime I have worn them so far: I went 1-0 in Los Angeles, 2-0 in Palm Beach, FL, 2-0 in Buenos Aires and 2-0 in Miami Beach. Decent.
(Side Note: I am only counting nights where I swooped a fresh girl. I am not counting nights I wore them and swooped a girl I already swooped. I don’t want to “pad” the record, so to speak).
The price tag? 5 bills. But knowing what I know now, I would have easily paid double.
I would strongly recommend picking up a pair or three, although I think they are discontinued. I anticipate they should work great for summer in coastal Spain at the topless beaches and for The Del Mar Racetrack.
Keep in mind though, I am not sure if these Gucci Loafers were 100% of the reason I went undefeated. It is really kind of hard to track. Furthermore, I have been feeling great lately (minus a health scare), traveling, making mad CASH, sparring heavy, and I have been doing it all in Custom Suits. So you could say I am on a roll, and I don’t mean E-tabs either.
These days, I can pretty much tell any top flight actor, musician or athelete to f*ck off with lifestyle.
I am a pretty big advocate of the International Playboy lifestyle choice.
I am mildly surprised more people out there aren’t embracing it.
“Let your greatest cunning lie in covering up what looks like cunning”– Baltasar Gracián (Spanish Jesuit and baroque prose writer), 1601-1658
“Winning comes down to two things: Taking advantage of your opponents mistakes and perfect timing” – Michael John Mason VI (Father to son boxing advise when I was a young amateur)
This year, when I haven’t been traveling, I have been spending a bunch of time in Beverly Hills, working on some big “heists”, so to speak. So after Entering The Dragon at The Wildcard and a beautiful day at the Getty, I find myself at a Private Club in West Hollywood for dinner and drinks.
Here are the attendees at the dinner:
• Entertainment CEO, who I have never met
• Oscar nominated Producer, who I have met
• My friend in the Horse world and girlfriend
• My friend who works at big corporation putting it all together
• Some young Hollywood Actor, who I don’t know
• Hollywood stylist guy (British), who I don’t know
• Two Brazilian model girls, who came with Producer guy
• And Your humble author, AKA Your favorite International Playboy’s favorite International Playboy
It promises to be a pretty vague affair, and I have no real purpose being at the dinner, I was just invited by my friend, the corporate cat. It’s a meet and greet with a little biz on the agenda. You know, your typical Tableaux de mode turning into a Fête galante with potential to be a Bacchanale.
It should be noted that I feel slightly un-centered, possibly because of the fact that I completely out-gunned (so to speak) at this dinner, as almost everyone, save the girls, are more accomplished than I am (at least in a mainstream sense) and have longer dough. And it doesn’t exactly comfort me when I start having flashbacks of knuckle-ups “on the cobbles” with big Russian guys with bald heads and leather jackets, from a few weeks prior, either. It also should be noted that I have been increasingly been finding myself in these types of situations as I move up The Layer Cake of life.
However, I am dressed in a sick Custom Suit: jet black, peaked lapels, one-button, side vents and interior so crimson that if we were in South Central you might have thought I was Brim or Piru. Pocket Square the color of Colombian Blow.
The conversation at the table starts off cordial and loosens up as vino consumption is increased. I stay in the cut, and only add comments where necessary and when I can add value as I am well versed in many subjects these days (not bragging, just keeping it solid gold like 1oz American Eagle coins for you). Doing this keeps an air of mystery around me, and the table really starts coming around. Entertainment CEO double takes after I drop a few gems and asks me, “What is it that you do again?”
The Brazilian model girls take notice, which, of course, is not lost on me. Also, what is not lost on me is that the weesh Young Hollywood actor guys starts hating on me. Which, of course, I ignore and continue to stay in the seam.
Surprisingly, it is actually shaping up to be a great dinner; Entertainment CEO guy is running the show and is actually super cool, Oscar nominated Producer guy spins some good tales, my horse world friend and his girlfriend drop dimes, Stylist guy busts some hilarious tales that everyone loves, the Brazilian Girls are having fun and my corporate friend is gluing it all together. It is one of those rare occurrences:The whole table is gelling.
Well, maybe not Actor guy, as he is trying to “close talk” one of the Brazilian model girls (which is a weak move) but I notice her “body languageing” him away as I am busting out a story. I spit out a little Portuguese which the Brazilian Model girls love and the actor boy hates as he does not speak any.
Feeling good now, I drop some good lines:
I use the phrase, “like that guy from Wikileaks” multiple times, and even drop this one: “Oh you mean, Rahm Emanuel’s brother?” to check everyone as the discussion topics are a little too Hollywood-centric for my liking.
Since there is a lot of name dropping (albeit legitimate name dropping) going on, I comtemplate busting out my Wesley Snipes Story, but decide against it.
When Entertainment CEO guy asks me what I think of his favorite wine, I reply, “It is rich and decadent with seamless overtones of violets and homemade country jam, and it really has a Harmonious finish…” which sends the crowd wild. (Little did everyone at the table know, save my corporate friend, is that I always use that response when asked about the wine at dinners such as these.)
Hollywood stylist guy, throws out, “Who made your suit? It’s phenomenal…”
Entertainment CEO even shoots out a, “OK, that’s it, this is the best dinner I have been to all year!” after Stylist guy, who is a true raconteur tells another hilarious story (and I am not talking about those cats that made that dope movie Cocaine Cowboys either, or maybe I am).
“Camilla” the flyer of the two models, a true Beauty of monumentality and vulnerability, follows me for a smoke when actor boy is in the bathroom.
It’s on.
She starts asking me questions as I tell tales of Mediterranean courtyards and terraces and her vibe goes from romantic expectation to dreamy absorption to erotic playfulness quicker than a Samba dance at Carnaval.
We roll back to the table and the dinner is still frolicking along at a decent pace. Some owner and GM type cats roll by as well as plenty of West Coast style Hipster/Douchebag fusion types that Los Angeles is leading the world in producing these days. They are probably actors if I am hard pressed to guess.
Actor guy, vanquished, leaves in discomfiture with a couple of Hipster/Douchebag fusion types, I am presuming in search of Beaks.
Entertainment CEO has to go home to the wife and kids and the extravagant meal kind of breaks up. Some go to smoke weed, some merge with other tables, Camilla and I split for a drink.
Back at my dope hotel (which my horse world friend hooked me up at a discounted rate, I may add), Camilla plays the part of a young girl defending herself against Eros.
I play the part of Mischief and Repose.
Camilla and I sip a glass of wine and admire the sensuous textures of my suite: marble, fur, tile, silk, flesh…
The Rest is Up to You…
Michael Porfirio Mason
AKA The Peoples Champ
AKA GFK, Jr.
AKA The Sly, Slick and the Wicked
AKA The Voodoo Child
The Guide to Getting More out of Life
http://www.thegmanifesto.com
Disclaimer: Some of the above characters are merged and/or changed to protect the innocent. And the guilty. But then again, if you have a brain, you knew that already.
