People always ask me how I prepare for a night out. Well, it is a complicated step-by-step process now that I have to do every night before I go out.
It takes a while, but you will feel 120% everytime when your roll (and I don’t mean Beans, either).
First things first, I have a good day. I go to the boxing gym or get a good workout on. Then, after getting some work done, I go for a good open ocean swim. This helps clear the head no matter what you did the night before. Then I usually swim some underwater laps in the pool. I typically get a little sunset walk on as well to clear the mind. Or I get a second work out at my boxing gym.
I bust styles, new styles, standing Strong, while, others run a hundred miles. – Ice Cube
This is an old school G Manifesto move from the Chambers of around the time I started writing The G Manifesto:
Back when I was really making my mark in The Game, I used to stay at a lot of dope hotels, like Four Seasons, Ritz-Carlton’s, Peninsula’s and Mandarin Orientals. Not to mention ill independents.
I would usually conduct meetings with a few heavies in the lobby bars over drinks during a few day period.
Of course, I was Suited Down in a different hard hitting combination each night.
As you know, many times these hotels have some pretty dope cocktail waitresses.
I would usually ignore them for the most part, as I was focused on biz and I don’t mean Markie, either.
However, after a few days of the cocktail waitress seeing how I operated, Custom Suited Down, they would usually step to me.
After swooping a few fly cocktail waitresses and finally swooping one super fly cocktail waitress at Lowes in Miami Beach, I realized what was happening:
The Custom Suits were landing on these girls like heavy body punches.
The dope Custom Suit combinations were simply wearing these girls down.
I definitely recommend looking into it.
My Game should be locked in a cell. It ain’t hard to tell.
A lot of people ask me questions about Custom Suits.
Well, before you buy one, watch this excellent video about Ozwald Boateng.
I typically make a stop by his Savile Row shop every summer in London. Cool cats they are.
Style is confidence.
Style is respect.
Style is personal.
Style is passion.
Style is seduction.
Style is sensual.
Style is creativity.
Style is individual.
Style is success.
Style is power.
Style is instinct.
One of the most common questions I get when I am stopped on the Streets, Los Calles, and Las Avenidas of the world is: “Why should I buy a Custom Suit?”
Well, beyond the obvious, there are two main reasons:
In today’s age, the Tailor is an Endangered Species. These cats are old. And sadly, dying off. (Kind of like what Jim Rogers says about farmers and one of the reasons why the Agriculture sector is a solid long term play for your Bankroll).
I personally, don’t want to see that happen.
Help America
America is in pretty bad shape. One of many reasons we are in this position is because we don’t make anything anymore.
Last year, I moved over to an American Tailor. (Well, I am kind of lying, I still go to Savile Row every year to pick up some Custom Suits). My tailor is a legend in The Game and has made suits for Cary Grant and Frank Sinatra (and I won’t say any more because I don’t want to give away who he is.)
He charges a grip, but I would gladly pay double knowing how well they work. Hell, triple.
Bottom line, which would you rather wear?
A Custom Suit, made in The USA?
Or a glittery T-shirt and tight jeans made in China?
(If you answered the latter, go kill yourself. Or better yet, give me your address.)
I was with one of my droogs from way back when we were flipping Beans, talking biz and trading war stories at a pretty dope lunch spot that is pretty hipstered out (but keep in mind this is Southern California so it is kind of pseudo-hipster).
The owner, some top-flight glam hipster cat who everyone thinks is so cool (and unbelievably girls like the guy, or maybe not so “unbelievably” in this day and age) came over to greet us.
He is a fan.
My friend and I are trying to talk dollars and sense and I got skippy in a fedora yapping in my ear asking me where I have been this year and on and on.
When I finally brushed him off so he could go make yogurt double lattes with extra whipped cream, or whatever the hell hipsters drink, my friend, who is a certified International Playboy just like me said, “Typical stay at home American. Minimal passports stamps, that guy. Probably does the Maui-Las Vegas-Cabo triangle and thinks he is making moves…”
I said, “Yeah, just like those cats that move some ounces and think they are causing a crimewave…” before I noticed something that was making me edgy for the last 10 minutes…
Every goddamn girl sitting outside of this “trendy, up-market, hipster joint” are wearing Ugg Boots.
I almost flipped my lid. (I think it is because I have been sparring again. F*ck Halloween. I have been turning into a Monster. I had to spark up a cigarette to calm down.)
This Ugg Boot stuff really has to stop.
Look. I have heard the excuses from Americant girls.
“High-Heels just aren’t comfortable during the day…”
Bullsh*t.
In Riga, Latvia, girls wear high heels on cobblestones. In wintertime.
And I have heard girls say:
“I just can’t move around in high heels…”
Bullsh*t again.
I know an Exotic Dancer that can do this Bruce Lee Move on the stage in High Heels:
