#White Pocket Squares

[aristocratsbowsnties]

White Pocket Squares: The Definitive Guide for Men

In the nuanced realm of menswear, the minutiae of an accessory can profoundly influence the perception of an ensemble. Among these accessories, the White Pocket Square emerges as a quintessential element, offering a blend of elegance and refinement to a diverse array of attire. Suitable for a wide spectrum of occasions from formal gatherings to casual outings, the white pocket square is an indispensable component of a modern gentleman's wardrobe. This comprehensive guide endeavors to elucidate the importance, styling nuances, and upkeep of the White Pocket Square, facilitating its seamless integration into a man's sartorial arsenal.

The Importance of a White Pocket Square

A White Pocket Square transcends its mere function as a decorative fabric nestled in the breast pocket of a suit or blazer, symbolizing a meticulous attention to detail and a cultivated sense of style. Historically, pocket squares served pragmatic purposes such as dabbing perspiration or cleaning eyewear. However, their evolution into a decorative accessory has come to signify a man's social standing and fashion consciousness.

Opting for a white pocket square signifies an adherence to classic elegance. White, with its connotations of purity, cleanliness, and sophistication, is universally compatible with any suit or blazer, irrespective of color or pattern. Furthermore, it signifies a reverence for tradition and the occasion at hand, be it matrimonial ceremonies, formal dinners, or pivotal business meetings.

Styling a White Pocket Square

The art of styling a White Pocket Square is both simple and intricate, requiring careful consideration to perfect. Below are strategies to ensure the pocket square complements rather than detracts from your attire:

Folding Techniques: The fold of your pocket square can express varying degrees of formality and individuality. The classic flat fold, known as the presidential fold, is suited for formal events, offering a crisp and understated appearance. For a less formal or more expressive ensemble, the puff fold or the three-point fold may be appropriate.

Consideration of Ensemble: While the white pocket square is remarkably versatile, it should be coordinated thoughtfully with the rest of your attire. It is most striking against suits or blazers in contrasting hues, such as navy, black, or grey. When paired with a white shirt, the pocket square should be immaculate to maintain an air of sophistication.

Material and Texture: The fabric of your pocket square can introduce an additional dimension of interest to your look. Silk pocket squares are preferable for formal events due to their subtle sheen and luxurious texture, whereas linen or cotton pocket squares offer a textured, matte finish that is suitable for casual or semi-formal settings.

Maintenance of Your White Pocket Square

Preserving the unblemished appearance of your White Pocket Square is essential. Given its susceptibility to visible marks or stains, the following maintenance tips are recommended:

Washing: Gently hand wash your pocket square in cool water using a mild detergent. Bleaching should be avoided to prevent damage to the fabric fibers.

Drying: Instead of hanging, lay the pocket square flat to dry to avert stretching. The use of a dryer should be avoided, as high temperatures can induce shrinkage or fabric damage.

Ironing: Employ a low heat setting for ironing to prevent scorching the fabric. For silk pocket squares, a pressing cloth should be used to safeguard the delicate material.

Conclusion

The White Pocket Square stands as an emblem of sophistication and meticulous grooming. It signifies not just an element of personal adornment but a commitment to upholding the highest standards of elegance. Whether for a formal occasion or enhancing everyday attire, the white pocket square significantly amplifies a man's aesthetic appeal. By adhering to the principles of styling, coordination, and diligent care outlined in this guide, one can confidently incorporate the White Pocket Square into their wardrobe, achieving a refined and distinguished appearance.

[newsprezzatura]

New Sprezzatura

[zero-zoxx-international]

Multiplizierter Herr mit fliegender Sahnetorte (Multiplied Gentleman With Flying Cream Cake), 1984-2004 by Sammy Tornado

[mensuited]

[blackmensuited]

[databent]

meouww

[literalgerm]

forgot to mention last week my coworker came in and pulled this LIVE BIRD out of his SHIRT POCKET and told me he it was uninjured and it let him pick it up to carry around. I said he was like Snow White.

THEN HE DROPPED IT BACK INTO HIS POCKET AND LEFT.

[nomaishuttle]

ok the lady said my jnterview clothes should be 'casual, but presentable'. i have jeans and a short sleeve button up does that seem casual yet presentable. urgent

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Made some bracelets 💕

Feat: the other bracelets I have in rotation

[sweetsweetbumblebee]

this is the vision btw

[newsprezzatura]

New Sprezzatura

[zero-zoxx-international]

Edler Herr mit vom Wind zerzausten Haaren (Noble Gentleman With Wind-Blown Hair), 1996 by J.G.Wind

[mensuited]

[blackmensuited]

[jennhoney]

Has everyone else been picturing Lynda Carter carrying around the 44lb $10 Parmesan wedge? That’s what I’ve been doing most of the day.

[sunsburns]

okay but logan taking an interest in neighbor who works in fashion?? he always sees her carrying stacks of magazines, dressed in her chic attire that is sometimes a bit too tight in all the right areas, glasses slipping off her nose, always making calls on that damn phone, and yet he always wishes she looked his way…

oh anon ur cooking here. i think this is what's pulling me out of my writing slump 🥴 (wade breaking the fourth wall, suggestive 16+)

the first time he noticed you, it wasn't even in your building complex, but rather the stairs to the subway station down the street. you were rushing up the steps while he, wade, laura and al were just about to enter. it was al who noticed you first, calling out your name and poking your side with her walking staff.

you shrieked, dropping one of the fabric rolls you had been carrying, a curse at the tip of your tongue before you realized who it was. "al," you sighed, a little relieved, when you saw her and wade, who was dressed in a "i love nyc" t-shirt.

logan, being the gentleman he was, picked up the roll you dropped, handing it back to you. it was then that you looked at him, or well, briefly glanced his way with a quick "thank you" before wade started fucking talking.

that son of a bitch.

he didn't even have the courtesy to introduce the two of you to each other.

it was obvious you were in a rush, lips in a tight smile as you nodded and tried to smile at wade telling you all about how they were about to "hit up" times square.

logan felt bad for you, but only a little bit. the longer you stayed to listen to wade's painful monologue, the more he could look at you. he was a little shameless about it, perhaps not the most gentlemanly thing he could've done, but god you were just a sight for sore eyes.

a pretty thing in a mini skirt despite the cool late september breeze that was starting to kick, white, lace and ruffled. delicate with tall brown leather boots. and a washed-out denim vest you wore as a top, two buttons undone, a little pink bow tied to the pocket. logan didn't know a lot about fashion, but he liked the way clothes looked on you.

and then you were gone, al kicking wade across the shin to shut him the hell up when she realized you were in a rush. she let you go, and you left, quickly trading numbers with laura and without saying much of a goodbye or another glance logan's way.

but he watched you go, watched the way your skirt moved with the wind too.

"yeah, look at it bounce. god, i am no better than any man. " wade hummed, leaning all his weight on logan's side. "i didn't peg you as a creep, honey badger. with the way you were undressing the reader with your eyes, i would've thought you were on a registered sex offender's list."

"shut the fuck up, wade."

logan could hear the way laura snorted, her and al continuing their way down the stairs.

wade held his hands up in surrender before logan could try anything (and by anything, he meant to cut him to pieces. wade can't deal with that right now, the blood would take ages to get off his white shirt). "i'm just saying, after living with us for a few months, i would've thought you'd met her by now."

logan raised his brow, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i mean, she literally lives across the hall." wade turned his head to the side, pointing his thumb at logan, "he can't possibly be this stupid, right? it's gotta be for the plot to build up tension or something."

from that day on, logan's started to notice you more. not that he was looking for you, he's not that big of a creep. but he's spotted you out the window some days, running down the sidewalk, always in a rush. then he was able to hear the way you slam your door shut when you leave in the mornings or when you get back home.

every single day, you're usually out and about. unless it's a sunday, those are the days you stay in your apartment, sewing and hanging out with blind old al and sometimes even fucking laura. turns out, you were the one who got laura all of those new clothes, made them for her.

jesus christ, how out of the loop was he?

you stood out like a sore thumb, always carrying something. whether it be magazines, sketchbooks, fabric rolls, or bags, you're always struggling to open your door when you get home, keys sometimes slipping from your grasp as you're trying to juggle everything.

one day, logan had come back from a run and spotted you in the hallway. well, he had heard you from floors below and was able to pick up the lingering scent of your perfume by the time he entered the lobby. it took him a bit of courage to walk up the few flights of stairs knowing he'd bump into you.

what the fuck was this?

he was a grown-ass man for god's sake. you had him overthinking and blushing at the mere thought of being in the same space again.

when he saw you in the hallway, you were on the phone, the device tucked between your ear and your shoulder, cursing under your breath as you tried to pick up your keys. you were wearing a black dress that day, a black hat and a big maroon scarf around your neck, "no, emily, don't fucking buy it in that colour. it looks like fucking vomit. i don't care what amy told you, she's basically colour blind-"

you stopped mid-sentence when logan appeared in front of you, grabbing the keys for you. "oh- uh. thanks."

"yeah, no problem."

he noticed your nails and glasses were dark red to match the scarf. lipstick too.

you didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, he could tell from the way you froze, as if you didn't know what was supposed to happen next. he had disrupted your daily pattern, everything in your life moving constantly and quickly but all of a sudden everything is slower. it left you breathless.

"you're logan, right?"

he furrowed his brows. he hadn't expected you to remember him, nevertheless, remember his name. "yeah."

"wade told me all about you," you said, and your eyes dropped from his face a little, then lower, a smirk not too different from a sly cat's. you were staring shamelessly, eyes following every part and curve of his body, the way his long-sleeve shirt clung to his skin with sweat. "you don't seem austrailan."

logan tried not to groan. the picture of wade's stupid face in his mind now that you've mentioned him. he hated that the two of you seemed close. "i'm canadian."

"aren't you full of surprises?" you laughed, a smooth, teasing sound, and finally pushed the keys into the nob, unlocking the door. you turned, lingering by the door as if you were about to invite him in, but then the voice from your phone was trying to get your attention and you nearly seemed disappointed. "i'll see you around, logan."

and you were gone again.

logan liked to see your different outfits every day, dawning a different style every time you walked out that door. it was like you could never settle for one style, but you managed to look so fucking good in everything and every colour you put on.

he could never get tired of it. never get tired of you.

you and your tiny bottoms that he swore were getting smaller and smaller every day, even though the city grew colder and the days shorter. you and your stupid phone calls that sometimes went on late at night. you and your clothes, every single one different from the last.

you and your sketches, the ones he had started to find loose pages on the floor of the small hallway between your apartments, pretty designs of lingerie on a model that looked a little bit too much like you for it to be a coincidence.

though you never made another attempt to talk to him, you knew he was watching you. but you never chased, your heels were too expensive for that. you were just trying to give him a reason to come on you.

to you**

to come to you.*

sorry. typo.