Obey

He does it his own way. Patterned t-shirts with wild patterns and skulls and foreboding dicta like “OBEY” splashed across the front in bold. Button-downs, sometimes, and khakis, but Union Jack socks and Supra sneakers. Other times SB Dunks and Ray-Ban Clubmasters, $200 ripped jeans. Because he still wears his hair in the bowl cut he had in middle school, he looks like a Beach Boy with an attitude.

He doesn’t listen to those guys though, wouldn’t be caught dead listening to them. He listens to other music, weird music. Like YelaWolf. “Hip Hop / Ghettotech / Alternative”: that’s how they self-identify. Ghettotech? Alternative, at least, makes sense.

To the Exeter game, he wore a mink coat and a backpack for no particular reason. And looked good. People stared, but he didn’t mind; it’s what he wanted. Prep school not the most mixed of companies, yet he breathes confidence, is comfortable with this image he projects. He enjoys distinguishing himself, enjoys being distinguished. He has a necklace made of human bones.

More often than not, he is smiling, a tight-lipped smile, with the ends just hinting at an understated bliss. His smile has a sort of smirk to it, one side a little higher. As if he is smoking a pipe. He doesn’t though, doesn’t see the point to it. Drinks a little, maybe, but not much. Too cool for it. He just does what he likes. And he does it his own way. And that’s cool.

(Write about a specific style)