Cator loves the Auntie Mame quote, “Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death,” because for him, you have to live it and breathe it all in. And he does – this man is all passion. We recently emailed him to let him know that his post was coming up, and we received an automatic response saying, “Greetings! I am away for a wedding in the depths of Africa, therefore I have no internet access, only tribal drums and smoke signals.” Cator was inspired to become a writer on a trip to India in his late 20′s, but not a “yogacentric nirvana trip. It was a boozed-out, wild party with a bunch of English people,” where he met a renowned British journalist that recognized his vivid imagination, well-bred sophistication, and ability to put “pen to paper” or “fingers to keyboard.” Today, Cator is a leading authority on men’s fashion, an interest that stems from his aesthetically Anglo-infused childhood in Atlanta, surrounded by people like his grandfather (who was “a bit of a dandy”), his great-grandfather (who wore only “white suits in the summer and wool tweeds in the winter”), and his mother (who let him set the table with lavish place settings every year for Christmas dinner). It’s all about visuals for Cator, and you can see it from his red room (an ode to taste icon Diana Vreeland) to his impeccable three-piece Brooks Brothers suit with every detail intact down to the Etro shirt, Vivienne Westwood tie, and antique watch fob. (It’s absolutely wild to think of Cator in his rave days, with stickers on his face and glitter everywhere). Appearance is so imperative that Cator writes in an Egyptian dress and Turkish slippers in order for his genius to flow.