There is something so visually compelling to me about the archetypal Americana aesthetic of hooks on a wall piled with denim and khaki, a drawer of colorful silk foulard and paisley, and every kind of plaid and striped button down imaginable lined up in a closet. However, there’s having the taste for the timeless and then there’s knowing what to do with it, to make it artful, like Brett does. Three-piece suits with the pants tucked into Hunter boots, purple khakis with the Grapes of Wrath cap, gray flannels with Converse sneakers, and scarves at the neck tied with that perfect worn tight twist (hard to achieve) never looked so good. Brett does not fool around with authenticity; with his mid-shin hand-made moccassins that are made with the thickest of leather and raw hide laces, his trousers which are ideally high-waisted (not too skinny and not too wide), and of course the quintessential white Jack Purcells, there isn’t a chance of looking faddy or cheap. His role models are people like his father, who always cared about his appearance and wore suits to high school, and the Tuskegee Airmen from WWII, whose style (and courage) made history. Amidst the era of disposable fashion, Brett’s steadfast passion for the past commands respect.