Goddamn Good Gloves.
So I like bikes, have you heard?
I also like good bike gear.
I really like Grifter. See there is a line, a hair-thin line … a hipster beard hair-thin line, between authentically cool, and skinny-jean fugazi. It’s a hard line to ride and Grifter basically just nails it.
I mean who is making love to who here? Is he making love to the gloves? Is his beard making love to his face? Or is it just a damn sexy ménage à trios…
I have two pairs of gloves from Grifter, and I’m having a love affair with both of them. The first is the Onyx Ranger Wool Lined Glove (damn sexy name kids), which is basically a selvage denim top and a silky deer skin bottom, and just like you want your transexuals to be, its super versatile; light enough to shove in your pockets, but packing enough protection to keep your little sausages warm.
And did I mention they look like they walked out of Teddy Rosevelts toolbox?
The second pair, which I’ve worn to bed on a few occasions (don’t judge), is the El Blanco (Ok, they’re called “The Blanco” but I’m going spaghetti western on this one). Say, for instance, you wanna floss a bit more. Say you’re into waxed canvas and mexican blanket roll-os. Say you stop right there and just grab a pair. The only thing wrong with this Cone Mills Denim and Bison leather glove is I haven’t owned it for 10 years, because I have a feeling, much like George Clooney, they are just gonna look better in time.
(And Monica Bellucci. I mean seriously. Can we get them together for a night?)
Look, gloves are like lovers: you can’t really explain what it feels like when you wear them, you just gotta try them on. So go get your hands laid. They deserve it. And Grifter is basically the high class Monte Carlo hooker of gloves.