Delicate streetwear

Another wedding (portraits)

Some blogs practically live out from photos of fashion events. My reality is different, the only invitations I get are for weddings. But this wasn’t just an ordinary wedding. This was the wedding of the guy that once taught me how to tie a tie. But since shooting the bride and groom would be too stupid (even for me) I was stuck with the two guests that claimed the “coolest guy in the party” title.

It’s not by accident that 90% of the photos in this blog are vertical, but sometimes just a simple portrait is enough to see the good looks of who is being photographed. One of them seemed to take advantage; he was well escorted…

P.S.: I spend too much time with the camera on my hand to take it to weddings. The photographers took their own pictures.

New York City

A friend of mine spent a few days in New York. That’s where the blog that influenced Alfaiate was born, and that’s where you can more easily find people that are good looking and diverse enough to be photographed, so it seems. He asked me if I wanted him to bring me anything, and I said “Take a few pictures”.

DJs on windows, chronic posers, guys for whom 5ºC are enough to leave the socks at home and best friends with 40 centimeters difference. A little taste of NYC…

A man and his beret

To approach a gentleman old enough to be my grandfather, you need to have an additional commitment. I put on my most angelic smile and I try to speak with the same tone as I used to ask good looking girls to get my group of young and desperate boys inside of exclusive nightclubs. However, this little effort always pays back. A man this age has a charm that no other can have. On ¾ of the times that a Portuguese man wears a suit, he does it with a plain shirt and tie (I’m so convinced of this ratio that I’m almost tempted to believe there’s a scientific study behind this). Except for the concept man that wears black over white shirt, I just don’t understand this sadness and boredom. However, those that were born before the Spanish Civil War seem to have the necessary self-esteem and relaxation to wear checkers jackets, handkerchiefs, lots of stripes and berets.
I’m forced to wear coat and tie 5 days a week, and I got used to look up to these gentlemen with respect. Half of my jackets have a pattern that could be used as a board game, most of my shirts and ties have stripes, I have a few handkerchiefs of my own (for which I never found the right occasion) but the beret… I simply can’t. But I wish I could…

Genuine skatewear in Santa Luzia

Caps, beanies, headbands holding hairs… torn sleeves, wrist bands, tattoos stating their love to the sport and the usual footwear. On those fifteen minutes I’ve been there, I realised that skatewear is even more street than streetwear itself.

My precedent

What I do is simple. I approach people telling them that I have a blog where I publish photos of people that I find interesting. There have been some cases where I took the pictures first and only then I went and talked to the person. This would be one of those. She passed right before me, I took her picture and took off my headphones to talk to her. And I would have done it, if a friend to whom we used to call Conan on our teens didn’t show up. I never enjoyed saying no to him, and when Conan wants to give me a hug, I wouldn’t dare saying no. I know it’s not much of an excuse, and my good judgment reminds me that I shouldn’t publish images of people that don’t even dream they have been photographed.
Summing up, this is my clumsy way of apologizing to this lady and, at the same time, thanking her for being here. I liked the coat/poncho/écharpe (it seemed like a mix of those three), the headphones and the whole suit. I can only hope that someday she can meet this blog and also enjoy it.

All that I couldn’t wear

People absolutely different from me are the ones that I most enjoy taking pictures of. People that, when I talk about my blog, raise their eyebrows saying “do you really like the way I dress?” Then I say “yes, it would be delighted to take you a picture and post it on my blog”. And I’m not being ironic.

If I wanted more of the same (…) I would just publish catalogues from Timberland (don’t get me wrong, I even have a pair of boots) or Tommy Hilfiger (don’t get me wrong, the models are almost as good looking as the ones that show on Ermenegildo Zegna’s windows; if on the first case I recycle the catalogue even before my girlfriend has a chance to touch it, on the second case I always make something up to get me to the other side of the street, so that she doesn’t even know that those guys exist).

Long story short, I never wore a Rasta, at the age of fourteen my father “convinced me” not to pierce my ears and, strangely, I don’t wear sunglasses. All I have is chest hairs, and I enjoy admiring what’s different from me. Why don’t you try it…

sms on Rua da Assunção

The girl with the hat

I’ve been noticing her for two years. I always knew where to find her and what time. I just needed a good excuse… Not anymore.

Moment of elegance

I never wore black and straight hair always seemed to me one of the biggest blessings of nature. That’s exactly why I have so much fun publishing these pictures… I simply don’t care if black is in or out on March 2009. There are images that deserve to be looked at without hurries, and I just keep them.

It’s true that you don’t need to be a Scouter for an agency to see that this kid is a model. But this blog is not just about good physical looks. It’s about another type of good looks… the one that comes with the sensitivity of each one of us… (but because excessive good looks doesn’t bother me that much…) And now… for those that suggested that Lisbon didn’t justify a full-time Taylor, I ask:
- Do you really think so?

Baleal Island (at a wedding)

Because I thought that each one of them deserved their own individual highlight, I took two frames of one single picture.


Vintage Ray-Ban, thin fantasy tie and Polaroid (do you still remember Polaroids?)


Audrey Hepburn sunglasses, red belt and pink handkerchief.

Erasmus pink

As the number of students that choose Lisbon to spend a few months in their life keeps rising (and I’m glad they do), sooner or later I would come across with one of them.

Several years ahead

Walking by Rossio, with a tan, without much patience to shave and with a camera on my hands, people are more likely to think that I’m trying to sell it, instead of taking pictures of anyone. Long story short… Martin here only calmed down when he heard, between smiles, that I wasn’t trying to sell anything. Misunderstandings aside, he let himself be photographed with the simplicity of a guy that seems to be… several years ahead.

London mates (waiting for the tram 28)