Black sandals, blue jeans, black belt, and a red or white polo shirt. Or in another occasion, official crisp-free shirt, blue jeans, black belt, and a black or brown leather boots. Or a red T-shirt, black or blue jeans, black belt, and clean canvas shoes with a white stripe at the bottom. Picture all these scenarios with a beautiful watch and an enticing cologne, and you got yourself a date without trying any harder.
Standing at the entrance of the new Naivas Supermarket that used to be Barclays Bank along Kenyatta Avenue on a chilly Friday evening, I could not help but admire the different people minding their business (es). Women dressed in official clothes flaunting their perfect makeup and heels on a cool Friday evening. Men dressed in one-piece suits and crisp clean shirts meeting up with them and laughing so loudly. Girls dressed in jeans and crop tops in the middle of ‘spring’ showing off their flat tummies that I could only admire. Old men walking with large bags, looking like they are moving away with all their troubles. A woman stands beside me directing a man to where she is, dressed in skinny blue jeans and a body-hugging white top. In the midst of all the chaos and admiration, I could not help but think of how times have changed.
A while back a man in a blue suit would have swept me off my feet (at least he did for the first 3 years of my dating life), but now they scare me more than I care to admit. Men dressed up like Barney Stinson will always be attractive to me. I prefer having a metrosexual man to a Macho man and my preferences are rather obvious. Who wouldn’t mind having a man who knows how to dress classy, simply and maturely? Who wouldn’t want a man who knows what cologne to use? Who wouldn’t want a man who keeps his nails short and clean? And who wouldn’t want a man who knows personal hygiene? But, looking beneath the layers of class, and appearance, most men in blue suits are struggling financially.
Life in Nairobi is hard.
I am a bibliophile, and I am proud of it. I have been reading financial books for the longest times and testing out theories through observation and personal confessions, and sadly, men in suits struggle a little harder than they would let in. They will have trouble making ends meet and keeping up with their exquisite social lives. They will party all night in clubs around CBD, Westlands, Lang’ata and Baricho road. With NTSA all over, they will rather go home and rave joints like Pipers around Equity, Kasarani. On Saturday morning, they will be like, ‘Yoh man, punguza volume msee! ‘Richie, sssshhh. Richie: nyi wasee tuongeze mzinga. And the cycle continues. I have nothing against this lifestyle, it’s just that I want more from my man.
Interestingly, if you want to build an empire with a man around you, you have to be visionary. A few years ago I was sure that I would walk into my empire, managed by a man in a blue suit, and continue building it together. But there is more beyond the suit, men who build empires will most likely be dressed in a pair of sandals, blue jeans, and a red t-shirt driving an economy car sitting in traffic. Or better yet, men who will help you to continue building your empire, will be the latter case of men.
Have a cheerful afternoon!
