The Gentleman Collector: Ties, Pocket Squares, and Scents as a Living Archive
Some people collect paintings, others collect wines. I collect ties, pocket squares, shirts, and scents — not to lock them away, but to live inside them. My wardrobe is my museum, and every morning I choose which exhibition the world will see
There are collectors of paintings, wines, and vintage watches. Some spend fortunes on antique books or rare vinyls. My collection hides in plain sight: it hangs neatly in my wardrobe. Ties, pocket squares, shirts — artifacts of fabric that form a living archive.
Unlike the dusty halls of a museum, my collection breathes. I can fold a square of silk and place it in my pocket, and suddenly I am wearing a fragment of autumn in Kyoto, or a whisper of Savile Row on a Tuesday morning. A tie knot can feel like curating an exhibition, choosing which color, which texture, which brushstroke of cloth the world will see today.
Clothes are not just clothes when they are collected with intention. They are symbols of taste, memory, and possibility. The striped shirt that recalls a Paris flea market, the violet tie that was bought on a whim but worn to the most important meeting, the pocket square that looks like a painting — they are my artifacts, my museum pieces, but infinitely more useful.
And then there are the bottles. Perfume, like silk, is a form of storytelling. A single drop can transport me to a cedar forest, a Sicilian orchard, or a smoky London club. Some bottles are architectural marvels in their own right, crowned in glass and gold, while others hide quietly behind labels. Each fragrance is not just a scent, but a portal — a way to archive moods, moments, and even entire chapters of life.
Perhaps the great secret of collecting is this: you never really collect objects, you collect selves. Every new shirt is a potential version of who you might be. Every folded square is a story waiting to be told. Every fragrance is a memory bottled, ready to be uncorked.
And unlike paintings, my collection has no ropes, no glass, no alarms. I can wear it. I can live inside it. I can walk out into the day and let the exhibition begin.
