Back in the early 2000s I rented a place in Huntington Beach for a couple years. Just a few steps from the beach. My neighbor owned his home. Had to be worth a couple million, at least. He left for work the same time in the morning that I did and he was always decked out. Rad perfect haircut all slicked down, sideburns razor sharp to within .003mm of each other, always double breasted suits, ventless and tailored perfectly, cuffed trousers with perfect break, beautiful silk ties perfectly dimpled in a full Windsor, cuff links, nice watch, the whole nine yards.

I noticed in the evenings and on weekends he toned it down a bit. And when I say a bit, I mean hard core beach bum. Untucked T-shirts that were fraying at the hems, shorts with holes and torn pockets, ratty flip flops with 90% of the sole missing, unshaven and bed head. After about six months we bumped into each other in the front yards and he invited me to a BBQ the coming weekend. We got to chatting about stuff and life at the beach in general. Somehow work/business made it's way into the conversation and I commented on how dapper he looks when he splits for work. He laughed and gestured towards his thrashed beach outfit and said, "This is me, those other clothes are just my 'Money Making Costumes', I only wear them because I have to, but frankly I hate that *****." I laughed hard....and felt kinda like I found a brother I never knew I had.