I once had to change clothes in the back of a New York taxi between a product launch event and a dinner with a major advertiser. The driver caught my eye in the rearview mirror as I was struggling into a fresh shirt, one arm stuck awkwardly in a sleeve, my head temporarily trapped in cotton.
“Late for something important?” he asked, amused.
“Always,” I mumbled through fabric.
That pretty much sums up my relationship with time. Despite writing about style for a living, I’m perpetually running behind schedule. I’ve conducted interviews with Italian tailors while frantically ironing shirts in hotel rooms. I’ve applied cologne at stoplights. I once put on socks while hopping down a hallway at Fashion Week, nearly taking out an editor from GQ in the process. She has yet to forgive me.
Which is why I’ve spent years perfecting the art of looking decent in almost no time at all. Not just passable, mind you—actually put-together. Like you planned it. Like you’re a functional adult who didn’t hit snooze four times before panic-rolling out of bed (even if that’s exactly what happened).
This isn’t about looking runway-ready or Instagram-perfect. It’s about looking intentional. Like you give a damn. That’s the secret most style experts won’t tell you—it doesn’t take perfect execution to look good. It just takes looking like you meant to wear exactly what you’re wearing. Intentionality is everything.
My friend Derek, a Chicago architect who regularly walks into client meetings looking impeccable despite having three kids under six, calls it “controlled dishevelment.” He’s mastered the art of looking polished without appearing like he spent hours getting there. “The trick,” he told me over beers last month, “is having better defaults.”
He’s absolutely right. The first rule of quick style is upgrading your baseline—the stuff you reach for without thinking. If your go-to items are already decent, you’re halfway there before you even start.
Take T-shirts. The $5 three-pack from the discount store will never look intentional, no matter how you style it. But spend $25-30 on a single well-cut tee in a good fabric (Bella+Canvas, Buck Mason, or even Uniqlo’s Supima cotton line), and suddenly even the simplest outfit looks considered. The collar doesn’t bacon after one wash. The proportions work with your body. The fabric doesn’t look like it’s one laundry cycle away from disintegrating.
I learned this lesson the hard way after showing up to interview the CEO of a major American heritage brand wearing what I thought was a “casual but classic” outfit. As I sat down, I caught his stylist giving my collar a look that could only be described as pitying. That night I went home and threw out every cheap shirt I owned. My bank account suffered, but my morning routine got infinitely easier.
The second trick is having a personal uniform—not in the Steve Jobs “identical turtleneck” sense, but a flexible template that works for your life and body type. For me, it’s dark jeans or chinos, solid-color button-downs or quality knits, and a rotation of three jackets depending on the season and occasion. I know these pieces work together in practically any combination, which eliminates decision fatigue when I’m rushing.
My friend Tasha, a marketing director who somehow manages to look impeccable at 7 AM meetings despite being a self-described “night person,” swears by this approach. “I have eight work dresses that all look great with the same two jackets and the same three pairs of shoes,” she told me. “I could get dressed in the dark and still look put together.” Knowing her tendency to work until 2 AM and then sleep through alarms, she probably has.
But let’s get tactical. You’ve overslept. You have exactly four minutes before you need to be out the door. Here’s how to look decent, I swear to god:
First, grab the best-fitting clean pants you own. Not the comfiest—the best-fitting. This is crucial. Well-fitting pants make everything else look more intentional. If they’re jeans, dark wash is always safer. If they’re chinos, navy, gray, or olive are your friends.
Next, reach for a shirt with structure. Button-downs, polos, or substantial knits always look more purposeful than tees, especially if you’re not 22 with perfect abs. If it’s a button-down, you don’t even need to iron the whole thing—just hit the collar, placket, and maybe the shoulders if you have 30 extra seconds.
Layer something over it if weather permits. Even the simplest outfit gets elevated by a layer—a lightweight jacket, an unstructured blazer, a quarter-zip, whatever. It immediately suggests thought and intention, even if your selection process was “this was on the chair.” The transformative power of a good jacket cannot be overstated. I’ve seen men go from schlubby to sharp by adding nothing but a well-fitting navy blazer.
Shoes matter more than you think. They’re often the first thing people notice, especially in professional settings. Keep a pair of clean, versatile shoes by the door. For most American men, that means leather sneakers, loafers, or Chelsea boots—all of which slip on quickly and work with nearly everything. And for the love of god, make sure they’re not visibly filthy. Nothing undermines an otherwise decent outfit like shoes that look like they’ve toured with a metal band.
Accessories should be minimal but purposeful. A decent watch saves any outfit—it’s the ultimate “I’m an adult who has my shit together” signal, even when that’s an absolute lie. If you wear glasses, they’re already your most important accessory, so make sure they actually suit your face. I made the mistake of buying trendy frames that made me look like an anthropomorphic owl for two years before a brutally honest optician set me straight.
Now for the emergency fixes—the 30-second interventions that make a disproportionate difference:
Tuck in your shirt if you’re wearing a button-down (unless it’s explicitly designed to be worn untucked). The military tuck—pinching the excess fabric at your sides and tucking it in toward your back—takes four seconds and eliminates billowing.
Fix your collar. Nothing screams “I got dressed in the dark” like a partially folded collar or one side sticking up while the other lies flat. Flip your collar up, then fold it down smoothly. If one point is longer than the other, you probably need a better shirt, but in the meantime, make sure they’re at least symmetrically askew.
Roll sleeves neatly if it’s appropriate for your workplace. The Italian method—turning the cuff back, then rolling everything up to just below the elbow—looks sharp and stays put better than haphazard pushing up. Takes maybe 15 seconds total.
Check your front placket if you’re wearing a button-down. Misaligned buttons are the universal signal for “I was running late.” Button from the bottom up rather than top down to avoid this rookie mistake.
Run a wet hand through your hair. Not ideal, but better than bedhead. If you have product within reach, use a tiny amount—emphasis on tiny. Looking like you fell face-first into a vat of gel is worse than slightly messy hair.
Give yourself a quick smell check. This sounds obvious but you’d be shocked how many otherwise well-dressed men skip this step. Deodorant is non-negotiable. A single spritz of cologne on your chest (not your neck, not your wrists, not enough to create a visible cloud) can salvage even the most rushed morning.
I’ve used this exact protocol dozens of times—most memorably before an impromptu meeting with Ralph Lauren himself, when a schedule mix-up left me with literally three minutes to transform from “just rolled out of bed after a late flight” to “professional style writer worthy of interviewing an icon.” Did I look my absolute best? No. Did I look intentional and put-together enough that no one knew I’d been panic-dressing moments earlier? Absolutely.
The final and perhaps most important trick: posture and confidence. Standing up straight instantly upgrades any outfit. My grandfather, who never left the house without a sport coat despite working as a mechanic most of his life, used to say, “Shoulders back, chin up, like you mean to be exactly where you are.” It’s the best style advice I’ve ever received.
We all have those mornings—the alarm fails, the coffee spills, the universe conspires to ensure you leave the house looking like you dressed during an earthquake. But with a few strategic upgrades and emergency protocols, you can still walk out the door looking like a person who has their life together.
Even if, like me, you’re still buttoning your cuffs in the elevator. Even if you’re applying deodorant at stoplights. Even if you’re changing shirts in the back of taxis while drivers judge your life choices.
The art of looking put-together quickly isn’t about perfection—it’s about looking intentional in your choices, even when those choices were made in a sleep-deprived panic. Master that, and you’ll never look rushed again, even when you absolutely, definitely are.
