...not by what he wears, but by how he wears it. A language of instinct, of certainty, carried in the drape of a jacket, the quiet weight of a lapel, the ease of a step that does not hesitate. Those who understand it need no explanation. Those who don’t will never hear it.

There are no symbols, no desperate embellishments - only choices made with the clarity of a man who does not ask what is expected, but what is right.

A coat that moves like it belongs to him. Trousers that follow the rhythm of his stride.

Not a uniform, but a declaration.

Those who understand, feel it. Those who don’t, never will