The night uniform

Nobody plans a night uniform. It builds itself, one late shift at a time, out of the things that still work at two in the morning.

Start with the layer you never take off

An overshirt in heavyweight twill does the work of a jacket on most nights. It takes a drizzle, it has pockets you can find without looking, and it still looks right when you walk into a bar.

Then the crew underneath

A 14-ounce cotton crew holds its shape after the hundredth wash. Black, gray or bone: pick one and buy two.

Finish on the ground

The street decides the shoe. A welted boot with a rubber sole grips a wet platform and can be resoled when the city has worn it down.

That's the uniform: three pieces, nothing you have to think about, everything you need until the last train home.