Healthy Weekend: Saturday Night

 

Marshall, a creature of comfort, usually reserved his turtlenecks for weekend mornings spent in his armchair with a good book. But this Saturday, something stirred within him – a yearning for the buzz of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the low hum of a city night. So, he dug out his favorite cream turtleneck sweater, the one with the cashmere softness that felt like a hug, and paired it with his brown corduroy jeans, suede coat and his Converse chucks.

The bar, a dimly lit haven with mismatched armchairs and exposed brick walls, was just getting busy. "Good evening," the bartender, a woman with eyes the color of aged whiskey, greeted him. "What can I get you?"

Marshall scanned the cocktail menu, the usual suspects tempting him with their boozy promises. But tonight, he craved something different. "I'll have something non-alcoholic, if you don't mind."

The bartender's eyebrow quirked, but she grinned, pouring a vibrant concoction of muddled berries, fresh ginger, and sparkling orange juice into a glass. The aroma, a tangy mix of fruit and spice, was intoxicating in its own right.

As Marshall sipped his mocktail, a warmth spread through him, not from the ginger (though it did have a pleasant kick), but from the simple act of being there. He eavesdropped on snippets of conversations, watched the play of light and shadow on the faces around him, and felt a sense of belonging he hadn't realized he craved.

A woman with laughter lines around her eyes and a mane of silver hair caught his eye. She was sharing a story with her friends, her hands animated, her voice a melody. Marshall couldn't help but smile. He raised his glass in a silent toast, a toast to the city that never sleeps, to the strangers who become companions for an evening, and to the unexpected joys of a Saturday night spent in a turtleneck.

The night unfolded like a jazz improvisation, notes of conversation blending with the murmur of the crowd. Marshall found himself drawn into a debate about the merits of classic cinema, then regaling a group of college students with tales of his travels. He learned about a hidden bookstore tucked away in a forgotten alley, a new band playing at a dimly lit club downtown, and the best place to get a slice of pizza at 3 am.

As the clock struck midnight, Marshall knew it was time to go. He drained the last of his second mocktail, the tangy sweetness lingering on his tongue like a memory. He thanked the bartender, her smile genuine, and stepped back into the cool night air.

The city lights sparkled like fallen stars, casting long shadows on the cobblestone streets. Marshall walked, his boots clicking a rhythmic counterpoint to the city's heartbeat. He wasn't sure what he'd found tonight, but it was something precious, a sliver of magic woven from laughter, connection, and the unexpected delight of a non-alcoholic cocktail. And as he pulled his turtleneck closer, the city's warmth seeping into his bones, he knew he would wear it again, not just on Sunday mornings, but on any night he craved a taste of the extraordinary.

This is a fictional story inspired by where you can wear this men's style.

Model: Marshall (he/him/his) @marshall_531

Photos: Alan Rust (he/him/his) @alanrrust

He is wearing his own jacket and Converse. The turtleneck sweater and corduroy jeans are from H&M.