The one with the Texas tuxedo.

Editor’s note: In the late 2000s, John Korpics was the creative director at Fortune. He lived with his wife and kids way the hell up in Westchester County. Given his long commute, and being the industrious type, he decided to put that dreadful time to use. This column is what he came up with.

I wear a suit most days, and a tie some. Its not really a preference, more of a tool. In the course of a normal day I may have 5 or 6 meetings: sometimes with my boss, sometimes with my boss’s boss, sometimes with vendors or ad execs, and sometimes with my staff. All of the big shots tend to wear suits, so I play that game. All of the little shots wear whatever they effing want, but when I have to be a boss (which sometimes means being a dick), I respect them enough to dress like one. (A boss, not a dick).

Also, when you boil it all down, I am a commodity. Like a racehorse or a car or a watch. I’m a commodity that somebody spent a decent amount of money on. And when somebody spends a decent amount of money on something, and they have to look at it every day, they usually want to feel good about their investment. Sure, my car runs well, and the blinkers work, but I also want it to look good when I toss the keys to the valet. So for all of these reasons, I wear a suit.

Now on an average commute, I’d say about a quarter of the people on the train are wearing suits. If you’re on an early peaker, the ratio goes up to maybe half. So I see alot of effing suits.

Old, new, cheap, expensive, too tight, too long, ill-fitting, bad-ass, pin-striped, peak-lapeled, glen plaid, three-button, two-button, unbuttoned, missing buttons, out-of-style, over-styled, had-it-since-college, should-only-be-worn-to-a-funeral, brown, blue, black, seersucker, cotton, wool, chino, Prada (for the young guns), Polo (for the grownups), and Brooks Brothers (for the lemmings).

You name it, I’ve seen it.

But there is one suit that I rarely see. A suit so unique that I sometimes go months or even years without a sighting. And then, when I’ve almost completely forgotten about its existence, I catch a flash of blue out of the corner of my eye as I ascend the stairs and out of the station.

There it is, in all it's denim magnificence: The Jean Suit.

A dude in a Jean Suit is a dude who is saying “Eff you” to the suits of the world: “I will not be a slave to your fashion laws, your shackles of style. I will go my own way.” The way of the Levi. The way of the Wrangler.

A dude in a Jean Suit lives life as a free man. He wakes up and says, “Today I will wear my jeans, because they are comfortable and I enjoy them.” And then, without even the slightest hesitation, he says, “And I will also wear my denim jacket, because, it too is comfortable.”

And then finally, just because he knows he can, he throws a metrosexual leather satchel over his shoulder and strides confidently out the door. Point, set, and match.

Walk on, Jean Suit man. Walk on.

ORIGINALLY POSTED ON THURSDAY, 29 OCTOBER 2009 © JOHN KORPICS

John Korpics is VP/Executive Creative Director at Harvard Business Review. He has served as the design lead at Entertainment Weekly, Esquire, ESPN, Fortune, InStyle, and many other major newsstand magazines. His current commute is much effing easier.

Jason Schneider is a beloved Toronto-based editorial illustrator.