Inside of Timothée Chalamet, there are two wolves: one is stylish and the other one is silly. You can divide nearly everything Chalamet does into one of those two camps.
For instance, most of the stuff that Chalamet has worn during his extended stay in New York falls into the semi-stylish camp, at least. Sure, we sometimes have to grade on a curve, given Chalamet's proclivity to indulge in silly clothes, but we give him props when possible.
And silliness is Chalamet's brand, after all: did I mention that Chalamet and Adam Sandler recently hooped together wearing their own baggy shorts? Timmy's were Supreme, natch.
Anyways, on July 26, Timothée Chalamet braved the boiling New York heat in an Aaron Judge-emblazoned Yankees jersey, impressively slim jeans (given the heat), some semi-cat-eye sunglasses, and a pair of collaborative Wales Bonner adidas Sambas.
Nice sneakers! Not quite as exciting as Bonner's eminently customizable metallic silver shoes but Chalamet's slowly proving himself to be quite the quiet sneakerhead as of late, though we already knew he was a fan of Bonner's Sambas.
Chalamet then almost immediately proved that, for every example of good taste, there is an equal but opposite act of silliness.
Despite his inarguable outfit, Chalamet made the questionable choice to stop by a 99-cent pizza place for a quick bite.
Now, like so many other people who live in this unbearably expensive city, I'm a budget-conscious transplant. But even I know that you always avoid the ultra-cheap places and instead source slices from one of the billion or so proper pizza places across NYC.
I'm no pizza snob, it's just a matter of getting your money's worth. It it ain't Two Bros., it ain't worth wasting your dollar bill.
No hate to the affordable pie-slingers, either, just something that was drilled into me when I first moved here (by being ruthlessly mocked by the dyed-in-the-wool New Yawkers, no less).
If I've learned anything from the people from New York, it's that pizza may as well be a religion. Eating the wrong type of pizza from the wrong place is tantamount to heresy. Every slice is sacred.
So, as a native New Yorker, you'd think that Timothée Chalamet would be a bit choosier with his pizza.
We love a frugal king, admittedly, and I can always appreciate a wealthy celebrity who stoops to the level of the proles by indulging in normal indulgencies.
But of all the Chalamet silliness we've endured over the years, from the Met Gala sweats to the awkward BBQ swaying, this pizza selection may be the most difficult to defend.
