Not many men can wear purple. Even fewer can rock ruffles. 

No mortal can pull off a pearl-studded paisley suit with pink feathers — unless, of course, that alleged mortal is Prince.

It’s not that Prince was the first pop star to dress outrageously. The ’70s set the sartorial bar pretty high with glam rock, Elton and Cher. He had plenty of company in the ’80s, when hair was hair and eye makeup was bigger. 

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The thing about Prince was that the clothes were, somehow, an afterthought. Prince was a spectacle, of course, but unlike his peers and his desperate-to-be-peers, he was a thoroughly natural spectacle. No matter how complicated the costume, the first thing you noticed and the thing you remembered was very, very simple: The guy looked good.

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Call it je ne sais quoi, call it swagger, call it whatever you want — Prince had it and had it to spare. At a wispy 5’2,” he was the kind of sexy that only comes around once in awhile, the kind of sexy that everyone just accepts on the spot and works into their definition of the word. It’s not often that suburban moms lust after a man in a sequin cape, but then again, it’s not often that a Prince comes around.

There was something otherworldly about Prince, something that makes it hard to believe he was here in the first place — and even harder to believe that he’s gone. 

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