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NEW Mr Vice Guy (PartyMesh™)
Regular price
$59.99
Meet PartyMesh™ — our new ultra-lightweight, breathable stretch fabric engineered to keep you cool from the first drink to the last.
Neon skylines, fast boats, seaplanes...The Mr. Vice Guy is a tribute to the glory days of coastal excess. Bold pink sunsets collide with electric blue waters, swaying palms, and retro luxury to create a shirt that doesn't just make an entrance...it arrives, Miami style.
Features Lightweight PartyMesh™ performance fabric Ultra-breathable and moisture-wicking Four-way stretch for all-day comfort Wrinkle-resistant and travel-ready Custom coconut buttons Tailored modern fit Exclusive retro coastal artwork featuring seaplanes, palms, and waterfront luxury
All items are shipped priority, so depending on where you live expect only 1-5 business days after shipping to receive your goods. Please allow for 1 additional business day for order processing.
Some items like our 'Relaxed Fit' hawaiians and custom items may take longer. Please refer to the product description for any notes on longer shipping times if applicable.
We are currently offering FREE shipping for orders $75 and over!
Buttery soft and light 4-way stretch For extreme comfort and social athleticism.
Anti-Wrinkle
The perfect adventure buddy.
It's the little things
Hand-crafted with front matching prints. A cut above the rest.
Real Coconut Buttons
Custom embossed coconut buttons for tropical authenticity.
Ceara Q.
I am now a walking 1980s music video, and I don't need a license for this.
Listen, some people want to grow up and be doctors. Others want to cure diseases. For my entire adult life, I have had only one singular, clear ambition: to be Crockett and Tubbs.
Yes. Both of them.
A hybrid. Sonny-Ricardo. James 'The Vice' Castillo-Smith. I wanted to wear a white linen blazer over a peach-colored t-shirt with no socks in the humid, cocaine-fueled fever dream of 1980s Miami coastal excess. I wanted my shadow to be made of neon pink and electric blue.
The primary obstacle to this dream (besides the fact that I am a law-abiding citizen living in [INSERT BORED SUBURBAN TOWN], and I don’t have a pet alligator) was the Ferrari Testarossa. Those things are, quite frankly, diggity dope. I want one so bad my white suit shakes. But since I can’t afford to drive a Ferrari Testarossa, this shirt is the closest I will ever get to wearing a Ferrari Testarossa.
I feel like I've just become the Testarossa. A Testarossa with seaplanes on it and custom coconut buttons.
The moment I buttoned up this "Mr. Vice Guy" masterpiece, I felt my personality split. I was simultaneously brooding (Crockett) and charming (Tubbs). I immediately checked into the nicest hotel my credit card could afford, ordered an espresso, and started looking for informants.
The graphics! They don’t just make an entrance; they arrive, Miami style. Neon skylines, swaying palms, retro luxury—I'm pretty sure my reflection is just a synth-pop bassline. The bold pink sunsets are so bright, they actually blinded an oncoming jogger. When I walk down the street, people automatically think I have information about illegal boat racing syndicates.
And let’s talk about the PartyMesh™. It’s ultra-lightweight. I think it’s made of captured sea breezes and the collective hopes of all the guys who tried to wear leather jackets in Miami in 1984. Moisture-wicking? Buddy, this shirt doesn't just wick moisture; it repels it. It’s like a forcefield of dryness. I sweat like a pig in this humidity, but in this shirt, I just look "investigative."
Four-way stretch for all-day comfort? Please. I can do a combat roll over a patio railing and then immediately smooth it out like nothing happened. The tailored modern fit makes me feel sleek, even though I've had three too many grouper nuggets. And it's wrinkle-resistant. Of course it is. Why would I want wrinkles when my life is a retro coastal vacation?
I walked into a bar yesterday, and a guy asked if I was looking for a contact. I told him I was just "casing the joint." I drank a mojito and then left without explanation, brooding the entire time. Later, I used my stretchy shirt to reach the top shelf in my pantry.
Five stars. This shirt hasn't just captured St. Pete; it’s captured the cop I always wanted to be. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go find a marina and stare intenseley at the water.
I am now a walking 1980s music video, and I don't need a license for this.
Listen, some people want to grow up and be doctors. Others want to cure diseases. For my entire adult life, I have had only one singular, clear ambition: to be Crockett and Tubbs.
Yes. Both of them.
A hybrid. Sonny-Ricardo. James 'The Vice' Castillo-Smith. I wanted to wear a white linen blazer over a peach-colored t-shirt with no socks in the humid, cocaine-fueled fever dream of 1980s Miami coastal excess. I wanted my shadow to be made of neon pink and electric blue.
The primary obstacle to this dream (besides the fact that I am a law-abiding citizen living in [INSERT BORED SUBURBAN TOWN], and I don’t have a pet alligator) was the Ferrari Testarossa. Those things are, quite frankly, diggity dope. I want one so bad my white suit shakes. But since I can’t afford to drive a Ferrari Testarossa, this shirt is the closest I will ever get to wearing a Ferrari Testarossa.
I feel like I've just become the Testarossa. A Testarossa with seaplanes on it and custom coconut buttons.
The moment I buttoned up this "Mr. Vice Guy" masterpiece, I felt my personality split. I was simultaneously brooding (Crockett) and charming (Tubbs). I immediately checked into the nicest hotel my credit card could afford, ordered an espresso, and started looking for informants.
The graphics! They don’t just make an entrance; they arrive, Miami style. Neon skylines, swaying palms, retro luxury—I'm pretty sure my reflection is just a synth-pop bassline. The bold pink sunsets are so bright, they actually blinded an oncoming jogger. When I walk down the street, people automatically think I have information about illegal boat racing syndicates.
And let’s talk about the PartyMesh™. It’s ultra-lightweight. I think it’s made of captured sea breezes and the collective hopes of all the guys who tried to wear leather jackets in Miami in 1984. Moisture-wicking? Buddy, this shirt doesn't just wick moisture; it repels it. It’s like a forcefield of dryness. I sweat like a pig in this humidity, but in this shirt, I just look "investigative."
Four-way stretch for all-day comfort? Please. I can do a combat roll over a patio railing and then immediately smooth it out like nothing happened. The tailored modern fit makes me feel sleek, even though I've had three too many grouper nuggets. And it's wrinkle-resistant. Of course it is. Why would I want wrinkles when my life is a retro coastal vacation?
I walked into a bar yesterday, and a guy asked if I was looking for a contact. I told him I was just "casing the joint." I drank a mojito and then left without explanation, brooding the entire time. Later, I used my stretchy shirt to reach the top shelf in my pantry.
Five stars. This shirt hasn't just captured St. Pete; it’s captured the cop I always wanted to be. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go find a marina and stare intenseley at the water.