The historic, triangle-shaped downtown corner of cobblestone streets, loft warehouses, and industrial brick buildings was once known as the “butter and egg” district, which its many loading dock overhangs recall. Struggling artists eventually gentrified the neighborhood, and those avant-garde roots—home to architects, actors, and photographers—have long inspired Ralph.

Trad tweaked for the individual character.

With big windows, cast-iron facades, and the grid of fire escapes, it’s long been its own exotic island within Manhattan. Artists, like Bob Thompson (above), flocked here when the rent for a cold water flat was cheap, and studio space was large and full of light. In Polo, it’s where workwear meets refined tailoring, with a few splatters of paint.

Workpieces—denim, leather—paired with refined statement pieces.

A warren of tree-lined streets and turn-of-the-century town houses whose bars and restaurants were once the haunts of great jazz musicians, poets, and literary journalists. The West Village has ever since been an embodiment of genteel bohemianism, a place where clothes worn in college get mixed in with a more grown-up wardrobe.

Tailored tweed meets collegiate keepsakes.

Awnings, doormen, and the tranquility of uptown life, just around the corner from Central Park. It’s the place to dress in a way that honors the mood of the architecture—handsome, well-appointed, stately—in other words, a beautifully tailored suit and tie, or, if you’re Ralph, a tweed jacket, pair of jeans, and cowboy boots. If you live in a neighborhood like this, you can be whoever you want.

Classic pieces paired in subtly unexpected ways.