Playful | the Raspberry cufflinks

The first are vandals.

The second are people like Theo.

He arrived 43 minutes late, wearing a blazer that may or may not have been corduroy, and a shirt that definitely wasn’t ironed. His Raspberry cufflinks were loud in the quiet way—the way a good punchline is louder than applause.

He didn’t RSVP. He brought a plus-one anyway. (The plus-one was his neighbor’s whippet, Archie, wearing a silk scarf.)

Within minutes, Theo was giving an impromptu critique of the lighting (“a bit prison-yard, no?”), organizing a spontaneous limbo contest under the gallery's steel trusses, and drawing very convincing mustaches on the event's promotional posters. In Sharpie. The curator pretended to laugh. The interns actually did.

And when someone whispered, “Wait, is he the artist?” Theo turned, pointed to the nearest oversized installation—a minimalist wire cube titled Weight of Silence—and replied:

“Not that one. But I dated it.”

The Raspberry cufflinks glinted mid-smirk.

Around 10:45, an overly groomed man in head-to-toe beige asked him something he’d clearly Googled earlier: “Aren’t cufflinks a bit… formal these days?”

Theo, dipping a chip into the gallery hummus, didn’t miss a beat.

“Only if you’re boring.”

The man nodded solemnly, as if he understood. He didn’t.

But Theo didn’t need him to.

Playfulness doesn’t ask for approval. It turns the room sideways, just enough to notice something different. Something mischievous. Something fun. That’s what Theo wears. That’s who Theo is.