The Wire is legendary in its unanimous acclaim. A maddeningly accurate portrayal of #realshit, the show resonated with those who’d lived its stories on the street and in the bureaus and even more so with corny white people who were happy to shout about the injustice of modern America, as long as it was nowhere near where they lived. The fact that David Simon’s creation is part in the dominant conversation years later, still the benchmark by which serious dramas are held, is a testament. And a deserving one, not like Twin Peaks, which people pretend to still care about so other people will think they’re cool.

But this is a clothing site, man! And though, given the seriousness of the subject matter, clothing was never a major plot point in The Wire, the show serves as a legitimate stylistic time capsule for the mid-2000s. From those who lived, worked and died in the streets, to the various hierarchies of law enforcement, to the drug lords and their equally shady political counterparts, The Wire covered more clothing than we could thoroughly break down regardless of the cultural connotations attached to each.

So, to enjoy this piece, I’m going to need you to just drop all the socioeconomic baggage the show carries with it and try to focus on the gear itself. This shit was all pre-Barack anyway—racial inequality, poverty, corruption and drug use have all totally since been eradicated. We’re all absolutely free to laugh at the prevalence of Gorilla Unit attire on the corners of Baltimore.

The second key to enjoying this post is to let go of your favorite character, or at least not whine about it when you finish up and find out there’s no Slim Charles or Butchie. Everybody has their favorites, but most of them accurately represented the general boringness of American style. I’m not going to waste your time with Brother Mouzone’s contrived get-up, either. Remember, only #realshit.

Angelo Spagnolo is a writer living in Portland, Oregon. Read his blog here and follow him on Twitter here.