"I wear the same outfit or, at least, a different copy of it almost every day"

The remark signals a deliberate choice to systematize the trivial in service of the essential. Clothing becomes a solved problem, a parameter fixed so that cognitive bandwidth can be allocated to product decisions, relationships, and long-horizon thinking. Psychologists call it decision fatigue: the more small choices you make, the less willpower remains for consequential ones. By standardizing attire, he reduces friction, preserves attention, and enacts a daily ritual that cues a working mindset.

It also functions as a personal uniform, conflating identity with consistency. A gray T‑shirt and jeans, interchangeable, replaceable, turn the wearer into a stable interface: predictable inputs, predictable outputs. That uniformity echoes how scalable systems are built: minimize variance, automate routines, keep the hot path fast. The aesthetic is minimalism, but also message control. Opting out of fashion’s churn resists status games inside the office, nudging culture toward merit, speed, and clarity. Paradoxically, the refusal to perform style is itself a style, a public signal of priorities and power.

The phrase “a different copy” acknowledges hygiene and practicality; it’s not asceticism but replication. Multiple identical items reduce maintenance decisions while preserving comfort and fit. And “almost every day” retains flexibility: formal events, changing contexts, or symbolic moments may call for deviation. That caveat keeps the stance pragmatic rather than dogmatic.

Critics see privilege in the ability to ignore dress codes that constrain others, and they are not wrong. Uniforms can liberate or oppress depending on who chooses them. Yet the underlying intent, reduce noise, amplify focus, remains accessible in other domains: templated schedules, default meals, automated finances. The real claim is about stewardship of attention. Choose fewer, better defaults, and you free capacity for work that actually moves the world. Consistency in dress becomes a proxy for consistency in purpose: eliminate randomness at the edges to concentrate intent at the center.