As a 22 year old, 5"11 (and seven eighths),ten-ish stone white kid who works in IT, I know what it takes to be cool. I felt an overbearing responsibility to quit hogging those sweet vibes and type up a handy guide to teach you other subculture mentors how to be like me. We'll cover the basics in this, whilst also throwing in some tips for the virtuoso of urbane.
Let's start with one of the more strident aspects of being a sweet dude.
If anyone is going to take you seriously in this world, you need an assortment of fine monikers in which to go by. For work and other formal purposes, I'd strongly suggest using a first initial with a suffix of 'scrilla' or 'money'. This way the executives will know that not only do you bring some inexorable swagger to the office, but that you're also very much about putting food on the corporate table. "Jenny got promoted? Who the fuck is Jenny? All I know is that J-Scrilla just aced the Fisher account and now has her own private stationary set".
Applying your nickname to your e-mail signature is mandatory and simply cannot be argued. If you don't work in an office environment, a thoughtful compromise would be to get a tattoo of your sobriquet either across your forehead (a real artist will have that looking like a second set of eyebrows) or around your neck, so that it would appear to be a wonderful necklace.
Outside of work, a less formal nickname should be adopted. This will allow you to separate work from chilling with the lads, sipping some brewskis and listening to those sweet riffs of Scouting For Girls. Perhaps something with '3000' on the end or starting with 'Sir'. The rest of the title is completely up to you, champ; don't feel restricted as you can afford to play around with this one a bit. A personal favourite of mine which I've heard recently was: Dr ShagALot - absolute legend! Chicks knew what this handsome pie was all about instantly and boy oh boy did they want a slice!
Listen up sweetdicks because this one is crucial. If you haven't got the look to match your rad nicknames, then you're just a wannabe. Walking down the stairs? Get a life grandma! Slide down that handrail like your finest Pet Shop Boy! Providing you're a commuter and ride the iron horse to work, ensure you're pressing the 'open' button as quickly as possible so that everyone on the carriage is aware there's an erudite passenger on board and boy do they know how to open an electronic door. Movement and agility are key.
Ladies - a fake Von Dutch cap is a great place to start. Should you happen to own anything with pictures of cats on it, you simply must wear it. Cats are to the 2010's what LSD was to the 1960's; fucking weird and having a stronger impact on the world than expected. Large hooped earrings (large enough for most sport balls to fit through) are generally encouraged.
Gents - same for the ladies in terms of headgear, but wear it backwards. You can save crucial beer money here by buying a front facing cap and spinning it backwards; don't be conned into this overpriced 'backwards' cap nonsense. A fresh Ralph Lauren top looks absolutely dynamite with cargo shorts. Reference how much you drank last night in orotund decibels and then listen to knickers hitting the floor.
Only the coolest cats listen to music. However, some losers might not be aware you're listening to tunes for radical ears only. Tear those headphones out and let the world hear your pleasures, baby! Some of the best days of my life were spent listening to other people play chart hits quite loudly out of their phone, whilst sitting on the bus to school. Of course, there's cool to be found in every genre. Some of you players out there are a little more alternative and that's absolutely fine. If I had a penny for every time I heard "Hey Susan, crank that Creed UP" in a KFC queue, I'd have roughly six quid and that - ladies and gentlemen - is enough for most meals at KFC.
Protip: singing to yourself whilst walking down an autumnal street is the only way to walk. It was only a few weeks ago that I was trotting down Lombard street looking melancholy and with intent. Sure, I could have just been any guy down on his luck. Strangers saw me and wished that I was no longer a stranger, but a friend or a lover. They saw me whispering those brooding notes to myself; a poet trying to gather up his words and put them back into his soul. "I walk these empty street, on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams" that's fucking deep, bro.
This is possibly the most key - yet concise - point on our journey. The most revered appellation amongst your peers is 'Banter King/Queen'. If you hold that, then the world is yours. Everyone wants to hang with someone who has a cornucopia of camaraderie. The most rudimentary bants are generally the best. As a rule of thumb, 'your mum/dad' is a wicked retort and one you should have in your back pocket at all times (bit like my hand in your mum's pocket, oi oi!).
Some people can mistake your charm for a truculent show; not everyone understands banter unfortunately. Take time out of your swagalicious schedule to calmly explain that "it's just banter mate" and they'll simmer down almost immediately. Fist bumps all round.