As you reach a certain point in life, you have to start taking responsibility for yourself. You have to take a hard look at your life and decide what is and is not your fault.
It really isn’t my fault, for instance, that I have no taste in clothes. I’m a product of my genetics and upbringing. I was born in the 1960s, brought into a wood-paneled world of Darren Stevens-inspired casual wear. That alone has to have left its mark on me at a genetic level, but it also means that I came of age in the 1970s. A year or so ago, I was watching a 25th Anniversary retrospective of musicians who had appeared on Saturday Night Live over the years. One look at Billy Joel wearing an unbuttoned vest, loosened tie and rolled-up sleeves brought me right back to my style as a 15 year-old.
“Wow,” I said out loud, to nobody in particular, “how cool is he?!”
Over the years, I have worked in a lot of professions, particularly writing and teaching, neither of which is particularly well known for its snappy dressing, so I can probably be excused for having the fashion sense of an aardvark.
On the other hand, it probably was my fault for waiting until an hour before I had to be at an awards banquet to go shopping for something to wear to it.
Because I was in a hurry, I had to go to someplace I both like and hate myself for liking – the mall., I entered the mall through one of the major department stores. I went right to the mensware section, but was unable to find a decent jacket. Because I am built roughly along the lines of a walrus, each one I tried on made me look like I was wearing a sausage casing. Going the route of a traditional blue blazer was an even bigger mistake that I’m not quite ready to talk about yet.
I did find a couple of nice ties, however and as I made my way out of the department store, I removed the one I had been wearing and put on a sharp, new, blue tie as I walked. I remember feeling pretty spiffy as I walked into a store devoted to upscale men’s clothing.
Say what you will about Threads For Gentlemen, as I’ll call this particular store, but they do some things extremely well. Yes, their clothes are expensive. Yes, they sneer at people like me and sneer hard, but you have to give them credit where credit is due; they have a great division of labor. The job of actually measuring you and setting you up with a suit is done by a middle-aged guy who lets you know in a dozen unspoken ways that although he himself is around 50, he’s been doing this for at least 70 years. At the same time, the leggy salesgirl who looks like Lucy Liu has the job of waiting until you’re being taken care of, then asking if you’re being taken care of. When you tell her you are, she sighs as if this is one of the bigger tragedies in her brief life – being denied a chance to work with someone like you. Later on, when you’ve more or less settled on a purchase, she has the additional job of walking by and nodding approvingly at you. This makes people like me spend money. Lots and lots of money.
On this particular occasion, however, I really needed to focus on shopping, so I reluctantly gave my attention to the guy measuring my inseam. (Yes, I know that doesn’t actually get measured for a sports coat, but it sounds better than “armpit”.)
“Hmmmm…,” my salesguy said thoughtfully, “try this one and this one and… yes, this one.” He handed me three jackets.
The third one was perfect. Even I could see that it had quiet taste and actually suited me. Like a badly transplanted organ, it would probably reject a guy like me in short order, but for now, I really liked it. I told the salesman so and he seemed pleased – pleased enough to broach the next topic.
“Now,” he said sternly but kindly, looking over my trousers, “do you own any trousers?”
I assured him that I did and that furthermore, I was planning to wear these very trousers to the awards banquet I was on my way to. A pained expression flitted briefly across his face, but he covered well.
“Well, at the very least, let’s get you a decent tie!”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the tie I was wearing was only ten minutes old, so I ended up spending $45 on another new tie. I have to admit that it is probably the nicest tie I’ve ever owned. I’m reasonably sure, though, that it is sitting in my closet right now making escape plans with the sports coat.
I paid for my purchases and rushed to my awards dinner, where I’m proud to say I was one of the best-dressed men there. Unfortunately, as it was a banquet for teachers, that doesn’t say much. I got puzzled looks from some of my fellow educators as I walked by in my new sports coat, as if to say, “Who does he think he is?”
