I dislike all clothes in all clothing stores I ever go to. Nothing ever looks good, and I have no sense of how things go together. I only look good in the colors: black, dark blue, and oddly, chartreuse. BT-dub, what's the deal with black linen pants? I mean seriously, pants are made out of linen so they're lightweight and breezy, so why would you dye them the hottest, most heat-absorbing color in existence? That's just dumb.
I have a weird frame, a good frame, for shirts (if they fit well); a really fantastic frame that houses a brilliant mind and a lovely set of teeth, but none of that matters to the clothing industry. I have a few shirts that fit me pretty well, but I have one shirt that fits me perfectly. I mean, seriously, it's like it was custom-made for me. I bought it when I was in middle school for a formal dance. It still fits, in fact, I wore it to work yesterday. It's not the best-looking shirt, but it just fits so damn well. I've never in my life found another shirt like it--and I've spent a lot of money searching. Brooks Brothers' shirts don't fit me this well, in fact, those fit me really horribly.
But this isn't constructive, not really at all. I guess I'm just frustrated. Frustrated by black linen pants, and shirts that don't fit well, and pants that tent up when I sit down at meetings. What I want is a good fit without a leopard print, I want a plain black shirt that doesn't look like something I bought at a maternity store. I want H&M to carry clothes that don't look like they're about to fall apart on the rack, I want Diesel to stop going crazy with the stitching, I want The Gap to grow a personality, I want Urban Outfitters to stop being so "indie precious," and I want Dov Charney to shave that stupid mustache.
This is my clothing manifesto. This is the moment when I start wearing jumpsuits everywhere (because you can do anything in a jump suit). Today I vow to be clean, not pretty; to be honest, and not wear superfluous zippers; to be sardonic without being sartorial. Welcome to the first day of the rest of my life, without matching socks.
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I find the stratification between a single guy on the town and a married man interesting. Now, in the animal world, a puma (example animal) would most likely groom itself and do everything it can in order to attract a mate. Translation in the human world; dressing nice, perhaps shaving, and getting regular haircuts.
Now, being that I'm married, I have slowly watched my aesthetic world (deep, I know) slowly drop off the radar. I don't know when the last time I bought a cool shirt or nice shoes for myself (not work related), instead relying on what I had pre-marriage and on hand-me-down Marathon shirts from my parents. Granted, I still look damn sharp in my suits for work, but off the clock, I have to let my personality do the charming (versus looks). Luckily, charming the wife is not really a challenge.
Second perk to hand-me-down shirts from Marathons and Triathlons: everyone thinks that I am the one who ran/swam/biked in them. Damn I'm good.
-Robert
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