 You might have
noticed that the Edition now has a
fashion columnist. And you should see the way this guy dresses. I have pants
envy of him. One day he came in with pants that ended four inches about his
shoe line-and he got away with it. He looked dynamite, like a dancer, like Gene
Kelly. If I tried that I'd look like a Beverly Hillbilly, though not quite as
good. Some people can do what they like in terms of pants, and fashion. I
can't.
Since I don't
wear suits to work, I have to make a fashion decision every morning and live
with it the rest of the day. The shirt I choose has to go right with my pants
or I'll feel like a dork-and there's no turning back. "Boss, can I go home and
change? I can't stand this ensemble"-that doesn't fly in the real world. I try
to wear what I call "universal" pants: pants of solid colors that go with
anything. So I have light and dark pants. These go with my light and dark
shirts. But not always.
Here's a
concrete example. Last week I wore a white polo shirt, but one of those smooth
ones, the ones without the breathing holes in them. You know, a cheap one. With
it I wore my (once tolerated, now despised) sky-blue dockers, which are about
an inch too short and simultaneously hug my hips and billow out at the sides.
Clown pants, of which I own more than anybody I know. Plus I wore blue socks
and brown shoes.
All right. My
strategy was to present a summery aspect, a light, festive image to cheer the
eye. Unfortunately, I had locked-in orange stains on both my pants (in the
embarrassing crotch area) and my shirt, stains that I couldn't see in the dull
light of my bedroom but that jumped out in the fluorescent lighting here in the
office. They looked like Gerber's stains, situated in places where an infant
would drool, and the pastel nature of my clothes made me look even more like a
large baby. My stomach hangs over my waist a little, too, so all in all I felt
like the biggest schmuck in the building. I could hardly wait to go home and
peel that crap off.
I've worn a
pumpkin-colored polo shirt with purple dockers, as well, which looks seriously
bad, but I only made that mistake once. Usually my color coordination is mediocre,
not humiliating. It's the aforementioned weird stains that derange me. I get
key stains: little marks showing through my pockets made from the pointy ends
of my keys. I have to keep rubbing my pockets with a gum eraser to get rid of
them, which makes me appear to be engaged in disgusting antics from the rear.
Of course, this only concerns me with my light pants. My dark pants just have
fade marks (from my wallet, in the hip pocket) and a mysterious, overall fading
in the zipper area. All my pants somehow make me look like a degenerate. The
only good thing about them is the belt, which I've worn every day for fifteen
years. It's so supple and worn it feels like string licorice when I pull it
off.
I'm happy,
though, that summer is nearing its end so I don't have to worry about shorts
anymore. My shorts problem makes my pants problem look like a day at the beach.
I've got running shorts, but I'm not about to wear them around town like a
Californian, carrying my wallet in my hands. I do have a shred of dignity left.
But my walking-around shorts, which have plenty of storage space in them, are
the wrong length, ending mid-thigh, when I guess they're supposed to end just
above the knee. I pull them down so they're lower on my legs, but then they're
low-riding my butt, a look I'm not going to adopt. They also climb up the
insides of my thighs at a 45 degree angle, the ultimate loser effect. I
generally don't wear these shorts unless I don't care if I look stupid, but if
someone I knew caught me wearing them I'd still feel the need to explain and
apologize. No, they probably don't care one way or the other about how much of
a dink I appear in my shorts, but why take a chance? I've got to let them know
that I know, that I'm self-aware about this thing. I'd explain about my big
feet, too, and everything else, right on up to the top of my head. No one's
going to catch me with my pants down!
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Quirkee Voices 
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