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Sunday, April 22

I'm sure most of you have a favorite shirt, or maybe two or three. No matter how many new clothes you buy, if you have an evening alone where only comfort matters, you shower and then get into that shirt like Flynn.

In my case I have a red Levi's chamois cloth longsleeve shirt that is both fashionable to wear out, say, under a black or denim jacket, and soft enough to the touch to serve as a pajama top for colder nights when a t-shirt just won't do. I love that shirt like Abraham loved his son Isaac. Together with my Spongebob pajama bottoms and Wigwam medium hiking socks, while I may look odd I am in comfort heaven.

Share your stories of your favorite clothes!

4 comments:

Anonymous said...: During some interview or other public commentary, the late night talk show host David Letterman once said something to the effect of, when ever you go any where, you should always look your best because you never know who your gonna meet. The idea being that opportunity could be hiding behind any corner and if you didn't have razor blade creases in your trousers, he might pass you by.

"Why are you combing your hair, we're just going to the gas station."

My brother Chris is four years older then me and at the time I was nineteen. He stood impatiently outside the down stairs bath room at my parent’s house, which sat in the outskirts of the sleepy suburb of Antelope, California. Doing my best both to ignore him and to focus all his attention on me, I put another gob of gel in my hands and gently smoothed it through my hair. In those days the unbridled optimism that made up my character brought me to the firm conclusion that it wasn't simply a possibility that opportunity would be waiting for me around some corner, but an absolute certainty. "Hey, look at that kid," they’d say, "he doesn't conform to the notion that kids his age must be slobs or slackers. Let’s give him a chance to make lots of money." Or in a scenario that I had fantasized about much more often, "Hey hansom. I can see past the hundred and fifty plus pounds of baby fat you’re carrying around enough to notice that you’re on the fast track for success. Let’s go some where and have sex." And so, whether I was going to say, a job interview or the local shell station, I didn't miss a chance to polish my shine. As it were, opportunity had not been waiting at that gas station but never the less I returned confident that I had taken the appropriate precautions.

This isn't an attitude that I had adapted over night. It was achieved over years of watching VHS tapes on the subject of etiquette. Long sleepless nights spent ironing the few dollars I had managed not to spend so that they felt crisp sliding into my back pocket. Working out elaborate plans for how I would invest my soon to be acquired wealth to make it last indefinitely. And by having my parents buy me cloths that would exentuate my adopted persona, the black trench coat and dark green umbrella by polo for example.

The day my mother agreed to leave Macy’s with that beautiful tribute to nobility, like a convict awaiting execution, I was born again. I went home and immediately tried it on. It was a perfect fit. I could button it over my waste and it wouldn't stain too much at my girth. The majestic cape like back of the coat, that was black as night, flowed down threatening to touch the floor but stopping short by at least have a ruler's length. Man, oh man did I look sharp. If the person standing opposite to me in the full length living room mirror had been any more attractive, I might have turned away from women and ravaged him myself.

Being dressed up and having no where to go didn't stop me either, I temped opportunity by walking to the local Food 4 Less and standing along the parking lot where the honey donuts was. I felt like a man who surely must be important or at the very least, exhibited all signs of being so. To my delight, it started to rain, and so I sprung my umbrella into action. It was magnificent. Not one of those spring loading numbers that some amateur might have, but a full size. It not only kept me dry but practically begged all around for their immediate attention. Unfortunately at nine o'clock at night, there weren’t enough people loitering in the nearly abandoned parking lot to notice. The rain dripped around me slightly but there wasn’t enough water to make an impressive enough display of it and so I stood under a pouring drain pipe. This helped provide the effect that not only did I desperately need the umbrella, but that I wasn’t gonna let a little thing like the month of October ruin my parade.

All these dress rehearsals, all the planning, everything was really for nothing. Deep down inside, I was not only a slacker but a slob. Evidence to the fact could be attained simply by observing my habits in regards to my education. My locker was a mess and my grades dragged below a two point o average. In the end I never even graduated from high school, a fact that broke my mother's heart. Then I did something that if you read the book 10 habits of a highly successful person, can be found on page number one. I got my girl friend pregnant and got married so that our child would be covered by my insurance plan.

Soon there after, I became wary of my wait for opportunity. My beard went unshaved. My shirts became haggard and full of holes, a fact I grew to become complacent about. And I started wearing shoes with no socks. I'm not entirely sure but I'm almost positive that there's a chapter in the etiquette videos about not wearing socks with shoes. The lesson to be learned was not to do that.

A few years later after my Mom and my wife had decided that they hate each other enough to cause a scene, a contrast to that polite hatred that I can live with, I moved out. From time to time, usually with laundry and an empty stomach in tow, I will go back to my parent's house. On one such trip, my brother took a look at me, shirt dirty and full of holes, bare footed, and face covered in unsightly hair.

"What happened to my brother," he said.

"What do you mean," I asked. I had had this conversation already many times. It was the one where someone in my family took notice of me, as if for the first time since child hood and was shocked by what they saw. Frankly I had accepted it as a normal part of my relationship with my family.

"I remember you once saying that you wouldn't even go to the gas station without dressing up because you never know who your gonna meet."

I just remained silent. I hadn’t said that. David Letterman had. And clearly, I am no one that important.

Joe Gats
www.teammangakitty.com; April 22, 2007
Hans said...: Good story! I lived in Palmdale and Lake Elizabeth years ago. I have to give you credit for TRYING anyway. Lots of people don't...I think maybe it's time though to improve - not to the extent of not being the real you, but get yourself together for YOU, Joe. I think you still care enough and I also think Letterman is right in a way. Everytime (which is rarely now) I go out looking like a slob, I run into someone I know...rule for me now is that I at least look in the mirror and comb my hair, wear reasonably nice clothes, put on sunglasses or makeup or at least wash my face, brush my teeth, and then "I" will feel good, to hell with the other people.

So my clothes story: I wear comfortable, clean clothes, nothing fancy ever. Always wear comfortable shoes! I also make sure I have a sweatshirt or jacket - I hate being cold. At home my favorite thing is to wear my jammies when I know I'm not going out again. I love miss-matched jammies even more. It's my way of not comforming to any rule on what I do at home. I just choose the most comfortable top and bottom for the temperature of the house (incuding socks)....have dinner, sit and read or watch a movie. No need to change for bedtime! Good subject for a blog.; April 22, 2007
Metamatician said...: I get the sense you're sort of an all-or-nothing person, Joe, which I can identify with because that's how I am. I think I've always been a "snappy" dresser however good or miserable I've felt inside. In a way, I've developed my own style of dressing and hairstyle as a way to boost my self-pride and make myself feel like something other than one of 6.5 billion people. But it's also given me false confidence which has gotten me into trouble. For example, when I was working and had more money, I bought fairly expensive clothing (nothing horrendously extravagant, but stuff like Claiborne and Banana Republic and Alfani), and always had a good sense of style in putting together outfits. I know this because I was often told I dressed very well. I stuck to earth tones and to greys, whites, blacks. Nothing too colorful on ME. I think maybe I looked more like a New Yorker or a Londoner than a Californian, but whatever, people at the office would tend to notice.

Now, who knows how much that played into things, because I also did my jobs well and spoke precisely and looked people in the eye and used their names in conversations. All the gentlemanly advice Dale Carnegie gives you in his book, which I read like the Bible as an older kid. I made the other person feel important, said what I thought sincerely but politely, didn't suck up to people but didn't belittle them, and so on. I also tried always to follow through on my promises and keep my word, which I had a little more difficulty with because I'm pretty scatterbrained over the long run (my mom says I'm an absent-minded professor). But in a meeting or one on one conversation, boy, I could impress.

I got promotions I probably shouldn't have gotten and made good money but also felt like a fraud and got in over my head work-wise. I had flings with officemates of one type or another, never quite "cheating" in the strictest sense, but definitely not putting up the best appearance of the wholesome family man. I worked myself into a character whom I felt I was only portraying at that point, rather than people genuine. At home I'd relax and be silly, wear comfy clothes, not shave on the weekends or worry about my hair (I've got a black baseball cap that's practically become my trademark outside of work.

In the end I ended up laid off as the company went under, going through some terrible depression, and finally having my family life fall apart, and now I'm living alone in an apartment without a job. My self-esteem is crap, and along with it, I've given up trying to look nice. If I just take a shower and brush my teeth I consider that I've done my grooming duty for that day. Usually I wear a beard, and my hair's gotten shoulder-length, which isn't bad on me but it needs cutting and styling. I've also put on weight because of lack of activity and some of the medications I'm on, so now I really don't think I'm the cat's meow. You can scan through the blog to see what I look like. I used to be very tall and thin. Now I'm tall and chubby.

I don't know that there's any moral to this story, I thought I'd just waste everyone's time who read it, lol. Seriously, though, I think Patty's advice is the best - don't dress and act a certain way to make yourself feel better and encourage opportunity; rather, find some way to honestly feel good about yourself in your heart and that will shine through regardless. You'll probably find you also take good care of yourself healthwise and fashionwise automatically at that point. But it won't be a coverup for being a lazy slob beneath it all. I've got a long way to go, but at least I *think* I know the road to begin on to get there.

Thanks for the responses, everyone.; April 23, 2007
Hans said...: Really a good conversation going on I think. It's like a group session on what to wear! It doesn't really matter, but don't look like you don't care about yourself. Bottom line. Good story meta and it's true that as we get older, things just fall into place....hopefully.; April 23, 2007

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