Tag: Fashion

Your Inner Child Knows Best

There’s a slippery slope that happens in this life, and it doesn’t end unless you find yourself chasing the garbage man down the alley in nothing but your Buzz Lightyear boxers and a beltless bathrobe.  You might do this ‘cause it’s important; that trash is going to smell like dead hobbits the day after tomorrow.  And you may even rationalize it by saying, “That trash is going to smell like dead hobbits the day after tomorrow.”  But, you still know you’ve just stepped through the looking glass.  What was once an intimate detail, known only to your mother and a few significant others, is now available to the general viewing public.  More importantly, you hope none of your neighbours caught your Batman imitation on their cell phones.

We don’t all end up on Pinterest as “Meanwhile at WalMart” memes — but we could.  There’s a charming little voice in everybody’s inner adult that whispers “What the hell?  It’s only the Drive-thru.  This shirt’s good enough.”  So we grab the keys instead of listening to our inner child, who would scold us into, at the very least, changing our underwear.  (I was nearly 10 before I realized clean underwear didn’t actually prevent traffic accidents.)  It’s that same voice that urges us to wear pink with plaid and refuses to part with the UCLA T-shirt that was printed when Zorro was a boy.  We all have it.  Our parents warned us about it, but all of us still listen.  Bad mistake!

Back in the day, mostly mom (and sometimes dad) taught us that going out in public was a sacred trust.  People were looking at us, and we needed to show some respect.  Neat was important, but clean was essential.  As we got older, that sage bit of advice translated into sex, straight up and down.  You need to look your best because nobody is going to sleep with a slob.  Unfortunately, adulthood and cohabitation dulls the echoes of our parents, and more and more we end up relying on our own resources.

At first, it’s okay.  We dress for work, go out with our friends, flirt with the cashiers at the grocery store and leave our private face at home where it belongs.  However, eventually, those sweatpants are just too damn comfy not to get trotted out to mow the lawn.  But that’s okay too: we’re in our own yard, they’re clean, and they still kinda fit in the crotch.  Besides, they cover up that extra 10 lbs that’s been hanging around all summer.  Oops!  This is where it gets problematical.

As we get older, we tend to spread in all directions.  Clothes just aren’t as friendly as they were back when we were twenty.  And this is when our inner adult comes calling.  “Hey, buddy!  You’re a grown man.  You pay taxes.  You have a mortgage and a Mercedes.  You haven’t eaten liver or lima beans in 12 years!  If you want to wear socks with sandals, screw the hippie who says you can’t!”  And we listen.  But the socks with sandals (or your personal equivalent) are just the thin edge of the wedge.  Pretty soon, it’s only work, weddings and funerals that get a tie.  Family functions are all informal, and those sweatpants that kinda fit – question mark — have migrated from the back yard to the shopping mall.  It’s unavoidable.

The thing to remember, if you don’t want to end up dressing like Robin Williams in The Fisher King, is that your inner adult is a spoiled brat.  He thinks that whatever he says goes, and he pouts if he doesn’t get his own way.  You’re far better off to listen to your common-sense child, who’s very aware of what not to wear.  The parents explained it to him.

My point is that, as we get older, we all dress for comfort, not for speed, but you don’t get any points for running amok.  Therefore, it’s best to cool your jets or you’ll end up as the Flying Dutchman of the Internet, repinned and reposted as The Old Man in the Leopard-skin Leotard.

Women Get Stuff

I am painfully aware that writing about gender in these troubled times is like being the goalie on a javelin team, but I’m going to do it anyway.  Stereotypes be damned!  The truth has to be told: women get way more cool stuff than men.  Yes, I realize there’s the whole punitive underwear problem and, beyond Barbie, toys for girls generally suck. But look around you: women have tons more fun with life than men do.  Why?  ‘Cause they get all the good stuff.  Here’s a selection of evidence to prove it.

Sleeves — Women get more sleeves than men.  There are bell sleeves, cap sleeves, raglan sleeves, lily-point sleeves, bishop sleeves etc., etc., etc.  In fact, according to one source, there are over 40 different sleeves available to women.  And what do men get?  Long sleeves and short sleeves!

Hats — Put a hat — any hat — on a woman and you’ve got instant sexy.  Put a hat on a man, and unless his name is Indiana Jones, Humphrey Bogart or Che Guevara, you’ve got a candidate for Geek Of The Week.

Colours — Women get all the colours.  Men get several shades of mud.  Don’t believe me?  How many men do you know who are climbing the corporate ladder in a 3-piece, electric-blue hounds-tooth suit with ruby red shoes and matching belt?

Hair — Even Stephen Hawking can’t calculate the infinity plus one number of things women can do with their hair.  Meanwhile, on the other side of the chromosome patch, men have the faux hawk, the man bun and bald.

Shoes — I’m not even going to touch this one.

Stories — See a well-dressed woman dining alone in an expensive restaurant and there’s an elaborate story there somewhere.  See a well-dressed man dining alone in an expensive restaurant and … he just got dumped … like, 20 minutes ago.

And finally:

Girl’s Night Out — Girl’s Night can range from a drunken pub crawl through the streets of Maribor, Slovenia — where someone ends up with her panties in her purse — to Ramen Noodle Night with sweatpants, jasmine tea and vintage Ryan Gosling videos.  On the other hand, since the beginning of time, Boy’s Night has always involved a game, junk food, alcohol and the eruption of various bodily gases.

I rest my case!

Sexy!

Summer isn’t over yet, but it’s so close I can smell the leaves thinking about dropping off the trees.  Yahoo!   So, it’s time to get serious again ’cause serious is the new sexy.  (Well — not really — but smart guys can dream.)  Anyway, sexy is that elusive quality that some people have and most people want.  Personally, I think it’s hidden away in our DNA somewhere, just screaming to get out.  Unfortunately, most of us are kinda deaf.  Fortunately, though, after years of research, I’ve come up with a few clothing ideas guaranteed to transform the inner dork we all possess into the sensual creature we all want to be.  So forget leather and lace, folks: here’s what you need to look sexy — and if ya look sexy, you’re gonna feel sexy — and if ya feel sexy, trust me, that’s all ya need.

Boots — A gentlemen might wear Oxford brogues, but bad boys wear boots.

Slingback heels — Leave the stilettos in the closet, girls; they’re overkill.  Sexy is subtle.  All you need is enough heel to make that light, crisp click when you walk — ’cause that tells the world you’re female.

Gloves — I don’t even have to explain this one.

Matching underwear — Nobody knows but you, and there’s nothing sexier than secrets.

An Armani suit — Women look at Armani the way men look at lingerie.

Tight White T-shirts — This inexpensive little item transcends gender.  Keep it tight, keep it electric white, and — whatever you do — don’t go nuts with the neckline.

Levis — Like the t-shirt, levis don’t care if you’re male or female, but when they’re worn properly, even the casual observer should be able to tell the difference — from a distance.

A Hat — Ladies only.  Unfortunately, most men have no idea how to wear a hat properly, and they usually end up looking like somebody’s Uncle Ernie.  On the other hand, give a woman — any woman — a hat and she’s suddenly more sophisticated — and a helluva lot more fun.

But the sexiest thing on the planet is:

Sunglasses — If the eyes are the windows of the soul, sunglasses make everyone mysterious — the central ingredient in sexy.  Sunglasses are made for spies, movie stars and fighter pilots.  But the weird thing is you don’t even have to wear sunglasses to be sexy.  Just put them in your hair, hang them from your shirt or, hell, even hold them in your hand.  Take them off with one hand, put them on with two, twist them, twirl them, chew on their ends.  Even the simple gesture of tilting them down to peek over the top is worth two Don Juans and a Mata Hari.  Total sex!  The fact is, sunglasses are so sexy they ought to be “adults only.”