clothes do not make the man. Well, maybe they do. Then again. I sure hope not.
I often wonder what the Fashion Police think of me. You see, clothes have never been my thing. I think of clothes the way I think of food. I do not live to eat. I eat to live. I do not cloth myself to be fashionable. I clothe myself so I won’t be nekkid. Although there are moments when nudism has its charms.
I remember Ellen Gilchrist telling a story. She was out shopping. She saw this wonderful dress she wanted. Then she saw this book she wanted more. Guess you know which one she chose. She still has the book. If she had bought the dress, it would be long gone. And she knew she would only get a few hours of entertainment out of the clothes. The book would give her hours and hours and hours of love as she would return to it again and again.
But there are times that I envy the well-dressed man, the one who is always stylish, the Tom Wolfes. In college, I had this professor who was always fashionable. I asked him one time where he got his clothes. He said that years earlier he had saved up and bought a number of tailored suits. They were built to last. He still wore those suits and he always received compliments on the way he dressed. But how did he stay up to date? His answer was that eventually all fashions come back around.
Recently I went out clothes shopping. Realized that I don’t have a decent pair of dress pants or a dress shirt in my closet, something I could wear to a wedding or a funeral. My closet is filled with casual and work clothes. Anyway I go into Sears and am totally exasperated. Nothing, but nothing, pleases me.
When I found something I liked, I soon realized that the darn thing was going to take work to keep it up. Either a special way of laundering, or they required ironing. Or worse still, dry-cleaning. Besides how was I to know if the darn thing would shrink. These days the labels don’t necessary give you the information you need to know this stuff.
And I got to tell you there isn’t a sales person in a mile of me. In this day and age of downsizing, all the salespeople with any expertise have been let go. All the store now have are cashiers who have little knowledge of the stuff they are selling. It would be great if I had a butler or even a maid to do the upkeep. Or even better a fashion consultant.
Now I understand women who spend a day, going shopping, and end up with absolutely nada. They can’t find anything that they are happy with. The difference between them and me is that, at least, they enjoy the trip. I never do.
A female friend of mine told me a story about the time she worked for the United States government some years ago and she was posted overseas when she became pregnant. Now the natural solution to clothes was to wear what the indigenous women wore when they became in the family way. Wear a sari. It is comfortable. It is adjustable. It makes the woman look fashionable. But no, that was against government rules. So she had to explain to one of the local tailors how to make a skirt for a pregnant woman. Wasn’t easy.
The problem is that clothes don’t wear me well. At least, I don’t think they do. They don’t fit my body fashionably. Wonder if the caveman had this problem.