When it comes to style, I don’t want to say that I have none, but I certainly am not as interested as others.
Whereas some people — mostly girls — make every effort to stay up to the minute on recent trends, it usually takes guys (or at least it does for me) several months to get with it. I usually bash new trends, only to find myself buying into them six months later. I’m a little slow on the uptake, I guess. And a hypocrite.
But anyway, the point is that I am not necessarily unstylish, but it’s more that I just don’t care all that much. For me, if it takes more than five minutes from the point where I decide what I want to wear, to actually making it happen, then that’s too long. Men are simple. We’ll throw on a polo shirt and a pair of jeans, and we’re good.
The thing about us is we’ll wear the bare minimum of any dress code. If the work dress code is lenient, and allows jeans, then you’ll never see us wear khakis.
But if I know that I am seeing important people that day who I need to impress, then yeah, I’ll throw on a pair of khakis. I can make an exception.
And for really formal events, where we have to wear suits, well that is just a nightmare. Every man does own a suit. But usually just one.
Firstly, let me tell you seven words that you’ll never hear a man utter: “Are we allowed to wear a suit?” If a suit is not 100% mandatory, then we will not be wearing one. That is a promise. The words “suit” and “voluntary” do not ever go together in a man’s vocabulary.
So when the time comes where we’re attending a wedding, a formal dinner, a job interview or a funeral, and we have to wear a suit, we dread it. Because even without a suit, those events are pretty lackluster as it is. We’re not girls, so we don’t anxiously anticipate weddings. Formal dinners are awful, because I’d much rather eat pizza at home while watching sports in a t-shirt and boxers. Job interviews, meanwhile, are probably the most nerve-wracking 20 minutes of any person’s life, and a funeral… goes without saying. So the fact that you have to wear a suit on top of all that? Disastrous.
Since we wear a suit so seldom, we never put it on perfectly ourselves. We need to constantly look in the mirror, and make sure we are doing it right. Between buttoning the very top button, tying the tie, and putting on those stupid pins that go through the sleeve button holes, it’s just as difficult as trying to make your way through a corn field maze.
That being said, whenever I am putting on a suit, my dad has to help me do it, and my mom inevitably watches. Because, apparently, there is no bigger thrill for mothers in the world then when they see their son wearing a suit.
So when my dad is standing in front of me, helping me tie my tie, and I’m adorned in a t-shirt, dress shirt, suit jacket, dress pants, black socks and black shoes, and my mom is standing three feet away and saying “Oh my God, you look so good! Let me take a picture and send it to grandma,” well, I would give anything to be able to push a button and make myself disappear. I want to vanish without a trace, and have my clothes fall flat to the ground, as if I just got raptured.
Having your parents helping you put on a suit is terrible for a few reasons.
The first being that you are wearing a suit to begin with. I already discussed why that is such a devastating thing.
The second reason is because as you get older, you vie for more independence. But your financial situation doesn’t allow that sometimes. So, while I dream of living in my own one-bedroom flat all by myself, and in reality, am having my dad standing literally six inches away from my face as he helps tie my tie, well that is basically the polar opposite of what I want.
And the third reason is because it is a clear reminder that you as an individual are incapable of putting on a suit by yourself.
Any one of those three reasons is enough to make this situation demoralizing, let alone those three reasons combined.
I know I shouldn’t be complaining, because people may be saying, “You’re lucky your father is around to help you with that,” and they’re right. I know I’m lucky. But I still am going to complain because it’s what I do.
The simple solution would be to just learn to put on a suit by myself. But that is never going to happen because that would require me putting on a suit when I don’t need to, and I have already expressed my feelings on that.
It’s just not something that suits me.
Please don’t stop reading my blog after that joke.
But let me change gears for a second before I go away for the next 24 hours. Last night, my girl Taylor Swift won the CMA “Entertainer of the Year” award yet again. Not that she didn’t deserve it, but it was pretty much a shoe-in since that award is determined by fan voting, and Taylor Swift is clearly the most popular country music artist, primarily among younger people — who would be the ones more inclined to vote in the first place.
As a follower of Ms. Swift on Facebook, I can also say that she ran a furious campaign to encourage her fans to vote for her, primarily by posting funny videos and photos of her cat on a daily basis. I have to give Taylor credit, because as busy as she is, and as someone who is probably set financially for life and doesn’t need to actually care, she really does make every effort to communicate with her fans. That is why she is so adored.
The crappy thing though, is that she is blossoming into a woman, and becoming too hot.
Soon enough, every idiot in America is going to be drooling over her.
But, hot damn, I love her so much that I would agree to wear a suit every day for the rest of my life if she agreed to go out with me.
Nothing screams true love more than that.