This weekend the GF is out of town reconnecting and spending some QT with her extended family out of state. This leaves me all by myself for the entire weekend. The weird thing is this may be the first time since the holidays that I’ve gone for a whole weekend with no contact. This is not to say that I’m all of a sudden freaking out or that I’m whining about it. It was just interesting to note. Like when high school or college reunions come up and you think to yourself “Wow, it’s been five years already!?”.
On Sunday though, I have my first real “Grown-up” type experience that is not with peers or fellow students – a benefit for the theater company where I’ll be joining the board of directors in a month or so). The event itself is as a brunch and is scheduled for something like 10 am until noon or so at an art gallery downtown. My dilemma – shockingly – is what I’m supposed to wear for an event like this. So I asked the board president, who told me that while she was getting “glammed up”, she was telling her guy invitees that a sport coat “would be appropriate”. Here’s the problem – I don’t really own a “sport coat”. Nor do I have any idea what an appropriate alternative would be. Ordinarily, in a situation like this I would simply ask the GF for advice, but she’s incommunicado until after the event, which leaves me to try and assemble an “outfit” entirely by myself.
Anyone who knows me is already cringing in fear. Ever since I was a small boy, my attempts at self-fashion have been horrific failures. Photographs from my youth are typically viewed only with special viewing glasses that help mute the awful clashing of colors that frequently causes nausea in pregnant women. One of my favorites from junior high involved purple Hawaiian shorts with brightly colored bids (either Toucans, Macaws, or Vultures covered with the blood of their most recent kill - I don’t remember exactly), a bright yellow T-shirt with the picture of a common loon and the word “Minnesota” on it, tennis shoes, and athletic socks with red stripes pulled up to my knees. Yes, this was when I was thirteen.
I also had several items of clothing that I wore purely for functional value, like my special pair of summer shorts with special loops around the waist designed to hold Star Wars figures. Or my infatuation with ‘Roos – the tennis shoes with secret pockets that were not really big enough to be functional. Despite that, they carried an air of secrecy and mystery hitherto not associated with the ordinary pockets in pants or jackets, which typically only carried lint and spare change. I loved pockets. I remember my first jacket that had an inside pocket – it was “Members Only”, so I knew that not everyone had one and felt all the more special for it. I put everything in those pockets. To this day I judge the quality of a coat by how many inside pockets it has, and whether they are located in unusual or unexpected places. Ooh…ooh…and if they have zippers to close them all the better - to prevent pickpockets you know. Not that we had a pickpocket problem in my small town, but you never knew when one might show up. Especially in August, when the shady carnies that ran the county fair midway overran the town and traveling circuses with shifty-eyed clowns popped in for weekends. In either case, I was ready if my pockets zipped shut.
In any event, I have only two days to figure out something appropriate to wear. Thanks to all the episodes of “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” that I’ve seen, I’m much better than I used to be, so I’m optimistic. So long as there aren’t any pregnant women at the benefit, I’m sure I’ll be fine.
On Sunday though, I have my first real “Grown-up” type experience that is not with peers or fellow students – a benefit for the theater company where I’ll be joining the board of directors in a month or so). The event itself is as a brunch and is scheduled for something like 10 am until noon or so at an art gallery downtown. My dilemma – shockingly – is what I’m supposed to wear for an event like this. So I asked the board president, who told me that while she was getting “glammed up”, she was telling her guy invitees that a sport coat “would be appropriate”. Here’s the problem – I don’t really own a “sport coat”. Nor do I have any idea what an appropriate alternative would be. Ordinarily, in a situation like this I would simply ask the GF for advice, but she’s incommunicado until after the event, which leaves me to try and assemble an “outfit” entirely by myself.
Anyone who knows me is already cringing in fear. Ever since I was a small boy, my attempts at self-fashion have been horrific failures. Photographs from my youth are typically viewed only with special viewing glasses that help mute the awful clashing of colors that frequently causes nausea in pregnant women. One of my favorites from junior high involved purple Hawaiian shorts with brightly colored bids (either Toucans, Macaws, or Vultures covered with the blood of their most recent kill - I don’t remember exactly), a bright yellow T-shirt with the picture of a common loon and the word “Minnesota” on it, tennis shoes, and athletic socks with red stripes pulled up to my knees. Yes, this was when I was thirteen.
I also had several items of clothing that I wore purely for functional value, like my special pair of summer shorts with special loops around the waist designed to hold Star Wars figures. Or my infatuation with ‘Roos – the tennis shoes with secret pockets that were not really big enough to be functional. Despite that, they carried an air of secrecy and mystery hitherto not associated with the ordinary pockets in pants or jackets, which typically only carried lint and spare change. I loved pockets. I remember my first jacket that had an inside pocket – it was “Members Only”, so I knew that not everyone had one and felt all the more special for it. I put everything in those pockets. To this day I judge the quality of a coat by how many inside pockets it has, and whether they are located in unusual or unexpected places. Ooh…ooh…and if they have zippers to close them all the better - to prevent pickpockets you know. Not that we had a pickpocket problem in my small town, but you never knew when one might show up. Especially in August, when the shady carnies that ran the county fair midway overran the town and traveling circuses with shifty-eyed clowns popped in for weekends. In either case, I was ready if my pockets zipped shut.
In any event, I have only two days to figure out something appropriate to wear. Thanks to all the episodes of “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” that I’ve seen, I’m much better than I used to be, so I’m optimistic. So long as there aren’t any pregnant women at the benefit, I’m sure I’ll be fine.
Comments
As for the fashion, the 'sportcoat would be appropriate' probably means you can also go with nice pants (khakis, even), shirt and tie (perhaps you just left your sportcoat somewhere!), or the above with a nice sweater on top if it's still chilly. Or, a la Queer Eye, you could use a suit jacket as a sportcoat, as long as it doesn't look to obviously suit-y. Hell, Carson would probably say you could do a suit coat with jeans and a shirt and tie, as long as you zhuzhed the shirt sleeves.
I have to admit that I, too, have been learning a lot about how to dress myself better from TV - primarily from "What Not to Wear." For example, I now feel really kind of gross when wearing a t-shirt that's too big on me with a pair of jean shorts, which used to be my summer uniform.
Those shows should get some sort of public service awards from the Dorks of America.
Also, neckerchiefs - hotter than hot.