Clothes Encounters

You know you’re not the snappiest dresser when you wear black pants to work and everyone asks “Going out tonight?” Or when you buy a new shirt and everyone says “Heeeyyy...new shirt!” as if you show up at work wearing a new item of clothing only once or twice a year. OK, so maybe I do show up at work wearing a new item of clothing only once or twice a year. You don’t have to call me on it.

A few months ago I took a stab at addressing my clothing situation, buying clothes at three different stores on the same day. When I got home, Roommate Scott informed me that while I was out Fleet called and asked if my debit card had been stolen. I would wager that most people could visit three different clothing stores in a day and not receive a call from the Slob Police, so obviously there was further work to be done.

More recently, I was in western Mass. with Girlfriend Liz, who wanted to stop at the J. Crew outlet in the town of Lee. I decided to kill some time looking around the store while she searched for a pair of trouser chinos in harbor (or, to the non-J. Crew-speaking world, “blue pants”). The next thing I knew, I’d bought a pair of pants for myself. Then I remembered that I was wearing mismatched socks with holes in them, but I could stave off doing laundry for a few more days if I bought a couple of new pairs. Soon I’d recklessly splurged on five pairs of socks and three pairs of boxers, with an additional three pairs purchased by Liz. I told her that my three new pairs were sufficient, but for some reason she insisted on buying me more, with her own money—I think I heard her mutter something about most of my underwear being “disgusting” and “needing to be destroyed.” I guess women just love to shop!

Now I was on a roll. Since I started golfing seven years ago I’ve never had golf spikes. I felt that buying golf spikes would be a poseur move for a guy whose tee shots have been known to land behind him. But if I waited until I was actually good at golf to buy the proper shoes, I’d be wearing my Docs on the course ’til RuPaul gains membership at Augusta. So I marched into the first shoe store I spotted to see if they had any spikes. This happened to be Johnston & Murphy, which had no golf shoes. But they did have a pair of black oxfords in my size for $70, and my current pair is about a year overdue for replacement. I bought them, but now I was even more determined to find golf spikes. I headed for the Reebok store. “I’ll go kill some time in Nine West,” said Liz. In less than an hour, the male-female shopping dichotomy had been reversed. I’d become the girl.

At the Reebok store I found a $130 pair of spikes on clearance for $40. When I brought them to the register, the clerk informed me that I could get a second pair of shoes for half price, including those in the adjoining Rockport outlet. At first I balked, because I hadn’t intended to buy any shoes, let alone three pairs, but then the lure of the deal sucked me in, and I eventually walked out with both my golf spikes and a pair of Rockports that look somewhat like leather versions of those wooden shoes worn by the Dutch. That’s right; I bought shoes on a whim. Better watch your back, Imelda Marcos.

To review: I need shirts and pants and I ended up with golf cleats and Ugly Dutchlings. Not only that, the sock purchase might have actually been counterproductive, because I don’t do laundry until I run out of clean socks, which takes about a month. Then, after a laundry trip, I quickly exhaust what passes for dapper clothes in my closet and wear whatever’s available until the next wash day. If I continue to stockpile a sock pile, that means I’ll have to go deeper and deeper into my shirt-and-pants roster, until I’m wearing clean socks, acid-wash Jordache jeans and a Hartford Whalers Starter jacket to work. I hope that outfit looks good with my new shoes. ∂