Clothes Make the Man

I was listening to NPR this morning and there's a buzz about what Michelle Obama, the new First Lady, will wear to the various inauguration balls (yes, plural). The fascination by the fashion industry and indeed by the average Jane means Obama must make her decisions wisely. She can't be too flashy, nor too expensive. She should exude class.

Men rarely run into this problem. The tuxedo has meant that most men can look pretty much alike and so therefore no one cares what Barack Obama will look like. It's interesting no one has pushed this concept so men can break out of the rather rigid mold.

But I don't want to talk about the clothing of the new President nor his wife. I want to talk about my own clothing.

Yesterday I donned a black long sleeve pullover of some sort with dark blue, let's call it black, pants. Black and more black. I was criticized by a co-worker for using a uniform color scheme throughout.

He recalled an incident when he was merely in the sixth grade and his fellow rugrats chided him for his lack of fashion couture. Ah, those 11 year old twits, thinking fashion when they should be worried about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, or perhaps their multiplication tables. This made such an impression on his impressionable mind that he is now hyper-sensitive to this basic "rule" of clothing.

Most people have no problems with this, especially guys. They wear blue jeans and probably lack too many blue colored shirts. So it always contrasts well.

Indeed men's clothing are often so bland that the variations occur above the waist, where jeans will often suffice every day of the week.

And so it goes.