My friend Zack is the perfect example of a guy who thinks that keeping in touch with the style of clothes is as relevant as the weather forecast for the Upper Amazon.
His spring collection consists of three pairs of black pants, one pair of jeans and assorted T-shirts in monochrome colors, along with a thin beige windbreaker. His fall wardrobe consists of all of the above, with a substitution of a moss green corduroy jacket. Gap and Bulgaria are not words in his vocabulary.
Being an artist has its benefits. No one expects him to appear in a tux or anything remotely resembling Armani. His magazines are arranged in no particular order and cover topics like world news, galleries, and art supplies. He likes to spend his money on traveling and paintings.
My friend Arica is the maven of mode. She can tell you without a moment’s hesitation whether or not that faux doeskin vest works for you or not. She wakes to the daily dilemma: what to wear? Her quest for investment opportunities in life is made in acutely accessorized, color-coordinated fashion statements.
Even when she was hospitalized with appendicitis, she managed to snatch her Cartier silk robe and slippers with matching cloth inserts before it ruptured. Her Vogue magazine collection has invaded some of the apt space usually dedicated to the kitchen. She spends her income on Italian boots and purses.
What are the chances that these two people would ever connect in a thousand years? Too many zeroes on your calculator you say? Think again. They are dating. The only concession so far in two months of heavy hanging, is that Zack has acquired a black sports jacket.
Not a bad compromise. Arica says, “The guys I work with are uniformed clones. Yes, they are well dressed, but I ‘m suspicious of a man who spends more time in front of the mirror than I do.”
Although we may believe that we can tell a person by their appearance, we are often wrong. Yes, a smattering of pierced parts along with loud leather-look black outfits may scream “I’m different. I don’t do the fashion thing.” Or, it may whisper “I’m shy, this is my way of getting some attention without having to say much”.
Unless we are thrown together by predicaments beyond our control, we rarely seek out folks whose exteriors are so different than our own. Stuck at a café in a snowstorm, or showing up at a friend’s party may be one of those unscheduled meeting places. My cousin Mike met his wife at a pot-luck post-divorce celebration hosted by his sister’s roommate.
She had invited the entire apartment block. Bingo. One police detective (no uniform) tugged at the same piece of the bagel as a woman across the buffet. She was a nurse. They fell in love Right there. Perhaps it was the hint of uniform. He leans towards jeans and a T-shirt — preferably from an aging rock band — and she does the young designer look.
Hundreds of years ago when people made their clothes (think of the 4 S’s: sheep, shearing, spinning, and sewing), the connection was somewhat different than it is today. The only label back then was “handspun by Gertrude,” and she probably had a hand in many of the town’s garments.
Today, we haul ourselves to the mall to grab a few items on sale that “fit” our image. Or what we like others to think we are. We have so many more choices to announce our inner being without outside window dressing.
Most of my friends are not overly involved in their pursuit of clothes. But Anna, early in our friendship took me to keep her company while she picked up a new pair of jeans.
” Are you crazy?” I inquired. ” What do you mean?” she asked. Grabbing my friend’s arm to steer her away from folly I explained in my most reasonable voice, “That’s airfare to LA”. (I translate ALL my clothes purchases into airfares. A quarter the fare to London, return to NYC.) She had to be brought up to standard.
“At least wait until they are sale priced and only half-fare,” I suggested. Anna is a beautiful female who isn’t lucky in love. She looks like a model and probably scares most straight men in the other direction. I am happy to say that once she started the new clothing purchase plan, she had enough money left over to take acting lessons and met a guy who flipped her switch. A woman often has the flawed idea that all available funds need to direct towards clothing. Nope.
But there also are limits as to how lax a woman can be when it comes to leaving the premises with a guy who has chosen a khaki green shirt to go with a pair of mud brown pants. My radio producer Matthew now lives by the rule: “Blue and green should never be seen/ Together/ except in the washing machine”. As a result, his romantic life is soaring.
