Notes From A Burning House

In the news: it seems I am not alone.  Indeed, I am in good company.

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Previously in this space, I wrote of the joys of shopping for discount clothing among the other beasts of my sex at places such as Ross.   Shopping at Out Of The Closet recently availed a very different kind of experience.

As I will be a guest at somebody’s wedding next week, I was browsing in hopes of finding a good navy blazer for thirty bucks.  While I was poking through the jackets, another customer in the store approached me and began our acquaintance by saying, “Hey, this is a great suit but it doesn’t fit me.  You should try this on.” 

Straight men never do that.

Oh, some might assume he was flirting, but he clearly wasn’t.  This wasn’t about sex, it was about clothing.  A good suit should not be languishing in a thrift shop on Sunset Boulevard; and if someone is on hand who might help the suit express its innate handsomeness, it is appropriate to make the introduction.  These are moral convictions I understand. 

He had a good eye, this stranger.  The suit was not a perfect fit, but for thirty-five dollars it was worth taking to a tailor. 

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From what I’ve read recently, tailors are getting scarce.

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In his later years, Alan Watts wrote a delightful essay (or you might call it a very long op-ed) about clothing, ridiculing the restrictive styles of western haute couture and common fashions.  He advocated, as the most practical and beautiful way of covering ourselves, the sarong.  Of course, in some climates that would not be practical at all; still, I am with him on the beauty part – both for men and women.  Sarongs are simple and versatile. They can be modest and dignified, and they can also be sexy. 

Sarongs would offer a lot of color and a standard of comfort to the workplace, an area that is often starving for both. 

Watts goes as far as to suggest that if we swaddle ourselves in fabric instead of cramming ourselves in constricting uniforms, we would have a harder time taking ourselves too seriously.  I wonder. 

I will be told I live in a dream world for entertaining such notions.  That could be true.  For my part, I find the “real” world odd in many ways, and this is one: we adapt our bodies to fit our clothing styles, rather than adapting the styles to be compatible with our bodies. 

You know what I mean? 

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