The other day I rode down the elevator with four suits. I mean, four gentlemen in their nicely coordinated, very formal, suits.
I used to dress like that. Used. To.
I’ve often told the story, or at least once or twice told the story, of the time that I was at a campaign event. It was the year I worked for the Attorney General candidate in a statewide race. We were at an event with the candidates for Governor and Lt. Governor. If you know me and my history well enough, you can figure out the year and who was at the event.
Not important to the story.
The story is basically this. At the event, there were three candidates and five male staff members. I looked around the crowd. Every one of us was there in a conservative gray pinstriped suit, white shirt, and a red tie.
We were just one drum major away from a marching band.
Years later I attended a meeting where all nine (count them, nine) male staff turned up in a gray herringbone blazer and black slacks.
I spent a good twenty years or so of my professional career in a suit and a tie.
When we lived in DC and before children and budgetary changes, I was a pretty stylish dresser. I’ll spare you the details other than to say that the sales associate at the Nordstrom counter taught me how to tie a bowtie.
I cannot tell you the last time I even walked into Nordstrom.
These days work is more casual. I rarely wear a tie, except for meeting days, and not always then depending on the location.
No one really wears a tie to church anymore either. So, outside the limited time at the office, my ties and suits are pretty much reserved for weddings and funerals.
I am not longing for the days of old. Days like when traveling with a college ministry team we sat through afternoon camp meeting services in three-piece suits.
In the summer.
Let’s just say we could have used some well-placed incense.
Truth is, I don’t spend a lot of money on clothes. Don’t get me wrong, I want to. Sometimes. But it’s a matter of what I need practically and whether or not that money would be better spent elsewhere.
Also true story, buy classic styles that are well made and you can wear them for years.
I have a closet full of shirts to prove it. For the record, the pants from that era are now too large. True story.
Where am I going with all of this?
It’s those Facebook ads. The ones that say “we know how you hate to shop, send us money and we’ll shop for you.”
One goes so far as to have a radio add about how men don’t care about how they look.
I just don’t get the concept of a random subscription that sends a box of stuff every month. I’m assuming you can return what you don’t want. But why not just buy what you want to begin with?
Honest confession. I did have a subscription to a sock service for a while. I do like my snazzy socks. But, I have a drawerful and don’t need to add to randomly add to it. I prefer to select those as well.
That said, if you’re shopping for me, snazzy socks are almost always appropriate.
See, I’m neither a model nor a fashion example. But I want to choose what I wear, not have some random service pick it out for me.
Another true story, in my pre-suit days, I used to measure the cost of things by determining how many pairs of Levis I could buy for the same amount.
Maybe if I had more disposable income I could get into one of those subscription services.
Probably not. I’m just way too picky.
I just don’t get it.
The radio add says “guys just don’t care how they look.”
I don’t know about you, but I don’t know those people.
And I sure don’t want to dress like them.
Here are some things you can (and should) read with an open mind.
TV Networks Reject Ads for Anti-Abortion Movie
Has Anyone Else Had Enough Of The Media Manipulating The Public?
The Republican Standard