If I had my own clothing line, I would probably call it something like, “SMAC: SuperMegaAwesomeComfort,” or “C247: Commando24And7,” or “It Only Looks Like Ass – For Men.” I could probably go on with more names and grow more inappropriate as I went. The idea thoughout would be to convey the notion that I’m probably the one straight man in the world least qualified to have his own line of clothing. I’ll willingly cede that honor to some French guy. His name will probably be Marcel.
Essentially, as an Army Dude, I have two modes of dress and one outlier category which cannot fully qualify as a mode. The first is called “On Duty,” and this varies from Army workout clothes to the nice ‘camouflage’ Garanimals uniform I hide my ugly bod in at the office. Actually, it’s all Garanimals, which for me is a blessing because my idea of color coordination is to wear a black tee shirt with black pants. Anyway, Army Clothes are easy: if it’s gray, wear the black nylon pants, long if cold outside, short if warm outside. If it’s camouflage, wear the other camouflage with it, and make sure you have a belt and spiffy tan tee shirt. Tuck in the bootlaces, you’re not a boxer. This stuff is comfortable in general.
The second mode of dress in my world is called “Off Duty.” This style covers basically everything else I own, to include the tee shirt I won in 1998 by drinking 20 beers, the gym shorts with ‘air conditioning,’ and the other randomly-assembled pile of crap that I’ve accumulated over years of shitty fashion sense. I, like most men, refuse to part with my underwear even when it becomes difficult to tell the leg holes from the other holes that the skivvies didn’t start with. It’s bad economics to throw them away just because the elastic parts don’t work, you know. The best feature of this mode of dress is that it goes great in the gym, the yard, over the grill, or sleeping. Or all the above in no particular order. Paramount here is comfort, and virtually everything is cotton. Cotton is good, cotton breathes. Cotton in this category does not require ironing.
The outlier category we call “Special Occasions.” 35 years ago it was called “Dressed Up.” This category has Army dress uniforms, slacks with belts, coats, pinchy-ass shoes, and of course the required tie. The unifying theme here is DIScomfort. The components of these clothes require not only matching but maintenance, like ironing and polishing. And the maddening hanging of all the military medals and shit I’m supposed to wear. I should also mention intermittent to infrequent try-ons, since apparently these articles of clothing will shrink after hanging out unworn in a dark closet. All these outfits have special socks, and most require a belt that feels like wearing bailing wire. Ultimately, my goal when doing “Special Occasions” is to get the Occasion over and put the Special clothes away again.
Hopefully this long-winded answer to a simple question was entertaining. I’m sure that none of this information is new, especially to the embattled housewives who regularly find their husbands have rescued “Holy” underwear from the garbage. I like to tell myself that I’m saving huge, massive piles of money by not being consistently well-dressed at all times. Truth is, I spend most of my day in the Army Garanimals, and what’s left over is split between sleeping and chores. The good news here is that someday I’ll be an old guy and I can dress however I want without social recourse. I already have plenty of cotton tee shirts.
BrainRants 