I went out to Los Angeles to visit my sister for Fall Break. I made sure to bring all of my good clothes and a nice pair of shoes so I would blend in easily. It didn't take me long to realize, however, that by wearing a polo shirt tucked into a pair of khakis, I wasn't fitting in at all.
Everyone I saw in California was dressed as if they were on their way to the gym or had just woken up from a nap. I felt like I was the only person in miles who was wearing a belt.
Some people might have felt awkward in this situation, but I loved it. These were my kind of people. For years I've been screaming at everyone back East about how clothes are overrated, but no one ever seems to listen.
Let me put it to you this way: Before this year, I owned one collared shirt. I now have four. Recently, I bought a pair of jeans for the first time in five years, and I literally wear them every day. I've already washed them so many times that they have little holes everywhere and are starting to come apart at the seams. I don't own a hat or a pair of sunglasses. I have two pairs of shorts. My watch is digital. And Velcro.
About three times a year, I actually go to the mall with the intention of buying some nice, new clothes. As soon as I step into the stores, though, I realize that shopping is not as easy as it sounds. First of all, I can't see or hear anything because of the flashing lights and blaring techno music.
Then I see that all of the jeans have giant rips in the knees and paint splattered all over them. They are separated into different categories. The highest category is called "Destroyed." Each pair has been reduced to a pile of rags. Price: about $200.
Every shirt is neon yellow or pink. Every mannequin wears at least five layers of clothes. I start to get a headache from the smell of the cologne counter. I see a pair of pants that uses a penny instead of a normal button on the waist. Somehow, this increases the value $100 rather than one cent.
An employee asks me if I need help with anything. I want to tell her that I need help understanding why I should spend all of my money on clothes that are intentionally made to look worn and used when I can just wear my old clothes that are actually worn and used for free. But I never do.
I remember during the first week of this school year how excited I was to wear the new shirts I had bought over the summer. I wore them to class, to the library, to dinner, everywhere. Then I started getting lazy. I would wear my nice shirt to my morning class, then change into a T-shirt for the afternoon. Before long, I had fallen into the dreaded "wear an undershirt and warm-up pants all day then sleep in them that night then go to class in them the next day" routine.
On Saturday nights, my friends walk into restaurants sporting their fancy outfits, while I straggle behind in my basketball shorts and a T-shirt that has a giant skull drinking from a bottle with "Time flies when you're having rum!" written underneath.
The only one who sets the bar higher (or lower) is my roommate. Mark has his own distinctive fall, winter and spring fashion lines. Early fall consists of a white undershirt and basketball shorts. As it gets cooler, warm-up pants are added. When winter rolls around, he includes a gray sweatshirt. Once it begins to get warmer in early spring, he sheds the sweatshirt. By the end of spring, he has returned to the undershirt and shorts.
Every transition is like clockwork. It is a cycle that encapsulates the wonder of nature. It's important to note that Mark only owns one of each item of clothing. Should he spill ice cream or mustard on his sweatshirt in December, it will remain there until March when the spring line is unveiled.
Sure, nice clothes might get you women, a better job and the respect of those around you. But is it worth sacrificing your comfort?
I recommend taking a break from the fashion world. Wear pajama pants and sweatshirts wherever you go for a week: the movies, a wedding, whatever. If everyone looks at you like you're crazy, it's because they're jealous that they didn't think of it first.
You've got plenty of time to play dress-up when you're a lawyer or a doctor in 10 years. For now, do what feels right. Be sloppy, and enjoy every minute of it.
Steve Brown is a Trinity junior. His column runs every other Wednesday.
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