Style

Tonight at the coffee store there is a cat sporting a waterproof, leather cape. The owner is surrounded by about 4 grown men who are absolutely enamored with the cat. She’s tabby, standing erect and proud, and looking quite eloquent and because of this absurd situation; it reminds me of my own life of style. I am thinking about my own behaviors and how they may be perceived by others. I don’t think I would ever draw the same amount of attention that a cat on a leash, sporting that slick, black cape could provide.

I find that Sundays are always the most difficult day for me. I am left with this day where I have absolutely nothing to do. Even if I think about what I could possible do out in the raining and dreary Victorian day, I am at a lost. So I choose to spend my evening sitting at a coffee store, next to an incredibly attractive man wondering…if he? I think so but to be honest I have no idea how to go about it.

My roommate Sandy is becoming interesting. He gives me fashion sense on a day to day basis. For instance, I wanted to dress up for work on Friday so I popped on my pin striped dress pants and was buttoning up my black shirt when he gives me the one over and says “Charlie, you’re worst then any straight guy I have ever seen. A straight guy wouldn’t even do a black on black combination,” glancing up and down with a look of disgust. He's not good at hiding his contempt of me facially. He is an open book when it comes to displaying emotions and I know right away when something is wrong.

I am rushed back into the room, amused but also insulted, because I like my style. I come back out with a white polo (with black stripes) and a pair of casual pants. Again the once over, and after some thought, I finally get an approval. “That’s much better,” as he gives me the thumbs up. A delicate smile traces the lines of his mouth.

I like my style. I think it’s my uniqueness that separates me from everyone else. It’s my fashion, and it’s characteristic of the West Coast, and to be honest, I think Sandy is the one who is more close minded when it comes to fashion choices. What he does in terms of personal style, anyone can duplicate.

"We need to take you shopping Charlie," there is no arguing that statement.

Today we go to the Guess store that he manages. My mission is to find a pair of jeans that fit me properly in all the right places. I have never paid more then sixty dollars for a pair of jeans in the last four of five years, and to look through the stock of jeans with prices averaged to about a hundred and twenty dollars, I have become a little overwhelmed.

Sandy is a pro and right away recommends two or three pairs for me and rushes me off to the change room. The first pair I try on are Falcons, which means nothing to me, but if you ask anyone at Guess they are the ones you want to wear. I am looking at this slim fit, faded, extremely lean looking jeans with a button fly, and proceed for the first fitting.

I find because I am not stereotypically a tight jeans kinda guy, even though I am a size 29, the jeans are very revealing. My butt is completely nude in these jeans, my legs are exposed, and I don’t mind it, but I am feeling a little naked. The buttons on the jeans give me very little breathing room in the stomach area. I am grasping for air.

As I waddle out of the change room to find Sandy, he sees me, and, looks me over and he tells me they look great.

“Ummm Sandy," as I cringe in fear a little, "I find them a bit tight around the waist and they are very nude on me,” I am pleading with him to understand that this is not me.

“They will stretch in time, trust me. You look great in them, you have to get them.” End of story, done. There will be no more pleading because I know his personality.

“I don’t know Sandy, maybe I should look at a couple more pairs. I’m not feeling too comfortable in these, and I am afraid I may gain a pound and they won’t fit anymore,” I’m chuckling to myself because of the absurdity of the situation and all I hear in return is a deep throated heaving sigh. It’s the “you’re impossible Charlie” sigh.

I default back to another pair that I eyed before that he frowned upon. They were a size bigger – note I need breathing room – and it didn’t feel like I was entirely naked. I try them on, showcase them to both Sandy and his workmate Leah, and I am given the OK. It’s not an “I love them and you should wear them forever” but it’s enough to satisfy him into thinking I’m not a complete unfashionable waste of his time.

Fashion sense is one small part of our relationship. In a way I'm doing it to find common ground; I know it interests him and I want to compliment him by gaining his advice. It is a “I’m gonna make you look good if it kills me” kind of relationship that I am open to.

As I left tonight to head to the coffee store, I dress up in my room, quite proud of the choices I made. My ensemble consisted of an Industry tight fitting, jockey, long sleeve shirt with a white front and gray sleeves; my new pair of jeans which I think are hot; a brown, blue, gray zip up sweater; a brown tight fitting jacket; and a pair of brown and jean bowling-like shoes. Whew, a mouth full.

I am excited to show him my style, and I know deep down inside that there is no way he could criticize this planned out combination that most people would think was cool. Ohhhh…I forgot to mention, I am wear a really cool green Aussie hat. I walk out to the living room and ask him what he thinks. There is no way he could tear this down, impossible, I guarantee it will go over well.

“You look like an old man”, he replies. I am stunned. Right then and there I know that I cannot rely on his opinion anymore. This is a great get up. I know, in my experiences in Victoria that this would go over well. I think I have learned that not everyone is right. Just because someone considers something to be cool or fashionable doesn’t mean that it’s what the general public will respond to in a positive manner.

We are all individuals and should live that way.