The wonderful side effect of the surgery I recently had is that I’m dropping a lot of weight, and pretty quickly. When I run into someone I haven’t seen in a long time it’s usually the first thing they say is something like “Oh my God, you’re almost skinny.”
I really don’t feel like telling near complete strangers my medical history, so I just started to say I have cancer. “Yeah well, it’s moving fast. So I don’t know. I’m going to fight it, but I’m at peace if it wins…”
There’s always a bit of a pause. Then I follow it up with “You know you were always f a dick to me, because you made a little more, or you lived in a better neighborhood, or you were part of the cool clique in the office. It was hurtful, and wrong, and I just want you to know in case the cancer does take me… I will never ever forgive you for it because you should have been better.”
Fucking with people — particularly people who don’t mind their fucking business — is never not fun. So teach I them a lesson, and I smile a little — because don’t I need joy during this trying time1?
However, with the weight loss and my current employment situation, I’m in a place I’ve never been before. I’m in a world where I can afford and fit in nicer clothes — and it’s fucking refreshing.
For the past few years I’ve been buying everything in the Old Navy catalog, jeans, t-shirts, sweaters, shorts, and so on — and I learned to hate Old Navy in the same way I hate the Foo Fighters2. They’re both ersatz. In the Foo Fighter’s case, it’s Nirvana, punk, rock ‘n’ roll, or whatever musical genre Dave Grohl rubs his overrated taint on.
Old Navy is a cheap imitation of what people are wearing. It’s like their main clothing designer is an alien who specializes in cheap knock offs from PBS kids TV, and religious and educational comic books.
Case in point:
The worst part is when they make them “vintage.” It’s not vintage. They don’t even wash them a ton of times to fade them. They just sort of print it aged, and it looks terrible.
Then there’s the jeans… Okay I’m not going to lie they’re pretty comfy and they’re light so they’re good for summer. But look at this:
Does that fading look real? Or even close to real? It looks like someone air hosed the indigo on.
Or how about this?
The holes are EXACTLY the same from pair to pair. It’s like they use a cookie cutter or something.
I know they’re cheap, so maybe I’m asking too much, but this week I ended up ditching most of my Old Navy clothes. Let me tell you, hauling them all to the closest charitable thrift shop was the best mood booster I ever had since Lexapro.
However, now the question is “what do I wear now?”
I started working on the answer a couple of weeks ago by digging through my closet. I tossed more stuff, clothes that had bad juju, like the shirts my old boss made me wear (until I stopped caring) from when I worked at The Daily Mail3. I also got rid of things that were just really dated, or whatever I just knew I wasn’t going to wear.
Then I started watching men’s fashion Youtube’s and Googling. I started by getting a few basics to just refresh my wardrobe. You know a couple of shirts, a hoodie. I ordered a bunch of jeans from Levi — good ones too, dark wash, that’s shrink to fit, and several different cuts so I can experiment.
Then figured it’s time to give some other things a zhuzh too. I bought an expensive pair of Chelsea Boots that I’ve always wanted. Then I got some new Chuck 70s and low-tops. Then I picked up my old day to day blazer, it’s a bit worn, but serviceable — so I started collecting pins to accessorize it. Sort of like how Rick has his jacket in The Young Ones.
Then as I was going through all of this, I started asking myself things like — am I a scarf guy? Could I rock this thing? Can I wear a blue denim shirt or is it too Pennsyltucky4? Should I get my ear re-pierced5?
During the poor dark depression days I never really had to think about this stuff. Because (1) I couldn’t afford anything good anyway, and (2) I really didn’t give a fuck. A typical good day was rolling out of bed and bothering to put on something clean.
Things are different now, I want to look cool even though I’m no longer in my 20s or 30s. I don’t want to chase ephemeral trends. But I can still peacock a little while staying grounded.
Yes. I said it. I want to peacock. I couldn’t peacock while I was dealing with a decade or so of untreated depression.
Above all, as I’m switching up my wardrobe I want to stay to true to my roots — but maturely. I want to be a little preppy, but have a punky sprezzatura, and it’s a lot more fun than I thought it would be to find it.
Look, I never said I was a good person. Also, no I’m not worried about Karma. I already lost a lot of people I cared about to cancer, so I think I’ve paid it forward.
Yes. I am aware I am going to hell.
Which is a lot.
He also had a weird obsession with my pants. Which were typically just whatever jeans I had. I wasn’t allowed to leave my desk or interact with anyone — ever. So it’s not like they affected the delicate British sensibilities of the Daily Mail. If he’s reading this, go fuck yourself CL.
We’re gonna have to find out, because I bought them all.
I’m leaning on yes for this one