I miss the way guys used to dress.
Today’s masculine look doesn’t quite do it. Baseball caps. Even worse, backwards baseball caps. Wife beaters and droopy pants. Boring suits and ties.
A couple of friends and I visited an exhibit at the art museum this week. There were some plump ladies getting kidnapped by Greek gods, a lot of paintings of severed heads (reminding me that ISIS is nothing new), but I couldn’t get my mind out of the portrait section. Because, man, those eighteenth century gentlemen had style. I had forgotten about those amazing fashions I first fell in love with way back in the Amadeus movie. The wigs with the ponytails and fancy ribbons. The fantastic stockings and shoes with gold clasps. Why don’t men dress like that anymore? Well, okay…probably because people on the street would point and laugh at them. But hey, I’d be a huge fan!
This is one of the reasons why I’ve always been crazy about Prince. The little man is not afraid to be beautiful. He can rock the ruffles and high heels, and do so with complete confidence. Now there’s a deity who can kidnap me anytime.
Then again, if I demand that guys put more elaborate effort into their outfits, shouldn’t I be doing the same myself? Wouldn’t that mean having to wear giant frilly dresses, petticoats and corsets? Since I’m writing this in my pyjamas, I’m the last person who should be offering fashion critiques. Modern convenience cuts both ways.
All right, I’m not willing to spend fifteen minutes every morning lacing myself up at the waist, and I don’t want to have to run for the train in a long gown. So I won’t expect others to put in that kind of work, either. It’s only fair.
I think I’ll settle for our local hipsters with their bowler hats and handlebar moustaches. They certainly look bizarre enough for me….