On Fashion

I think it's fair to say that I am not exactly a fashion maven. I am still wearing a pair of jeans I bought in the spring of 2002; indeed, I think of the pair that I purchased in the summer of 2003 as my "new jeans," even though I've bought jeans since then.

My taste in clothes, like my taste in food, is very simple: I am a "jeans and a t-shirt" guy, although I do have standards for both the jeans and the t-shirt*, and I do give a lot of thought to how I look. I just don't have the financial means -- or, barring that, the insider know-how -- to construct a fashion identity for myself that would actually distinguish me in some way. I've never been the kind who enjoys clothes-shopping for shopping's sake (see the first paragraph, obviously), probably in large part because I'm disgusted by how much even my middle-of-the-road clothing (i.e. The Gap or Express Men) costs nowadays. But I do find the business and practice of fashion interesting, even though fashion "types" on the human level tend to irritate me in a way that few other artistic people do (they're right up there with out-of-work theatre actors for their unbalanced Self-Importance / Unbearable Obnoxiousness ratios). Or maybe I'm just talking out my ass because I really like Project Runway, the only reality show in which, despite the drama and amped-up interpersonal bullshit, creativity and accomplishment are actually rewarded. At the end of Project Runway, the contestants have actually done something worth doing -- they've created something -- and we have valued and congratulated them for it; we haven't just watched to see if they'll eat another girl's pussy to impress Flava Flav, or whatever else it is that passes for culture nowadays.

There was a time when I wore my lack of fashion sense -- although it was never a lack of sense, more a lack of willingness to participate -- as a badge of honor. I guess that was my attempt at maintaining some kind of masculine defiance** against the fashion-fag image that most gay men either embrace or have to shrug off (and make no mistake, I still think it's absolutely necessary to shrug that shit off whenever possible). But nowadays I really would like to put more effort into how I look, and I have arrived at a moment where just about every component of my wardrobe, from socks and underwear to shirts and pants to shoes, is ready (in some cases screaming) for a refresh. My unwillingness to spend a shit-ton of money is a huge obstacle, as are my ethical misgivings about how most clothing gets made (despite their sickeningly crude advertisements, I do try to buy American Apparel when possible, purely because it's domestically made on a living wage -- although I also like how their shirts fit), but there's really no reason why I can't gradually introduce a touch more class and style into what I wear over the course of the next year. One thing is for sure, though: I need to stop buying so many damn t-shirts, since I can't wear them to the office. The exception is the winter, when they're always covered with a sweater, but the rest of the year, that eliminates five out of the seven days of the week right there.

Of course, what clothing I can wear connects directly to how my body looks, which is a whoooole other can of worms that doesn't need to be opened in this post (stay tuned, folks!); suffice it to say that I've been planning my clothing reinvention around a hot-sexy-muscular body reinvention that's been, uh, a little delayed for over a year now. I like tight-fitting shirts, but it helps if there's something worth fitting onto under there, y'know? Oh lean, fatless pectorals and non-pencil-width biceps: why have you eluded me for so long?

* For jeans: No baggy legs, good on my butt, generally prefer darker washes to light ones. For t-shirts: Plain, solid colors; band t-shirts (I have entirely too many at this point, though I've taken to using them as home decor as well, which reminds me I need to buy a new set of frames for some of the shirts I've worn out or outgrown); occasionally something with a cool (or, ahem, nerdy) design, a la Threadless or my Magneto Was Right or INVISIBLES #1 t-shirts. (The latter recently purchased from Forbidden Planet; it's the silkscreened grenade from the cover of INVISIBLES #1 on a bright orange t-shirt. Rockin'!) It bears noting at this point that I never, ever wear anything with a clothing manufacturer's logo emblazoned on it. I'm sorry, there's already enough advertising in the world, and I'd prefer to use the real estate on my chest to promote something I support wholeheartedly -- like, say, THE INVISIBLES.

** Josh, if you're reading, I apologize for all the times I gave you shit when we went shopping together for, y'know, giving a shit about clothes. I'm sure you saw right through it and just didn't want to bruise my fragile ego. Thanks for that.