I was at my parent's house yesterday and I saw my Dad had purchased these bad boys.
You can tell they're classy because they come with cardboard backing. They're a slight upgrade from what he used to wear. Back in the 90's when the rest of the world started wearing Blueblockers ironically, he was wearing them not ironically. He runs an extremely successful business but he still buys his outfits from Costco. He'll wear a shirt inside out to a meeting and never notice. There's usually at least three crumbs or stains on his clothes at any moment. He just doesn't care about such things and most embarrassingly, he sounds like me.
I've never really cared about trendy labels or what's in style. While it's said most women dress for other women, I most certainly dress for men. But only because they are easier to impress. Cleavage and a short skirt are all you need. Unfortunately, I've managed to screw even this up sometimes. I still cringe at the memory of wearing a hot pink fuzzy boah scarf to work one day. I was twenty four. I'd been on the planet way too long to have any excuse for that. Clearly, I wasn't dressing for men or women that day. And I'm the worst at putting together costumes. Like, on the level of being an embarrassment to my entire gender. In
my sorority, we'd have themed dances and I remember doing my best to put together an eighties outfit. When I showed up, the girls asked, “Are you going somewhere tonight?” I said, “Yeah, the 80's dance!” “That's a costume? You're just wearing a black dress.” Sadly, that was me really trying. Shopping exhausts me. I literally have to bribe myself with mall pretzels to get through an hour. My brain is just too full to worry about clothes. Full of what I'm not sure, but it's at maximum capacity. My last boyfriend had to beg me to finally dump the clothes I'd been hanging onto from high school and college. I figured as long as they still fit, no one would be the wiser. Apparently, people were.
Now, in case you don't know me, I should say that most people would think I have fashion sense. I don't look like a walking disaster. Partly because when I figure out an outfit that works, I'll wear it over and over… with different people of course, so they don't know I'm repeating. I love looking good but I hate having to think about it. I'd rather just throw on whatever and go. My ex said I was just too busy floating around in Writer Land. Well, apparently, that's just a short walk from Rocket Science Land where my fashion-impaired father lives.
Hmm. Wonder if Costco has those glasses in pink.