When I was a little kid child, I had a hard time getting dressed for school. I remember being upset when I was told I couldn’t wear my purple shirt with my orange pants to school because they didn’t match. I thought, “What is ‘matching’? I didn’t learn what “matched” meant until my wife taught me in my 30s.
Through most of my grade school years, my standard outfit was T-Shirts, jeans, sweatshirts and grocery store sneakers most of the year. In the summer, it was cutoff jean shorts, tank tops and flip-flops. We didn’t have much money so I wore plenty of hand-me-downs from my sister. I never learned anything about fashion and really didn’t care.
In middle school, Jordache jeans and white leather Nike hightops were popular. I couldn’t afford either but was able to buy Lee jeans and one pair of high top Converse All Stars each year with my Christmas money from Aunt Es, so I wasn’t a complete social outcast.
My sense of style coalesced in high school. I dressed like the burnouts. Levi’s, a jean jacket year round, a gray hoodie underneath in winter, white leather Nike high-tops, T-shirts and an open button down flannel shirt. I fit right in with the burnouts. My style was casual, broke and comfortable (other than in the dead of winter when I was always freezing).
When I met my wife, I was still dressing like a burnout. Over time, she upgraded my wardrobe to match my career progression. I learned how to dress in preppy outfits as well as jacket and ties. I dressed up for our dinner dates. I learned how to match my clothes (often double checking with her before I put on an outfit).
During the late 90s dot com boom, business casual took off and became acceptable in corporate America. I loved it. It was as close to burnout chic as I could wear for work while still having a white collar job. Button downs, golf shirts and khakis became my staple for 20 years with jeans eventually making their way in.
Now that I’ve been retired for 5 years, I’ve developed my own unique style. My friend’s girlfriend calls my style “desert survivalist”.
It is part “desert survivalist” but also part rock climber and part exercise enthusiast.
90% of my clothing is technical gear. It’s made of lightweight, ripstop nylon and quick drying polyester. It’s form fitting. It allows me to move freely (as if I’m scaling a rock wall or doing a workout).
I wear mostly dark clothing. I own nothing white because I’d undoubtedly get it stained immediately. I prefer dark earthy tones and have a lot of black and gray.
Everything matches. Everything fits.
I did a modest wardrobe upgrade when I was dating – adding a blazer, some jeans, a pair of dress shoes and a sweater. I wore these outfits on dates and will likely occasionally wear them in winter, future dates or special occasions.
I still could care less about fashion. I don’t follow the latest trends. I’ll wear the same clothes multiple days in a row. Even when I change to something new, it’s often indistinguishable from my previous outfit.
I am bombarded with ads for clothing all the time online and on podcasts. On the rare occasions that I check out the products, I am horrified at the prices. It’s always cotton or cotton blend stuff, cheaply made in China and then marked up to absurd levels but marketed as “eliminating the cost of the middle man” and “curated”.
Please.
I’ll pass.