When Editing a Closet Feels Like Failure

My hoarding clothing stems from two things:

One, the understanding that dressing appropriately is all about context. Where will you be and what will you be doing? This should determine the item, the color, the cut, the fabric, etc.

And two, the fantasy that my life is somehow much more interesting than it really is, or at least the fantasy, that it will be so at some point in the future. I need to be prepared right?

I still own a pair of rugby cleats though it has been ten years since I last played.

I own two pairs of snow pants though it has been 15 years since I last went snowboarding.

In fairness to the ten suits or odd jackets I own, such was daily wear for me pre-pandemic, though I must admit it has been multiple years since I half of them fit comfortably. I am convinced they will al fit again.

I realized the other day that while I have shoes in which to jog, I do not have the right shoes to play basketball. This is appropriate since I haven’t even touched a basketball in maybe five, wait, seven, years, but now that I see the clothing gap I am convinced the shoes are why I’m not playing 3-on-3 right this instant.

I saw an image yesterday of a small stadium where cars race around in a tight circle with a track banked at almost 90 degrees. It was wild. Spectators watch from seats right along the top of the track so they can look down and see cars zip by sticking to the wall as if with a high octane Spiderman superpower. While looking at this awesomeness what stuck out to me most was that one car had an obviously insane man sitting mostly outside the window of this moving car, and I cringed. Not because of the danger but because he was wearing this ill-fitting, multi-color striped, long sleeve golf shirt. It looked like a secondhand cast-off from Old Navy; like the wearer just grabbed something out of a pile with no thought as to size or taste. It robbed a little bit from the spectacle. Evel Knievel understood this. While I may not share his same taste for star spangled Elvis jumpsuits, Mr. Knievel understood how to dress in context. As to the driver in this motodrome, I am convinced that a leather motor cycle jacket, or a shirt in colors that matched the car, or maybe even no shirt at all would have made this whole scene so much more spectacular but instead of thinking this guy was just as cool as his stunt, I was pondering if perhaps this guy was only driving on a wall because he had no other options- because I had to assume he had no other shirts.

I love the idea of owning a tuxedo. I get that wearing a tux tailored to fit, will make me look and feel better, and in any setting where a tux is called for, one would of course want to look and feel their best. I have read and learned enough to know the little details that matter, texture, tailoring, lapel style and jacket length. I need to do more testing to really decide the size of bowtie that works best with my face, but I do know how to tie one, and know that I should.

But then also, I have already lived most of my life, and in all this time have only experienced four occasions where my wearing a tuxedo was appropriate.

So. Should I do a better job honestly curating my closet, or do I find some way to get a yacht to go with my boat shoes?

Orlando

My office window has no curtain and the rain beating against the glass is quite distracting. The noise from the wind reminds me of a B grade Halloween sound track. I have travel plans for the morning. I may have to change them.

As the news touts the danger of “Frankenstorm” my mind wanders to Orlando.Orlando is a place meant for vacation. I went there to work as is evidenced by the photo above. Orlando is also a place meant for families. Mine stayed behind in Philly, ya know, school and all. So as an adult male alone in Orlando, with a professional purpose, I experienced a Disney resort for the first time. It was confusing.The place was not just large, but expansive to the point that I had to plan my outings ahead, “Okay, I’m headed to the lobby. Room key? Check. Map? Check. Water bottle in case I get stranded between here and there? Check.”

The landscape was dotted with palm trees, fountains, arched corridors, and swanky dining options… then this.During the day I walked past numerous children wearing Mickey ears, quite a few adults doing the same, and lots and lots of t shirts. Of course there were t-shirts, I’m at Disney World, so what? Perfectly normal unless you are headed to a black tie reception.There was a live band, cocktails (or bottled water in my case), and a surprisingly large military contingency with more medals and ribbons than I had ever thought possible. Then as you step outside for a breather there are crowds of five year old’s gathering for the outdoor screening of a movie featuring talking animals.I like black tie, and I can tolerate talking livestock, but formal functions feel incomplete without the little black dress and G-rated movies often seem juvenile when viewed without children. My date and my children were hundreds of miles away, and so I made few laps, made small talk and exchanged business cards, then  retreated to less hostile turf.I now know that if I need to get tedious office work done, the best place for me to be productive… is Disney World.