Tuesday, June 09, 2009

At what age . . .

. . . do men, if they ever had it in the first place, lose all fashion sense? I mean, is there some line that men (well, the majority of them, mainly hetero, but some of my people as well) cross when suddenly they begin to dress in a more hideous fashion than normal?

This morning, driving to work, enjoying a pleasant day and then - BAM - the Fashion SWAT team is swarming over two men wearing shorts, and socks up to their frakkin' knees. Yes, their frakkin' knees. I think they had to call out the SWAT team because one of the men was wearing dark socks.

So, now you see the whole point of this post. Pretty soon, I'm sure those men will be wearing shorts down to their knees and socks up to their knees. Please, shoot me if you ever see me dressed like that and it's not Halloween.

Now, as someone still under 50 . . . if I'm wearing shorts and tennis shoes, I wear the little footie socks. I don't wear socks that cover my ankles. Why? Because it's WRONG people, WRONG, WRONG, WRONG! Repeat after me: WRONG! Of course, I wear the footies because I have excellent calves and ankles and just like showing them off. I'm just saying . . . But, back to this snark filled post . . . why, people, why, the need to wear socks up to your knees once you reach a certain age? My father - much to the dismay of his four children who had to go out in public with him - did the same thing. I'm still in therapy over that incident, among other things from my childhood. Are men genetically predispositioned to do these things? Is there no hope for me?

Oh, and while I'm on the subject of fashion: socks with sandals is a definite no-no! Never, no matter the reason, wear socks with your sandals. Frank, if you're reading this blog: this means you! Oh, and white socks with dress shoes - NO! Again, Frank, if you're reading this blog: this means you. Picture it, Frank and I out for a night at the theater. He's dressed so nice - dress shirt, khaki, dress shoes. He's a fine looking man. We sit down, he crosses his leg, his khakis ride up to reveal . . . white socks. I was so horrified I sat in another row. Kidding. I did make him put both feet on the floor and promise me never, ever, not in a gazillion years, to do that ever, ever, ever again. Now, before we leave the house, I do a sock check. Hey, it's my duty to keep the fashion police as far away from us as possible.

Last, men in their 60s or above, overweight, covered in hair, should not, under any circumstances, wear a speedo! I think I just went blind!