#324 KWA

Those in the know know that I once spent a spell in the fashion industry. Okay, I sold clothes. There are many interesting reflections on humanity engendered by working the retail end of the fashion continuum, not least of which that men generally find less pleasure in the whole process than do women. On Venus, changing a wardrobe every three months is perfectly acceptable. On Mars, they need clothes with freshness dating. Of course, I’m talking about middle aged men here. Typically, after he age of forty-five, men only buy clothes to replace those that have worn out. Which is why if Carharrt isn’t careful they’ll “quality” themselves right out of the market. Although I’m not sure how Carharrt would rebrand at this point. Did you check out the spring Carharrt line? Ooh, it’s so FAB-ulous. I just love the repositioned rivets. In any event, that’s why women’s stores outnumber men’s stores ten to one in a mall. And teenager stores...
For the only people on the planet even more fashion fickle than the fair gender are the young. And here both sexes qualify. The only time in his life when a young man’s fancy turns to thoughts of fashion is in his genetically-hardwired mating frenzy. It’s then that you’ll see the fashion extremes—the giant baggy pants, the crazy t-shirts, the bling, the sports attire, the expensive tennis shoes. And something weird I saw the other day. Now baggy shorts have been around for a while—and long baggy shorts. Gradually the length has been increasing. From the high thigh days of the OP Corduroy short to the mid-thigh beach bum baggie, we’ve kept going to the nearly knee length jam and the over-the-knee carpenter short. But lately it’s got even worse. I saw this kid the other day walking downtown in full NBA regalia. He had on the full-on baggy jersey, which hung down to about miniskirt level and the baggy shorts, which drooped to nearly his ankles. They actually bottomed out at the lower third of his calf. Needless to say, the guy was about five eight and hopelessly out of shape. I saw another fellow at the fair. He had long shorts too. But he was dressed like a Goth, all in black with big steel-toed biker boots. His shorts had rivets and chains, but they still hit him lower calf. I assume he was supposed to look menacing but I had to work hard not to snicker. Cause they reminded me of knickers. Those below-the-knee trousers old golfers used to wear. Or worse, pedal pushers. Feminine fashion in the flesh. Who would have thought fierce young men would dress in capris. Then again, it’s all in how you brand it. Capris for men won’t sell. But how about if we call them “knickers with attitude.” Yeah, that’s it, KWA. We’ll sell a million of em.
America, ya gotta love it.