|Me, 57 pounds ago.|
All my life I've been this way. My family, bless 'em, are resigned to it now, as is my wife. I'm stubborn, I guess, and I don't like being told by people that I have to do things a certain way (especially if I know damn well that there is more than one right answer, or solution). Basically if you want to get me to do something, then tell me that I can't. Unless, of course, it happens to be something that I can't stand or feel is pointless and stupid, because then I won't do it no matter what anyone says.
My first wife found out that telling me I was dressing way too young for my age only spurred me on. I'm sorry, but I'm not ready to join the pipe-and-slippers set just yet. I probably never will be. I've been criticized for my dress sense through the years, but it's MY dress sense. Not yours or anyone else's. I'll dress in what I like and I'm old enough to make my own decisions. So if I want to wear shorts in the depths of winter, I will.
|The infamous blond hair with the blue shirt.|
Note the Casio wristwatch. Well '80s!
|How not to 'vogue'.|
Classic Chaps recently, a shop in Rye that sells vintage weskits and chinos and other delights. I could see shades of my old self returning. I felt that urge to don a flowery shirt and a cravat and put in one of my star-shaped dangly earrings (I still have the hole in the ear, and it still works just fine), run a comb through my curly locks and go make a spectacle of myself.
My wife, bless her cotton socks, when she was still only my girlfriend, tried to encourage me to act my age and dress appropriately by buying me some preppy Tommy Hilfiger/J.Crew/Banana Republic type threads, which I appreciated, but found that although comfy, they weren't saying anything to the world about me. I did not want to fit in with the group. I like being this way and I have to express it visually as well as with my razor sharp wit, superior intellect, musical ability and dashing good looks. Oh, and my humility too.
|The classic "inner child" photo.|