What really is fashion sense?

Women are our fashion superiors. At least this is what we've been led to believe. But I submit to you that they have a special trick that I'm going to expose, right here on the non-existent pages of this blog.

Let me clarify, some women have fashion sense. My sister, for example, has fashion sense. She could make drapes, a rubber band, and a torn sweatshirt into some sort of presentable outfit. Maybe I'm just saying that because as my older sibling, she's perennially stuck in 80's chic fashion in my head (think Boof from Teen Wolf), but I think there's more to it. She makes and sells her own jewelry. Some people are just like that.

But I am convinced that the vast majority of what passes for "fashion sense" in the female realm is just looking at clothes in magazines and then buying them. Hey guys, we can do that too!

I first learned this from my good ole' buddy RCR. I ran into him sometime in our early college years back home (we went to separate colleges) and he was all dressed up. I was still wearing worn out jeans and flannel shirts, probably atop a black concert tee. I had a set of dress clothes around for family functions and whatnot, but nothing I liked or wore with any frequency.

A mutual female friend of ours mentioned to me how great a dresser RCR was. I was shocked. I thought he looked like a tool. His pants weren't even torn up, and they weren't even jeans! And his shirt, well, it sure wasn't a black Allman Brothers t-shirt like I had. Pfftt, to that, I said. Yet, I was intrigued by this ability to please the eye of female persons. I decided to learn more.

Me: So what's the secret here? How do you pick such great clothes that girls like? My gf's birthday is coming up and it would be really sweet to get her a nice sweater or something.

His response: Dude, just buy what the mannequin is wearing. It never fails.

And I've lost respect for the fashion sense of women ever since. He's totally right. They just buy what the mannequin is wearing. As long as you know your lady's size, and you have a general idea of her colors, just buy her what's on the mannequin. It's so easy! This should be one of the pillars of wisdom men are taught when they slay their first bear.

Along with never, ever, ever, EVER, let someone else pick out your tie.

This is all on my mind because today, for the first time in years, I bought a pair of jeans. I couldn't wear jeans to work in Chicago (wouldn't is more like it), so over 4 years of purging my clothes for the Salvation Army, they all rotated out. I haven't worn jeans in about 4 years. But Seattle, this city is forcing me to downdress. I look a little out of place wearing khakis and a nice shirt everywhere I go. Next on the list, some crummy shoes and a [shudder] vest. I figure I can just let my current crop of shirts deteriorate, and then they'll look normal.

This post is inspired by one of RCR's, one of my personal favorites. I'm not positive, but I get the feeling this one was more off the cuff than usual. I prefer that kind of blogging (of course, look at what I produce here). In the post after that one, he tells us he's going on hiatus. As I tried to say in the comments, a wise man once said, "I'm in a groove now, or is it a rut?" You gotta quit blogging when it's no longer fun. I've been there for sure.



But right now I'm in a place where I type just to read myself blog. I definitely appreciate all you guys and gals coming by. Even though I purposely avoid winning a large audience, the interaction with you regulars makes it all worthwhile. Here's a stupid bonus(?) story for you, you gluttons for punishment(.):

We (me and some Seattle friends) were on top of a hill at a park watching parasailers, and a young family walks by. A seaplane starts taking off from the lake and the Mom says in her best kiddie sing-song voice to the little boy (who I'm calling Jake just 'cause): "Look Jakie! It's a water plaaaaaaaaane!" Now I know she's just being a good Mom and there are valid reasons why talking to children in their formative years like this helps them remember correct pronunciations and all that.

But. The tone was way overdone even for those purposes, and the look on the kid's face was priceless. He just looked over at the plane, watched it for a sec, and then turned to his Mom with a look that said, "Well yeah, dummy, what did you think it was?" and then he went back to playing with the dirt. I almost peed my pants I was laughing so hard.

Oh fine, so you had to be there. There were some guys smoking pot nearby, maybe some of it wafted over.