I’ve never been much of a clothes person. That’s not to say I don’t wear them, like those fat old weirdos you see on TV sometimes. No, just I’ve never been a person either interested in wearing nice clothes, or capable of buying myself nice clothes. It’s an ailment, I tells ya.
But just because I buy clothes of the non-nice variety doesn’t mean I refuse to wear them – far from it. The most recent pair of trainers I bought are horrible – big fat skater shoes with what look like shiny telegraph poles on them. I look like a particularly unfashionable 14-year-old when I wear them. But I still wear them every day.
I do have standards though, so here’s one thing I know I’ll never wear:
Look at it. Just… look at it. The only people in the world who have any excuse for wearing that… thing are professional sportspeople. And even they’d struggle to explain it away to me. I know for a fact* I would look like the epitome of sex, melted down and poured into a perfectly-fitting man-body-mould if I wore it, but that makes no difference. I find it ghastly, and hope it dies. I probably hope some of the people wearing them die too, but that’s a whole other post.
But there are some things I would actively go out of my way to buy and wear. Let’s see… like this:
Seriously. I would look like a fucking king among men in one of these badboys. My birthday isn’t for another 11 months, but there is a Christmas in the way. Anna – get on it. Though all the time I’d be wearing it I would just be repeating “zoot, zoot, zoot” over and over in my head. That might not actually be a downer though.
AUDIENCE INTERACTION: Clothes wear you would, hmm? Or not!
*Not a fact.