August 11, 2004
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I feel spiffy, oh so spiffy. . . .
I have always loved clothes. As a kid, we were poor–got most of my clothes from the Spiegel catalogue or Robert Hall’s. I always envied the rich kids in their Ban-Lons. (Remember them? They were polo shirts made of some nylon and had a gathered waist, so we were allowed to wear them without tucking them in. All other shirts had to be tucked in, and t-shirts hadn’t been invented yet. ) Things looked up after my dad got a civil service job, and I at least had a Madras sport coat when I was a freshman in college.
One of my first jobs, I worked in a camera store and one of the owners always wore Countess Mara ties. I got one for Christmas from my mother-in-law, wore it for about 20 years until it finally got too ragged to look decent. As a state worker, I ALWAYS wore Countess Maras, and felt very clever since I got mine at the Junior League Bargain Box instead of paying the outrageous store prices ($25 at Wanamaker’s in 1978).
Now that I am in Alaska and officially poor, though, things are different. For years I wore mostly raggedy-ass stuff. Actually, during that time I was so busy getting loaded and and feeling sorry for myself that many of those years blur together. I do remember wearing clean jeans and a sport coat to some of Doug’s school events, awards ceremoinies and plays and stuff. (Doug is SuSu’s son.) I should say, were different. Thanks to bag sales at one of the local thrift shops, I can wear things that I could not afford before. Before, I had a few Brooks Brothers shirts I went to New York City to get, but mostly wore, say, Arrow. Not bad, but far from top-shelf. I did have one Calvin Klein suit, but I mostly got my suits at the yearly sale at some upscale men’s shop, the name of which I will remember as soon as I get off the comp.
What brought this on was two things–one, SuSu called me a clothes horse in one of her blogs and that got me to looking at myself in the sartorial splendor department, and two, this is Wasilla market day, held in the grassy historical area in town. Since I am not working in the dusty, gritty flea market, I can dress up a tad. Boy, did I dress up today.
I’m wearing real shoes, for thing thing, instead of the usual sneakers. Arnold Palmer suede casuals, to be precise. (Cost $4.50.) And Haggar Black Label slacks instead of the usual Dockers or jeans. And a Ralph Lauren dress shirt.(Got both of these at bag sales, paid maybe a buck for both of them.) And–I saved the best for last–an honest-to-God Brooks Brothers Harris tweed Golden Fleece sports coat–cost new, I dunno–maybe $300-500 or so. I got it for about $2 at a bag sale. Oh, and I am topped off with a snazzy fedora my sweety got on-line for me a few years ago when we were relatively flush–it cost $20 on-line, would have cost $60 in a store. And in case it warms up a lot today, I have a really neat silk sports shirt in the car. The shirt cost next to nothing.
It occurs to me that as Valley trash goes, I am virtually a metrosexual. I have almost all my teeth, after all, and I sometimes clean my nails. I trim them instead of just letting them break off. And I have taken two showers already this week. (Then again, it HAS been extraordinarily hot recently., Normally, one or two showers a week in the summertime works for me.) Hell, lots of us go weeks or months between showers. I use anti-perspirant.
I’m even wearing a gold Seiko watch. Okay, gold-plated. Maybe it’s not even real gold, and it’s 40 years old or so, inherited it from my dad, along with the alcoholism gene. All things considered, I prefer the watch.
Comments (2)
The last line made me laugh… and, I ruefully add, I think you’ve been making a clothes horse out of me. I still live in my “pajamas” at home (often longjohns and big t-shirts, but sometimes Victoria’s Secret things from bag sales) and usually jeans when I go places, but what jeans! Even after getting rid of the ones I’ve outshrunk (that’s the opposite of outgrown, y’know, a word for those of us mavericks who are reversing the obesity trend), I have at least a dozen pairs of Glorious Vanderbutts, and was inordinately pleased last week to find that pair of like-new Calvin Klein 100% cotton black jeans that obviously either shrank too much in the first washing or were quickly outgrown by someone who follows the trends. All that silk we’ve been getting for “next to nothing” because it compresses so teensy-small in the bags– woohoo! I love the feel of silk shirts on my nipples, as you know.
just saying hello. i like you. what town do you live in. i inherited the genes of addiction as well. i was reading in national geographic. and in russia they have a rehab for women. they do not seem addiction as a disease. instead they see it as breaking the law. rehab for heroin addicts means being locked in a house for 12 months with only minimal chances to get outside. crazy.
have you heard of the beat poets…seeing as your from the 60′s i thought maybe you would be familiar with ol ginsberg.