Authentic Nautical Accessories, and Custom Furnishings
Max here.
Today I’m wearing my new bandanna. Yes, I am acquiring quite the wardrobe. This one is helping to elevate my mood. February needs brightening up. Mother said it was a bit loud. I’m not sure what she meant, but my cat sister Sabrina snickered. What the hell does she know about fashion, anyhow.
I’ve asked father to be on the lookout for a nice paisley print. I think that It would make me look suave and sophisticated.
Don’t you agree?
Last year, I posted the answer below. Not a lot has changed, but I have been seen around town in a heavy tweed jacket, a good quality wool sweater, and the Brooks Glycerin shoes ( for my arthritis!). Today, somebody commented that I had upped my sartorial game. Gee, am I that bad? Underneath the nice jacket and sweater is the same old gamey long-sleeved T, and the pants are still a pair of khaki dock pants ( but clean). There is a rhyme and reason for my attire, and here it is below:
Somewhere in the back of a rack of clothes is a suit. Sport jackets, pants, dress shirts; ditto. I donated most of the stuff years ago. As an anthropologist, I was not what you’d call a high-impact dresser. Once my government job disappeared, my next act was working part-time at UPS while running a small videography business and as a marine woodcarver. I didn’t need sartorial excellence in any of these occupations.
Visiting a sawmill to watch timber become slabs and boards did not require a suit. Likewise, as a small business owner, I wasn’t planning on dressing for promotion. I’d have to plan on laughing at myself; I do that anyway.
So the sartorial accent, so to speak, around my shop is very basic. My uniform of the day consists of lightweight dock pants and a dark-colored, long-sleeved T-shirt or Henley. These items become adorned with woodchips or shavings. Coffee stains and varnish provide accents.
This mode of attire is so persistent that when my oldest son married, he and his fiancee required me to submit what I’d be wearing for the service in advance. Otherwise, they were confident I’d absentmindedly show up fresh from the shop.
Ok, I sometimes dress for success with brightly patterned Hawaiian shirts or bold Indonesian prints. After all, a bit of variety is nice.
In the back of my closet are some lovely tweeds, a raw silk sports coat, button-down shirts, and khaki and grey pants. Part of the wardrobe of my days working on the management end of things.
Suits, though, were never part of that. Now, if I dug deep enough, we might locate a single, very plain brown suit. The lack of suited attire was my rebellion against the quiet dress code of the office. The day my last government job ended was the last time any of that was worn. Just thinking about it now gives me gas.
I am a jeans and T-shirt type of guy now, except when I sport some of my collection of Hawaiian shirts. I especially save the raw silk one with the embroidered Hula girl on the back for special occasions, though.
So you can see that I am definitely out of my comfort zone when The gentleman at the LL Bean store asks how the purple rain jacket looks on his pear shaped frame. I tactfully say “just nifty” while feeling a bit bilious at the shade of purple and the oversize contours of the jacket. But, of course, his wife is standing there glaring at me. But hey, If she wants to step on his style choices, it’s on her.
I grab the plain yellow foul weather gear off the rack and try it on. Style-wise, in some things, I am a creature of tradition. And yellow foul weather gear is the epitome of it. I doubt I’ll ever be out in a gale again, but If some flashback to an earlier phase of my life should occur, I’ll be ready.
So if you ever see a guy on the dock with a broad-brimmed Panama hat, ratty cargo shorts, a WoodenBoat T-shirt with holes in it, a loud Hawaiian shirt, and yellow foul weather gear, please come on over and let me know what you think of my blog. I can take it. Honest.
You must be logged in to post a comment.