How do men look good in suits? I've worn plenty of co-ordinated shirts, ties, and jackets in my life time, but never, ever, did I look anything other than slightly uncomfortable and disheveled. Did they get some kind of lesson I didn't? Is there a class in business school? What?
I'm not trying to bash myself, there's a lot to like about how I'm made. I know I can look good when I want to, and I've mastered the art of dressing up without really dressing up. Even if I DO live most of my life in jeans and a t-shirt, I am frequently told that I look "put together," and I don't assume they're just being kind.
But, when I try to wear a suit, without fail, something will untuck, shift, pucker, or droop as soon as I move or draw a deep breath. I guess a few hundred years of working class genetics can't be shoved into Armani. I have a barrel chest, wide shoulders and a thick neck: I end up looking like someone put shoulder pads on a Gorilla! I have no desire to work in an office, or wander through life looking like a Penguin. I just would like to attend a wedding without spending half of the evening in the bathroom readjusting things.
It's not just the jacket, it starts with the shoes. I have wide feed, like triple E wide, with very high arches. Great for stability, strength, and balance, but not so great if you want to wear a pair of oxfords, loafers, or wingtips. Then there is my big thigh, narrow hip, short waist, and no butt heritage, which means most dress pants look like I've either pulled them up to my ribs, or I'm wearing a soggy diaper: very attractive. I've actually worn a kilt to a wedding twice, and I'm not THAT Scottish.
That leaves me at the shirt and tie: I have an 18.5 inch neck, and 56 inch shoulders, most shirt manufactures seem to operate under the assumption that I'm also 9 feet tall with my knuckles dragging on the floor! For me, just being able to fasten the top button of a dress shirt is a triumph, I have to wear V-Neck t-shirts just to avoid choking, and I usually have to roll up the sleeves to avoid a possible tripping hazard. And ties, I love ties! I love the way they're displayed in the stores, I love the colors and materials they're made of, so much, that I occasionally forget how I'm made and buy them. I own 40 or 50 ties, but wear them? Nope. Yet, I also cannot bring myself to part with them. I hide them, instead, in the back of my closet like some dirty little secret. A rack of rainbow colored, silk shame for some relative to find after I'm gone.
I am not disgusted with myself, but fascinated by the other. The same feeling you get when visiting a foreign country, or even the zoo. When I see a well groomed man in a suit, somewhere in my brain I am wondering, what's their habitat? What do they eat?
