Man Candy

Does this tie make my butt look fat? Or does it just make me look a 6'1 peppermint candy cane? I guess there are worst things in life than looking like Man Candy. I’ll admit, it does look a little "candy striper-ish". From what I’ve learned, it’s not the suit, it’s the combo. It’s just too much together. It’s not the best cell phone photo, but the tie actually has some light gray in it if you look close. I even had a gay dude help me out in picking the combo. I was afraid he might steer me queer, but instead he apparently just failed me all together. When I came home and laid the suit out on my bed, I became nervous when the realization hit me - I’m going to look like a dork! So I posted this photo on my Facebook page looking for a little fashion help. I’m normally a snappy dresser and I’m not just saying that to make myself feel better, it’s true. Those who know me can vouch for that. But like any straight man, I too have moments of despair. I too sometimes need dressed like a Ken doll, minus the plastic blonde wave of course.

I grew up with my own live-in personal stylist, but when my sister moved to California, I lost my fashion guru. So now I’m like a lost puppy. Thankfully though, someone has stepped up and has agreed to take me under her wing. It has been suggested that I could just wear the tie, but wouldn’t that be obscene? JUST the tie...and nothing else? I don’t know about that! I think that may get me arrested.

I originally bought the suit for a meeting with a bunch of old and crusty government guys in DC. I always have to be mindful of what I wear around them because they don’t exactly appreciate the young/trendy look. They stick to the formal basics. Black. Black. White. And maybe if they are feeling crazy, they add navy blue or gray into the mix. So even though red is my favorite, I hate to throw such a bold color at them. Most are old enough to be my father, or rather older than my father, so I wouldn’t want their ticker to stop! They aren’t prepared to handle the splash of red, which really is fine because I’ve seemed to have accumulated a lot of black clothes to fit their taste. Besides, black is classic, you can’t go wrong with it.

So what’s the verdict? Well I kept the suit and ditched the tie. Actually I still have the tie, but I plan on returning it. For my meeting with the boys in Washington, I went with the suit that never fails to bring me good luck and receives a politian’s nod of approval, the black pinstripe three-piece Armani. And it’s a good thing it makes me feel confident because those guys do their best to rattle me and mentally drain me. The sad part, it works. Seriously, the pressure placed upon me is ridiculous and it’s beyond exhausting! I find myself sweating like a whore in church.

I don’t want to dress like pimp or anything. I’m not into the fur hat and diamond encrusted cane assemble. And I’m not into wearing snake and crocodile skin loafers. I don’t feel the need for my wardrobe to look like it’s the product of a massive San Diego Zoo slaying. Most days I’m Pumas and jeans for work, but when I have a meeting, I need to clean up nicely. I don’t mind dressing up. In fact, I sort of enjoyed my last suit fitting. I walked in thinking I need that cute sales girl’s help. I need her to dress me. Although I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to her UNdressing me either! She obliged my request by helping me get fitted. "Take your pants off", she ordered. God, I thought she would never ask! And she didn’t need to tell me twice! I obeyed. She didn’t say it in a sexy/flirty way though. It was more matter of fact, very business-like. That’s fine though. For all I know, she could be jailbait, but I’m guessing she’s in her early 20s. Regardless, I think her grandfather (the little old man who runs the store) would want to kick my ass if I made a move. Although, he is only 5 feet tall and 100lbs soaking wet. So I think I could take him.

Now if I can just figure out how to stop the little old Italian tailor from tossing around my junk when measuring my inseam. I understand you have to "adjust" to get a proper measurement, but does he really need to manhandle my privates that much? It seems a bit excessive and it makes me more than a little uncomfortable. I wouldn’t mind his granddaughter pitching in to help though. Speaking of needing help, I could also use a hand in unraveling the mystery as to why one of my cufflinks always goes M.I.A. when I’m running late in the morning. I hate that! It will go down as one of life’s greatest mysteries, just like the dryer sock disappearance. Whoever solves the mystery as to why dryers eat a single sock during every wash load will surely be awarded the Nobel Prize!