As I so rudely began my last post by promising Rule 2, then never followed through with the promise, so shall I begin again. Rule 2: Never dress old.
It may go back to an animalistic gene in us; the male peacock spreading his plume being an example, but men enjoy the attention given them by the opposite sex, and strut whenever possible. This may explain that, like the peacock, male birds have the colorful plumage, while the female’s is more subdued. Of course they have an arsenal of effective weapons hidden beneath their plumage, not to mention between their ears that more than compensates for the outward appearance. But that’s another story. If the man is with his other half, this enjoyment is wisely kept concealed, but nonetheless still there. I was certainly no exception. But I can honestly say that at 68 and quite contentedly married, I couldn’t give a rip less what women think when they see me. Of course on the other side of the coin, I am quite sure most women out there feel likewise about me. Any ladies remaining who may be attracted to a senior such as myself, quite frankly, would most likely be giddy with excitement with anything that remotely resembles the right species. But even though I have no urge to “spread my plume,” clothing wise, to catch the attention of women, I will not dress in a fashion that might catch the attention of the Grim Reaper. So my question is, have you seen any of these men that I am about to reveal in print?
If there is one aspect of getting old I have noticed is that some senior men take on a whole new dress code. Color and pattern combinations of shirts and trousers are thrown to the wind. They begin dressing as if on their way to a clown audition. Checkered, polka dots, stripes and flowered shirts or trousers are worn in any combination. All that is missing is blinking lights sewn into the clothing. I can only guess that this is their last sad hooplah at “look at me.”
And then you have those who at some point in their lives decide it necessary to wear a belt and suspenders…at the same time. I don’t understand it. Is there something I’m missing here? One or the other is no longer adequate to hold the trousers from dropping to the ankles?
Such a person can count on this event occurring next. The belt line will begin a slow but steady migration up the torso to a final resting place somewhere around the chest. This upward pilgrimage may be caused by the unrelenting pull of the elastic suspenders. Of course, I am only guessing. And then there is the possible answer that having the belt line so high offers added insurance that in case the trousers do make a sudden dive for the floor the wearer has more time to grab them. Hey folks, I’m just trying to find a logical answer here. But I do know that if I ever get to that point, please drive me to some remote location, push me out of the car, drive away and don’t look back!
And then, dear Lord, you have those who believe they will become an instant chic magnet if they become a walking reincarnation of the disco era; casual suits, bell-bottomed pants and lots of jewelry being the standard attire. Most of these John Travolta throw-backs usually have either colored their hair or donned a hairpiece. All I can say is…”Can you dig it?” And speaking of hair…..
Each day there is a senior out there somewhere who looks into his mirror and thinks, “Why not get rid of that grey?” After all, only his hairdresser will know. Riiiiggghhht! There is nothing like seeing a wrinkled old man sporting darkly colored hair, or possibly a tint closer to a burgundy. That always has me rubbing my chin, thinking. “Mmmm, I wonder if that’s his natural color?”
Then you have the men who have no hair to color. So they opt for a hair piece. Unfortunately, some of these senior studs obviously went straight to “Wigs Are Us Discount” outlet, and, much to their glee, found the discontinued models on sale! Forget about the fact this artificial rug doesn’t remotely match the hair of the wearer, look how much money is being saved! Now they proudly walk the streets with a hair piece that looks more like a road kill than actual hair. I even remember a gentleman who frequented the Sears store I work at who wore a wig that obviously at one time had been a woman’s wig. He looked somewhere between a drag queen and a Beatles groupie. All I could say was, “I want to hold your hand,” and shake it. You made the day of every employee at Sears.
Speaking of a retreating hairline, there are some who choose the old trick of allowing the hair still growing on either the sides or back to grow long, and then combing that hair over the bald area. That sneaky ploy always fools everyone! As I said in my post, “My Observations On Jogging,” there was one man who regularly jogged past my home. As best as I can figure, he let his hair on the back of his head grow long, which he combed forward to cover the bald top. He then sprayed the living bejeesus out of this hair with hair spray to keep it in place. The only problem was that when he ran with any kind of breeze in his face, the stiff mass of hair rose up like a shingle on a roof and fluttered. I have to admit, like many of the others mentioned above, he was sometimes the highlight of my day….
In closing, the best advice I can give…and I mean this, guys. Grow old gracefully. If you are bald, who gives a rip! If you dress as you did a few years back, hey, go for it. Just don’t dress “young,” but, on the other hand, dear God, never dress like you just don’t give a shit. As we grow older, all we have is our dignity. Proudly hang onto it. Dressing like anything less or more is just…well, sorry.
Next: “Where The Hell Did That Hair Come From?”