Sharp Dressed Man

“Clean shirt, new shoes
And I don’t know where I am goin’ to
Silk suit, black tie (black tie)
I don’t need a reason why they come runnin’ just as fast as they can
‘Cause every girl crazy ’bout a sharp-dressed man”

I was never much on ZZ Top. Rock and roll was never my bag. Oh wait, sorry. I almost broke into a Seinfeld soliloquy. ZZ Top was never my favorite band, but there is no questioning the fact that some of their songs are legendary, including the one quoted here. People tend to notice when people dress nicely, especially if they aren’t known for dressing nicely. Like me.

I’ve never been very good at looking good. I remember a girl making fun of me in elementary school because I was wearing dark colored socks with blue jeans and sneakers. How did she know what color socks I was wearing? Well, it is because my pants were too short—another notable characteristic of my fashion style when I was a kid. She was pretty hard core about it too. Like, in her mind everyone in the world, or at least everyone on the playground at Westside Elementary in Cleveland, Oklahoma, knew that anyone who is anyone was wearing tube socks. Tube socks, baby. That’s where it’s at.

Christian t-shirt bought at Firey Brothers, ca. third grade

In junior high, things were not any better. Fake Nikes purchased on sale at K-Mart, a remarkably stylish shirt, and jeans with no pockets in the back. On my jeans, the back pockets were in the front. Mom insisted that they were found in the men’s department at K-Mart, but they looked like women’s pants. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the pockets on the front were stylishly decorated with a cool macrame chevron pattern, awkwardly pointing arrows straight at my no-no square. As if a boy in seventh grade needed any further attention drawn to that part of the body. The good news is that mom got such a great deal on those jeans, she bought me two pair. Score.

That haircut—the Harold Rowe special. It is a long story…
I can’t even.

High school was more of the same. Mom still insisted on buying me fake Nikes. She was good at defending her position with regard to the wisdom of careful budgeting, and on the economic value of sneakers, but lost some credibility when she failed to make the connection between cheap shoes and their durability under pressure. She often wondered out loud how boys could tear through a pair of shoes so quickly. “YOU BOYS,” she would say, “I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING WHEN YOU ARE WEARING THESE SHOES…” Not much, mom. Because my feet hurt. Blisters will do that. Once I started dating (believe it or not, after seeing those pictures), it occurred to me one day that I must be going out with the most generous girl in school—for Christmas one year, she bought me a brand-spanking new pair of Nikes, just like the ones Jenny bought Forrest back in Greenbow, Alabama (side note—that’s not the only similarity between me and Forrest Gump, but we’ll save that for another time). Mom smugly turned her nose up at this, pontificating over peoples’ lack of common sense and wasting hard-earned money just to be fashionably correct. Of course, those shoes lasted me well over a year, doing the same kinds of things I did in the store brand shoes. It was later, and by later I mean like, two or three years ago, that I realized my girlfriend may have had an ulterior motive when she bought me those shoes—she didn’t want to be known as the girl who dated the guy who wore fake Nikes. Fair enough. I’m pretty sure this explains why I identified so perfectly with Sue, the man in the Johnny Cash song, whose dad chose a girl’s name believing it would make him tough. My fashion prowess helped shape me—I learned to come up with ways to defend myself against cruel people in school who teased me about the way I dressed. In a world that places a high priority on fashion, I was a newborn giraffe calf, among a pride of hungry lions.

I could go on, about how in high school and college, when I wore Wrangler jeans (before they were popular with the cowboys) and shirts acquired at the many Christian rock concerts I attended back then. It’s a wonder I survived.

Me and my friends. I’m wearing a Christian rock band t-shirt…

Lisa has been a huge help for me in many ways, especially in the area of fashion. She knows things. Thanks to her, I am a much better dresser than I was as a young man. No more “nut huggers.” (Her words, not mine). Avoid monochrome (light colored shirt, dark colored pants, or vice versa). Untuck that shirt! Longer inseams—we don’t want to see your socks! “Wear the clothes, don’t let the clothes wear you.” She says that often.

Back in ‘21, I made a decision to step up my fashion game. (did you catch that—back in ‘21?). I came across a company out of Los Angeles—that’s in California if you didn’t know—their skill set involves turning fashion morons like me into stately looking men. Why not? I’ve heard of companies like this—I think it was Sarah that told us about Stitch Fix—where you pay $25 a month and they send you clothes to try on. What you don’t like, send back. Keep what you like and only pay for the things you keep, minus the $25 you already paid. I’m not a fan of that business model. It works for some people, but not me. You see, I’m a guy, and guys are funny about shopping for clothes. I realize that not everyone is like me, but it is stereotypical of men to not focus on clothes or fret over picking them. Sure, I’ll go to the mall to buy clothes, but only if I absolutely have to, OR if there is a sale going on. And not just any sale—a big sale, like at least 70% off. Dillards does that—a couple of times a year you can walk through Dillards and find clothes at 20 or even 50% off of items already marked down by 70%. “So you’re telling me, Olga, that this pair of pants originally cost sixty dollars, but you’ve marked them down by 70%?” Olga is a Russian immigrant who was a CPA or a pediatrician or something back in the old country, but here in the states, she sells men’s clothes at a department store. I think. Anyway, she confirmed my assessment of the situation. “HOW-EVERRR,” she continued in that cool Russian accent with the rolling r’s, “you can take an additional fifty percent off that price, making these pants nine dollars.” NINE DOLLARS? Heck it would be worth nine dollars to set them on fire and watch them burn! (I say that a lot). So most men HATE shopping for clothes, and only go when there is absolutely no other way out. But don’t expect me to go into that little room and try anything on—there’s no way that we are going into that nasty, covid-laden fitting room. Who has time for that?? They’re nine dollars, I’ll take my chances. Men just need to be told what to wear, and when to wear it. That’s why Stitch Fix isn’t a good fit for me. Just give me a box of clothes, and I’ll take it from there. Don’t give me a bunch of arbitrary choices and make me pick and send stuff back. Too much to think about.

“Stately Men” is the company I discovered last year, and I love their model. You start out by filling out a fairly detailed profile of who you are, what you do, where you work, where you hang out, etc. They assign you a stylist who fits your profile. Then you choose a membership level. There are three. The basic membership is $99 a month. The middle level is $179, and the top level is $300. With the basic membership, you almost never get shoes. The mid-range gets you shoes every once in a while, or a belt, or even a watch. The top level gets you shoes every month, and more clothes. I chose the mid level. The first box I received came with a nice note from my stylist—Megan is her name—and she was quick to point out that she too has MS, which is kind of cool. She doesn’t send a note every month, which is fine, but she does a fine job picking out clothes for me. Lisa doesn’t always agree, but I think she’s a little jelly (that’s what the kids say) of some random woman from Cali picking out clothes for her main man. Lisa’s right though, to be fair—sometimes the clothes they send are a little bland, but I can always send them back for an exchange. Last month they ran a special for upping your membership, so I did. No obligation to stay at the higher level (I’m not about to pay $300 a month for clothes), but spending just one month at the higher level snagged me a giant box of clothes, shoes, belt, etc. Also, you don’t have to do every month. Sometimes I’ll look in my closet, and its like I’ve become some Hollywood clothes horse or something, so I’ll drop back to getting a box every other month. Then I might go back to monthly if I feel like it. For a guy who has never been very good at dressing himself, Stately Men is a game changer. Below you can see some pictures of me rocking the stuff sent to me over the last several months.

This represents about half of the things in my latest box—shirt, shoes, slacks, belt
Woody and I entered a contest—if they chose our photo for their Insta, I’d get free stuff and Woody wouldn’t get jack. We didn’t win.

Yesterday I wore the latest shipment from Megan and the crew out in LA. All day , students asked me why I was so dressed up. “Who ME? Aw this thing? It’s just something I threw together.”

I should point out that Stately isn’t for everyone. Taylor got Jared a membership for Christmas. They weren’t impressed. Didn’t like the choices, or the colors, or whatever. I respect that. Everyone is different. It is working for me—I really like that I have more to wear than jeans and sneakers. I love the anticipation—knowing that box is on the way, and when it arrives, it is like Christmas morning. And just like that, I’m a sharp-dressed man. Or something like that.

Do you want to start dressing like you’re not in junior high anymore? Give Stately a try. It can’t hurt. If you decide to give it a go, maybe you could use this link to get started: . If you do, you’ll get 20% off your order, and I’ll get some free stuff. It’s a win-win.

When you get your first box, take some pictures and post them in the comment section so we can all dote over your newly found fashionista status.

Keep an eye out—every time I get a new shipment from Stately, I’ll post it here.

Published by jasonk5322

I'm a teacher, historian, pastor, cyclist, and guitarist. I've been waging a sometimes-noble battle against MS. I love Jesus, and am amazed that He loves me back.

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