I confess a few times in Eclipsed that I have never been cool, trendy nor fashionable. I see hip youngsters nowadays covered in tattoos and piercings and I shudder. Surely, being fashionable these days has never required such complete and total commitment to the cause – not to mention pain.
My need to be fashionable has always been fatally undermined by my need to be comfortable and let’s be frank; there is no kudos in comfort. When it comes to looking good, it seems to me that pain is where it is at; tattoos and piercings being an obvious place to start.
When I do black tie dinners I am often struck by how uncomfortable people appear; men in waist coats so tight that breathing must be a conscious effort but especially women, tottering about in shoes that might well elongate a calf but obviously are painful and explains why when the organisers enter a green room or any place out of sight, the first thing they do is kick off their shoes.
I admire their stoicism here. As a man who would greatly benefit from some extra inches, I wouldn’t endure any pain for this at all.
Same too with the tendency for the new look which requires men to forfeit socks – not something I would ever countenance. The dubious look aside, too damn uncomfortable altogether for me I am afraid.
Speaking of comfort and to hell with how I look, I have always been very partial to pyjamas; clothing which any self-respecting cool man has no understanding of – and in the colder months (about 10 months of the year in the UK) I am even known to tuck my top in to my bottoms.
Dressing gown too.
And similarly my complete reliance on slippers – which might be a fashion crime to some – but these people have no idea what they are missing.
Not that I take a pride in being uncool. Over my life I would have enjoyed being more with-it but it never felt right and so I have erred from grunge and ever more toward velour.
But something happened to me this week which caught me out; a life milestone that I hadn’t seen coming and was not particularly welcome.
Regular readers will know that we have a dog – and dog owners understand that having a single pair of slippers is a folly because we share our slippers with our dogs. Our dog – Tessa – is seemingly particularly fond of my slippers and will take them everywhere with her; which explains why I need to have at least three pairs of slipper on the go at any one time. It is the only way that I can guarantee slippers for both feet albeit they are often different styles and even two rights or two lefts.
One pair I currently have on the go are fabric slippers from the shop, Shuh. I was in there recently and a natty pair caught my eye but the only pair available were a little on the small side. But I bought them anyway and six months later, they haven’t stretched as I had hoped and as such, they are not my go-to slippers – and more of a last resort.
In Marks & Spencer recently, (the shop of the British high street) – a shop I used to work for in my youth and remain very fond of – my eye was drawn to a batch of shoe horns – not something I have ever bought before or used. But a man of a certain age, it struck me what a good idea they are.
And in particular, these shoe horns were of a certain length. By which I mean – long; enabling the man (or woman?) to pull on their shoe without having to bend down.
The smarter readers amongst you will be ahead of me now and won’t need to read on…
But for the slower readers then (I am nothing if not inclusive)…
…in our hallway this week, Nikki – my wife of 25 years suffered the indignity of having to watch her husband put on his slippers using his long (geriatric) shoe horn.
Not grounds for a divorce I hope – but worthy of a heavy sigh and private questions of her life choices I am sure.