News Flash: Pajama Pants Are For Bedtime

I have a confession to make. Back when I was nineteen and a second-semester college freshman, I learned a lesson. Like so many valuable lessons one learns in college, this took place outside the classroom. In fact, it was in the dining hall.

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a Saturday, meaning that my friends and I were catching breakfast together at about 1:30 in the afternoon. Seeing as I had awoken only 15-20 minutes before this, I decided that it was kosher to mosey on over there wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants.

If I could type the buzzer sound that indicates "wrong" on game shows, I would type it here.

The woman who swiped our ID's to let us in recognized me. She was an older black woman with whom I had a bit of a rapport; we didn't know each other well, but we liked each other and the enjoyment of our brief interactions was both genuine and mutual. When she saw me in pajamas, however, she made no bones about calling me out on it.

"Baby, next time you come 'round here, you need to put some pants on."

Her scolding was maternal in nature, and I was mortified. But she was right, and I deserved to be. I was out in public, and while I was a college kid whose biggest problems were an inability to attract girls or incur the same amount of alcohol poisoning as my buddies, I still had to show some respect to the people around me and put on some actual, legitimate pants.

The man in the picture above was easily in his mid-to-late forties, and for the record, he wasn't homeless (homeless people get free passes from DLAMGD for obvious reasons). Sure, the windowpane pattern on the pants is actually pretty sweet, but that still doesn't take away from the fact that he looks completely foolish. The "I Just Got Out Of Bed" look is no way to present yourself to the world unless its in the comfort of your own home.

Wife Beater+Athletic Shorts=You Look Like a Douche

It's apparently Haterade Week here at DLAMGD. There's no rhyme or reason to it except that there seems to be more inspiration out there lately than normal. On the other hand, when you're at a diner at 2 AM, you're not necessarily going to see the cream of the sartorial crop.

Study the picture above. You'll notice a guy in a wife beater, athletic shorts, and basketball sneakers. To properly demonstrate how this makes one look like a douche, I'll begin my analysis from the bottom up.

1. Sneakers: They're basketball sneakers. By all means, wear them while playing basketball. Hell, wear them while doing anything athletic, I don't give a shit. They just look kind of sloppy, even at a diner.

2. Gym shorts: First, these shorts are insanely long; they hit at mid-calf. I've written other articles about this and if I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: these are called capri pants, and they're for girls. If you're gonna wear long shorts, at least man up like my buddy Dima and buy some actual capri pants. I don't like them, but I respect him for owning up to what he's wearing.

Second, these are gym shorts, and this picture wasn't taken at a gym. Christ, even some ugly crap like denim cargo shorts would have looked better than this. Keep athletic wear at the gym.

3. Wife Beater: This is the most egregiously douchey part of the outfit, the douche-de-resistance, if you will. The wife beater (or A-Shirt, as it's called on the Hanes package) is appropriate in the following contexts:

a. As an undershirt (though it doesn't absorb armpit sweat like a normal t-shirt)
b. As something you wear when you know you're going to get dirty and sweaty: yard work, helping someone move, other types of manual labor, etc.

Here's the thing with guys who wear WB's as their shirt: they seem to think they're buff as all hell. The nature of the shirt is to show off your arms and shoulders, so it obviously looks best (though still not good) on guys who are in shape. Most guys who wear them "out," however, aren't in shape. A prime example: the dude in this picture. He's not ripped, he's not big. In fact, he was soft and a little chunky. In wearing a WB, he's basically saying that he thinks he's hot shit, that women love him and men fear his bulging biceps.

He was wrong. He looked like a douche.

All I Wanted Was An Iced Coffee

After dropping my bass off to get repaired for the second time in two months, I decided that because it was over ninety fucking degrees outside, I deserved an iced coffee. I waltzed into a coffee shop and saw what you see in this photo. My first thought was as follows:

"What the fuck?"

My second thought was, "I don't understand why anyone would do this." For one, it looks sloppy and conveys no message other than "I didn't, even for a second, put any thought into what I was going to wear today. In fact, I may very well be completely unaware that I look like shit." If something other than a living being could "look lazy," socks and sandals would be it.

Second, it doesn't make any logical sense. Sandals are meant to be worn without socks, so if it's hot enough to warrant wearing sandals, why the fuck would you wear socks with them and hold more heat near your body?

My advice is simple: Fuck socks with sandals. This is sartorial dumbassery, and doing it will make you look like a dumbass.

I Can't Believe I Roll My Jeans Up, or Why "Trendy" Doesn't Necessarily Mean "Bad"

I remember being eight years old and talking with my cousin, who's six years older than me (he was fourteen at the time, for those of you who didn't major in math). In addition to discussing our favorite Ninja Turtles and debating the merits of MC Hammer's discography, girls became a subject. If I'd had my current vocabulary and penchant for swearing at the time, my thoughts on girls would have been as follows:

"Girls fucking disgust me. Not only do I not understand their fascination with dolls or their aversion to playing sports, but they have serious, easily-transmittable cooties and should be avoided like the goddam plague."

My cousin told me that that'd change in a few years. He was right.

It seems the same has happened with my reaction to style trends. True, we're all products of our environment, but I always prided myself on knowing the traditional rules of men's style and adhering to them. Trends were inherently bullshit and would spell sartorial ruin if you succumbed to them.

As was the case with the ladies, I was wrong. I learned I was wrong about seven or eight weeks ago, when we had our first heat wave. It was hot as balls outside and I was wearing jeans slim enough to sustain being rolled, so I rolled the legs up a couple of times. I decided that it looked damned good and summery, but then it hit me: this is all over runways and every hipster asshole in this town is doing the same thing. What does that say about me?

I've come to the conclusion that trendiness isn't necessarily all bad, you just have to be selective about the trends you choose to adopt. In general, I find that you're better off flexing trendy pieces into your casual wardrobe as opposed to your formal one, only because dress clothes are generally more expensive, and since not many of us are wiping our asses with hundred dollar bills, we can't afford to go out and buy new suits every year. A suit is a suit and has certain pre-determined correct proportions that don't change with the ebb and flow of fashion. With that in mind, remember that this ultra-narrow lapel trend we're seeing (with skinny-ass ties, to boot) will be gone in a few years. In fact, I'm saying it right now: seven years from now, we'll be seeing super-wide lapels on suit jackets, and it'll be all the fucking rage. Mark my words.

On the other hand, plaid shirts are trendy right now. If you find one that fits well and has colors that look good on you, why the hell wouldn't you give it a shot? Fedoras and porkpie hats are both part of the classic men's sartorial canon AND freakin' ubiquitous right now, so what's the harm in trying one out? If your pants are slim enough to roll up when it's hot, roll 'em up. You do the same with your shirtsleeves, right?

Think of it as selective trendiness, guys. It's ok, trust me.