White Men Can't Dress

I was with my brother in Vegas two weeks ago. I unwittingly booked a trip over March Madness. Big fucking mistake. A blinding display of cargo shorts and flip flops.

We have a crisis in this country. No, it’s not opioids. No, it’s not COVID. It’s something entirely different. It’s that white men—from rich to poor—do not know how to dress.

Ocean’s Eleven is, what—21 years old now? So there is this scene in the beginning in the movie where Danny Ocean is released from prison, and makes a beeline to the Trump Plaza in Atlantic City. The Trump Plaza was demolished a few years back, and even when it was there, it was nothing special, but in the movie, men are wearing suits, women are wearing dresses, and the glamour and glitz are something out of the Rat Pack days.

Here, at Trump Plaza, George Clooney is sitting at the blackjack table wearing a houndstooth jacket with rakish wide lapels (a throwback to the Y2K days) and a brown shirt—and looks amazing.

I can tell you that there was not one person in Vegas that looked like this.

Mind you, I was staying at the Cosmopolitan, which is more known for twentysomething girls wearing micro cocktail dresses. But this time, it was dudes in cargo shorts, dudes in cargo shorts, and more dudes in cargo shorts. I saw a lifetime of cargo shorts in three days. And flip-flops. And stained, ratty T-shirts, and dad hats.  And cans of Bud Light. In one of the most expensive hotels on the strip.

Like I said, this transcends rich or poor. Myrtle Beach definitely has its own aesthetic (flat-bill cap, tank top, and cargo shorts—“Want some heroin, dude?”) and that seems to be spreading to the rest of the country. I saw a group of what I presumed to be Wall Street guys playing $500 blackjack in cargo shorts and flip flops. For the love of God, have some self-respect. There’s kind of a mismatch if you’re betting $500 on a hand of blackjack and your clothes, taken together, cost less than $20.

So what were you wearing, Dillian? There was a time where I wore suits everywhere. I don’t, anymore, because I got too fat for them. But I still wear a jacket nine months out of the year. Like here, where I was playing craps at the Bellagio, between two jabronis in shorts.

As a general rule, shorts are only acceptable if you are:

·      At the beach

·      Under 10 years old

·      Under 10 years old at the beach

I live at the beach, and I wear pants year-round. Nowhere else in the world do people wear shorts. I went to gifted camp with a kid from Colombia—wore pants every day of the week in the middle of the summer. Go to Europe, go anywhere—no shorts. This is why Old Navy is still in business. In fact, they’re probably doing better than ever.

What’s startling to me are guys who wear this stuff and think that they are somehow sexually attractive—hey, howdy, I’m wearing cargo shorts and a dad hat, wanna fuck?  Imagine the Ocean’s movies remade but with cargo shorts and dad hats. You wouldn’t take them seriously.

Here’s a nice photo of a 50-ish guy wearing cargo shorts, an ugly T-shirt, a trucker hat, Asics, with black socks—pulled up—hitting on a couple of youngish girls that had just won $1,000 at the slot machine at the bar.

This guy struck out spectacularly, and the encounter ended with a polite handshake.  Maybe it would have ended differently if he was dressed like George Clooney at the Trump Plaza.

Or maybe not! You see, one of the things about Myrtle Beach is that women are not interested, zero interest, less than zero interest in well-dressed guys. George Clooney could plop down in the middle of Carolina Roadhouse and not get a second glance.  Women around here want blue-collar guys--you know, guys with a little dirt under their fingernails. And maybe some camouflage, some $75 tattoos, and a beard. Guys with names like Red and Rowdy, with a Ford F-350 in the parking lot. The dude’s truck payment is bigger than his house payment.  Maybe it’s because the white-collar people around here are a bunch of stiffs.  Pleated khakis, white button-down from Belk, blue blazer with gold buttons, tassel loafers. Maybe a golf shirt in the summer time. I, too, might fuck rednecks if that were my only other option.

I get it that we are moving away from suits. Suits suck, because they are uncomfortable. You have a thousand other options. While I was in Vegas, I went to the Tom Ford store in the Crystals Mall by the Aria. Absolutely stunning looks there.  It’s also $5,000 for a single outfit, but if you don’t have that kind of money (and not many people do), you can piece something together from Marshalls and TJ Maxx that looks similar. It just takes a little bit of work. And that is what is at the bottom of this essay, and everything else I write—nobody wants to put in the work. They would rather freeball in the cargo shorts.

There is also the idea that doing things like getting on a plane or going to a casino used to be special occasions. Even going to the movies used to be a special occasion.  There is no occasion that some dickhead white guy won’t desecrate with his cargo shorts. Give it a few years—people will be showing up to weddings in cargo shorts. I literally will not leave the house unless I am wearing a jacket. I won’t even take out the trash unless I am wearing a jacket. Looking good is important—or am I the only one that believes this? Every time you put on your clothes in the morning, you are making a statement. You are making a statement about what you want people to believe about you. And you can be whoever you want. That’s an incredible amount of freedom. So why would people willingly choose to be the garbage man?

I personally go for the middle-aged rock star look. I’m not saying you have to be like me. There is nothing better than classic elegance. A well-made sport coat is great.  Ike Behar and Ted Baker are great. You don’t have to look like Carson Kressley. Even a nice V-neck and fitted jeans go a long way.  It really does not take much.

I’m asking you not to be an ugly American. I don’t know how we got here, but Western Ohio is now the fashion capital of the United States. Good job guys. Just answer me one question: when was the last time you put anything in the pockets on the side of your cargo shorts? Other than a can of dip?

Go fuck yourself,

Jared

Music recommendation:  Nine Inch Nails – Wish.  Heard this in a Hooters last week.  Hadn’t heard it in 25 years.  Still holds up.

Also, don’t forget about the party on Friday night—Doux Supper Club, 59 W 21st St, 7-midnight. Hope to see you there. You can always buy tickets at the door.

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/fools-rush-in-tickets-258942372607

P.S. We’re Gonna Get Those Bastards will always be free. Feel free to forward to anyone you like.