Dearest Rachel –
It feels like it was so long ago – and it was, a good year and a half before your departure – that dress shirts and ties were de rigueur attire for me, as a member of the white collar work farce. You might also remember that I loathed it, especially the tie; it was bad enough that one has to go to work in the first place and be belittled for everything I do, but I have to put myself in a noose in order to comply with the unwritten dress code that is business fashion. There’s just something too ‘on the nose’ about having to do that.
But such were the sartorial requirements to looking ‘professional’ in those days; although ironically, at this time of year, the cooler weather allowed me to wear sweaters with polos beneath them, so I could at least dispense with the hated tie, so it wasn’t all that bad. These days, after a year or two of enforced working from home, it may well be that much of these implicit requirements have gone by the boards (although given the culture of that place, it would surprise me if it went completely casual); thankfully, it’s not something I need to know, or even think about.
My point is, there is a certain sort of attire that was once a daily thing for me – whether I liked it or not (which I did not) – and that still is likely to be a standard ‘uniform,’ if you will, for the professional class I counted myself to be a part of, not so long ago. But now, for me, it’s only a costume.
Aside from the pipe, which is nothing more than a prop from Spirit Halloween (yes, that notorious cheap-jack place that pops up in any space where a business has recently gone out of business – meaning it has no shortage of potential locations), everything here is straight out of my closet. I know your dad left behind a few old pipes, so I might not have had to shop for this cheap replacement, but I wouldn’t know where to look for any of them, and that’s assuming I didn’t get rid of them in the purge lo these many years back.
But the rest of the outfit is just normal dress clothes from a decade or so further back, perfectly suitable for office attire. Slightly more so, in fact; you might even remember back when I joined the church praise team, and one of the other members suggested I update my wardrobe in order to look more like Sunday morning (I think it was assumed back then that, like with any stage performance – which this was – those onstage should look one level better-dressed than the audience. Nowadays, for better or worse, that philosophy has been turned completely on its head, but hey… whatever makes people comfortable so that they keep coming back).
I honestly can’t remember the last time I wore any of this stuff, though; as I said, there’s no call for it at church, and it reminds me too much of work for my liking. I won’t deny that it works on me – and it really does look nicer than most of what I prefer wearing; which, when combined with the beard, generally makes me look more like a well-groomed homeless person, if that doesn’t sound like an oxymoron.
The thing is, none of it feels right on me. Oh, once you get used to the knot in the cravat (and, since having lost all that weight, the collar of this dress shirt has enough give to it that I don’t need to pull the tie so tightly that it’s choking me. Now, if only I could say as much for the belt…), everything else is comfortable enough. And the layers make it ideal for tending my table outside; even though I do have a topcoat that would go with this ensemble, this should be quite sufficient in the late October chill (although I’m told that it will be sunny by noon and thereabouts, there are no guarantees at this time of year). But for all that, and that it looks very much like someone’s normal attire, it isn’t mine.
The fact that it’s part of my wardrobe can’t mitigate that; it just doesn’t feel right. Even my face feels wrong, like a scratchy woolen mask. It’s all just a costume, as far as I’m concerned.
Oh, don’t get me wrong; it’s a good enough costume, and I’ll still wear it (although when folks ask me who, exactly, I’m supposed to be, I’m going to be stuck for an answer. The best I can think of is “oh, just some average Oxford don,” and hope it’s sufficient). I’ll probably keep the beard for the winter, to see if it actually keeps my face warmer throughout the season (and get rid of it once we return from Japan; I wonder if anyone will think I resemble Hayao Miyazaki while we’re there). But I’m putting these clothes away once the festival is over, and I’m getting rid of these whiskers at some point in the relatively near future. Because this look just isn’t me, is it?
But for now, and until then, keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 