Why Did I Ever Wear Tapered Jeans?

When I pick the subject of a blog, I try to choose from subjects that are near and dear to my heart. I also try to choose subjects from which I have a comfortable distance. Issues that have been resolved for quite some time. It is this rule that allows me to examine very sensitive subjects with honesty, perspective, and oh yes, humor. A sense of humor that will allow me to survive the inevitable barbs that will ensue.

Over the past few years, I have become somewhat of a sartorial fanatic. Which is a fancy GQ term for clothes-whore. Yes, I love clothes. Nice clothes. Expensive clothes. Designer clothes. Oh the things that I would do for a shirt with a designer label. I love the look of a well designed shirt. I love the feel of a beautiful pair of Kenneth Cole boots. And don't get me started on accessories.

But I wasn't always so deeply involved in the ways of fashionism. That's not to say that I didn't care about my appearance. But what I am saying is that you wouldn't have known it to look at me. I mean I simply had absolutely no clue how to purchase and wear clothes. And I also wasn't aware that I had no clue how to purchase and wear clothes.

In my defense, I would also like to remind you all that I am a great giant of a man. And for some god awful reason, the clothing industry does not make it easy for the giant people to purchase stylish clothes. "Well have you tried the Big and Tall stores?" (Please note: Because I am typing this, you cannot hear the mocking tone as I pose this question. But make no mistake, it is clearly there and in full, mocking force) Let me tell you a little something about the Big and Tall stores, sonny boy. They are not meant for people who are Big OR Tall. They are meant for people who are Big AND Tall. So I'd have to be my height but weighing 300 lbs in order to wear those clothes. And the jeans that I could fit on some level, were handicapped by one crucial flaw: Tapered legs.

But before I go into everything that is horrible about tapered jeans, let me talk about my transition from sartorially indifferent to clothes-whore. It started with a little show called, "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy." It changed my life. I finally understood that the clothes did, in fact, make the man. I saw the transformation of scruffy-faced crumbums and mountain men into clean-shaven, well-coiffed hipsters. And they loved it. They were happier. They were more confident. They were men who were not ashamed to get manicures. They understood the importance of proper, intelligent, and stylish footwear. But most of all, they learned that how you present yourself to the world has a strong effect on how you feel about your own sense of worth.

So I ran to various stores and made many clothing purchases with my new found alacrity for fashion. Unfortunately, watching a few episodes of a TV show doesn't really give you much of a clue about style. So I found myself buying clothes that I thought were cool in the store, but then felt like a complete and total dork when I wore them in the outside world.

Clearly I was going to need more help. And since I didn't have my own personal team of gay guys to help me, I had to swallow my pride and ask the help of my friends whose fashion senses I admired. It also meant that I had to say things like, "Dude, I admire your fashion sense. Will you go clothes shopping with me." I mean, no matter how you slice it; no matter how socially acceptable it is; no matter if these are very good friends whose opinions you trust; a statement like that is just gonna come off as gay. It just is. But I got through it.

It turns out that both male and female friends were more than willing to teach me the ropes first hand. They taught me the importance of shoes. They taught me that a form-fitting shirt is complimentary to my body while tight and constricting clothes equals a lot of attention in the Chelsea area of New York City. I was schooled on the brilliant concept known as boot-cut jeans. A wonderful invention that automatically gives style to anyone who dons their magical goodness. I learned that pleated pants are just plain wrong. And I learned my favorite rule of all: Sometimes you gotta push it. Which means that you gotta add that one element that may be a little bit out of your comfort zone. Whether it's a hat, a splash of color, or a funky accessory. That's the best way open up your own personal sense of style.

But there was one final lesson that I hadn't quite figured out yet. Why were tapered jeans so horrible. To be honest, I couldn't really tell the difference between tapered and regular jeans. But during the time I was getting help, I wasn't wearing the dreaded tapered wardrobe cancers. After about a week, I said to myself, "Are tapered jeans really that bad? I'll put on a pair and try and see what the big deal is."

Friends, let me tell you, what I saw scared the hell out of me. I could finally see, after my fashion cleansing, why tapered jeans were such a crime. Basically, they make you look like your walking around carry a big load of crap in your pants. It really does. It gives you the hips of a middle-aged, soccer mom who eats way too many Twinkies. Which is fine if you're a soccer mom but not so hot for a young bachelor. Finally, they are evocative of the early 1990's. Which, although I had a lot of fun then, had long since gone bye-bye. Did I really need to keep the memory of MC Hammer alive and well in my wardrobe. The answer was a resounding no. I immediately stripped and burned those terrible blights on my life and I haven't looked back since.

Now I'm big fan of learning a lesson in these blogs. I mean why write them if you're not going to learn something. So here it goes: It's like I said before, the clothes really do make the man. (Or the woman, fine) If you look at yourself as unworthy, your going to feel unworthy. If you're not going to walk out feeling confident about how you look on the outside, you're not going to feel particularly confident on the inside. If you look like you're carrying a load of crap in your pants, your going to feel like crap. It's an unwritten law.

One of the things that prevented me from seeking help in this department sooner was the sentiment that I didn't want to feel like I was trying to impress people. That I wanted to be myself and that people should accept me as I am. While that is true to some degree, I also needed to be aware of the messages that I was sending to myself. I am not a slob. I am transporter of crap. I am a cool, clean, sharp-minded individual. And the fact of the matter is, I need to remind myself of this fact as often as I can. It's not like we live in a world where everybody is cheering everybody else on. Oh, it is quite the contrary. Therefore, we have to be our own cheerleaders. We have to love ourselves. Ultimately, we have to impress ourselves. And since I am my own worst critic (as well as my biggest fan), if I can impress myself, then that's quite an accomplishment. And hell, if I can accomplish that, then I can accomplish anything.