Clothes are Boring

Clothes are boring.

“Clothes bore me. They are terrible things, cons, like vitamins, astrology, pizzas, skating rinks, pop music, heavyweight championship fights”- Charles Bukowski.

Charles Bukowski really had a point didn’t he? In our world of consumerist madness, if you don’t look slick and you don’t look like you could cosy up with Peter Jones the giant or Duncan Banatine on Dragons Den, then your life is ultimately going to be a fruitless, horrific, short and downright shitheap. If you don’t represent the ruggid, chiseled rogue that graces the front cover of soft-porn, soft-LADs mag GQ, then you’re not going to be successful in your life. Get a well-fitting pinstripe grey suit and get a bit of designer stubble then you’re set. Look at the way Piers Morgan smugly looks at us from his smugly written column in smug GQ, and look how smug he looks in his little smug suit. He’s successful, and he dresses likes a smug twat, so surely we should do the same? If we represent anything but this twat, we’re fucked. But as Bukowski said, this is all a con. Why should we care what clothes we wear? Surely the fact that we are clothed is enough? This illusion that clothing is important has been creating by these companies to sell their products, and to make a few feel important. I think the Communists had it right- uniformity. Imagine. Waking up every day, walking over to your wardrobe, and the only choice you would have to make would be- short sleeved or long sleeved shirt. It would be amazing! No one would be judged, no one out casted for not wearing the latest Armani suit, but instead on his or her inner beauty. No pressure, no fear.

As modern men, this pressure is constantly upon us. Advertising makes us fear not being up-to-date with the latest fashion, we actually fear what the repercussions will be if we’re not smothered in the latest aftershave (bogwash) that has the name of some airhead, twat-of-a D-list celebrity (see Peter Andre’s Insania) plastered on it. These heartless, dark figures in advertising, in their ivory-tower offices make us fear the repercussions of not buying their product; we actually are scared of what could happen! The girl we like won’t talk to us, we won’t get that promotion we want, we won’t get our Job Seekers Allowance, and our Parole Officer won’t let us out for our daughters 5^th birthday party, ALL because we didn’t buy that fucking fragrance. Insania, quite.