Sartorialism and Being a Grownup

Those who know me have probably noticed that in the last year or two I have taken great efforts towards learning how to dress like a grownup. I added a lot of button-up shirts to my wardrobe, bought a few vests, brushed off my old suits, and began scouring thrift stores in earnest. The reasons for this are manifold: I work in a hat store, which suggests a different sort of dress code. I wanted to look more professional among my academic colleagues. I also got a little bit older, go figure.

This interest in dressing well has manifested in a growing collection of clothing that I own and a dwindling collection of clothing I am confident wearing. As I learn "the rules" of dressing well, I begin to realize that none of my secondhand shirts fit "properly", and that my busted old oxfords are laughable, and that my pants don't fit right. I follow a growing number of fashion blogs, pick up books on the subject, and train my eye to pick out nice garments, but I feel more constrained and uncertain about my clothing than ever, and without an Extreme Makeover sized budget for a brand new wardrobe, I am helpless to remedy the problem.

I guess it goes to show that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. I've learned just enough to understand what is wrong, but not enough to fix things. Like a true neurotic, I have found a way to twist my passion for dressing well into a way to stoke my self hatred and make me consistently late to everything.

But let's get back to the instigation for this situation: I suspect that the age factor is the most telling. I turned 26 on the 4th, which puts me squarely in the "late 20's". This has heaped a mountain of insecurity and fear on my shoulders. The pressure to "be a grownup" is greater than ever before. The ugliest part is that I feel like I've been here before, several times. I've gotten tired of everytime some miserable aspect of life rears its head, somebody well-intentioned chimes "Welcome to being a grownup". How many layers are there to this? I fully suspect that as I'm dying someone will welcome me to the world of being a grownup.

And then again comes the backlash. In addition to sartorial blogs, I've been paying attention to a little site called The Art of Manliness. This site is aimed at regaining the finer aspects of masculinity that have been lost to our culture. While this site struggles to maintain a balanced hand in regards to, well... being a man without being an asshole, and it also manages to dispense some handy information, it from time to time features an article on lifestyle choices. The classic example is how men these days need to quit whining and "man up." That entire preceding paragraph would get a "quit whining and man up" response from the AoM collective voice.
So let's bring it all together. I am entering into probably the 6th of 7th layer of the crisis that's apparently just being and adult. I have yet to figure out a damn bit of what I am doing and have successfully managed to dig myself deeper and deeper into a dark hole (deep enough to bury a full grown man in, I would say). I don't have a good job, haven't finished this secondary degree, don't own a house, have a wife, kids, plans for the future, can't pay my bills, NONE of it--but I try to be a snappy dresser.

The funny thing is, to people who aren't in on the whole scoop, it might look convincing. I wear a tie sometimes, in proper context, instead of ironic tshirts and hoodies. I own a pair of goddamned oxfords. Plus: hats. Taking pride and interest in one's clothing is supposed to be a mark of a mature person, so I guess maybe I have a start. To me though, my interest in maintaining my wardrobe and collecting new pieces for it is identical to my interest in collecting new Transformers to add to my collection. So are both of these manly, or childish? I feel like I'm just a major fuckup wearing grownup clothes and trying to fit in. I'm going to stick with it because I want to sharpen my skills as a nice dresser, but it's not going to get my bills paid or satisfy my crushing disappointment with the "grownup" world.

This post was prompted by a couple of things, one of them being the AoM podcast on "Modern Immaturity", another was this little, "A Softer World" style sentence that popped almost fully formed into my head tonight, and that is what I will leave you with:

I will die before I forget the lessons I learned in childhood. Unfortunately those lessons are what's killing me.