Last night we were having dinner with a couple who just got married (Yeah! Congrats, Joe and Beth!) from New York City, when we started talking about the whole Seattle element of the granola/tweaker/homeless look that so many folks out here are rocking, spurred on by the middle-aged hippie on guitar across the street.
“How do you guys take it?” my friend asked. “I passed a guy on the street downtown, and I just wanted to punch him.”
As former New Yorkers all, we sat there and went, Mmmmm…Yes, while this is an emotion we are deeply familiar with, somehow people are not as annoying out here.
“That shit used to really bother me,” I said. “But now I’m just kinda like, ‘Oh, you…’ ”
“Yeah, it starts to fade,” another person said. “It bothers you less and less once you get out here…”
However, the culmination of three key events is bringing the ire out in me: The new Fall Fashion Season is on, but you wouldn’t know it here; the overabundance of gray, stringy, “sensitive-ponytail guys” as Campbell Scott, aka “Steve,” in “Singles” so adequately dubbed them (a great Seattle movie btw); and the fact that I’m actively back in the dating scene.
Here are a few more thoughts on Men and Style and the lack thereof. Take note: Life is not a fucking Kashi ad.
Men in little fucking bike-racing outfits. Seriously, asshole, you’re not training for the Tour de France or trying to bang an Olsen Twin. If I see one more dickbag narrowly blowing by me on the Burke-Gilman Trail with his fancy little expensive padded pants and stripedy-striped aerodymanic shirt, I’m gonna explode into fits of rage. If I was dating a guy and he busted one of these outfits out, I would beat him about the head with his own Shimano cycling shoes.
Shorts in Semi-Casual Social Situations. Are you biking? Boating? Headed for the beach? Hiking? Fine, put on your baggy khakis. But that’s it. I saw a group of middle-aged douchebag dads wine-tasting last weekend—all wearing the baggy, saggy, sad-looking shorts. You know what? Yep. You know better.
Mandals. I once picked up a former boyfriend for a weekend in Long Island. He had just moved from Madison, Wisc. (another worthless hippie town). When he answered the door in Tevas, it totally killed my lady boner. In fact, I was half horrified and half ready to laugh my ass off. Seriously, what grown-ass man puts on sandals that require fucking VELCRO to stick together and thinks that’s acceptable footwear to go to the Hamptons? If you’re wearing mandals of any kind, you better be fucking ankle-deep and fording a stream. Case closed.
Flip-flops, however, are sometimes acceptable if you’re scruffy, hot and on your way to your first post-coital coffee of the day.
While we’re on the mandals, men, take care of your feet. Wash them. Trim your toenails. That’s it. Basic maintenance. It blows my mind how gross most men’s feet are. Another big lady boner kill.
Gray-hair, Sensitive Ponytail Man. Soul patches, or anything else that you think makes you look “young” or “hip” past the age of 40.
Let’s just cut all the long hair, right? Unless you can rock this sorta-medium, scraggly Sawyer-hot look, your hair needs a trimmin’.
Mom Jeans. If Obama can’t make ‘em look hot, what hope do you have?
Wash your clothes. Please?
Sports sunglasses for everyday wear. Translation to the ladies? I’m gonna slip you a roofie later and fingerbang you to Jimmy Buffett.
Wash yourself. Please?
Ladies, what are your greatest Man Fashion Peeves? And for the Gents, feel free to let the criticisms fly…