I'm a man in all the obvious ways as well as some that aren't so obvious. Aside from the whole "having a penis" thing, I eat steak, drink whiskey, like action movies and have a fear of commitment and even more of a fear of having children. I wear jeans, like brunettes and along with my special brand of charm - or "misanthropy" as I like to call it - comes the normality fo a few extra pounds that I could spare from my 69 and a half inches.
I'm finding, however, that "fashion" for a man here in New York means being built like a five foot four, 95 lbs. twelve year old girl. Every store I go into displays it's "extra small" size on the mannequins and tabletops, and every displayed pant size seems to only reach the length of 30 inches and the waist fo 32. The counter help performs he miracle of being able to fit into these clothes while all the while delivering no particular kind of service to their customers.
I suppose what I'm wondering here is when it became cool to be short, scrawny and awkward? I know that nerdiness becomes cool some time in your mid-twenties, and I know that most women like a man who at least pretends to be a bit cultured. That doesn't mean they like men whose body structure wouldn't allow them to help carry the groceries, let alone change a tire, and I'm almost certain that no woman wants a man whose newly purchased "extra small" shirt and size 28 jeans reeks of pheromones more than Chanel No. 5.
As for women, their fashion sense isn't any better. All day long I see women walking down the street wearing what can only be defined as a short dress over top of their pants along with sunglasses so large that they put Bono's to shame. Gone are the days when all a woman had to do was look good ina pair of jeans, replaced by todays standard of gaudiness and cellular telephones that cause the perception of Times Square exploding onto their face.
"It costs a fortune to look this trashy," is a quote of Bono's I read once without giving it a second thought. Here in this city, though, where it's hard to find any of the aforementioned products for less than fifty dollars, perhaps it is true that tackiness, gaudiness, or more simply - trashiness acts as social stature. I can only hope I never become rich to the point of looking like rags.
