wot the fk
Wot the fk?
He says to the girl next to him, perplexedly staring at what I’m wearing.
Wot the fk is he wearing?
From within his circle of matching stripy shirt, blue jeans and tan shoes attire, he utters his anger, rage and disgust, furrowing his eyebrows as though he’d just seen a sheep give birth.
No less than five minutes later after ordering my pint, I walk into the back gardens for a gentleman in a baby pink football shirt to express the same confusion and discomfort.
I was wearing some denim overalls undone and tied at the waste, a plain collarless white shirt and some blue Converse, in the middle of “fkin'” Shoreditch on Redchurch Street.
I don’t believe in lowering myself to the crude levels of vulgar Neanderthals. The morons who recognise “the faggots” with their “you must be GAY” mentality. The ones who interpret the unknown as some level of dormant homosexuality, the ones who form packs within society and celebrate mimicry by attacking individuality. The ones who judge you now, yet give them years and what they will wear then will be no different from what you wear now.
I have never understood the mentality that is caring for your appearance is a negative thing. The decision you make to wear your stripy shirt and skinny jeans is no different to mine when I get dressed, I want to be comfortable and look good. People imagine that those who work in the fashion industry are sitting from a tower, scoping out “the untrendy” to mock with the zeal of a blacksmith’s hammer, but very few I know would have the audacity to question someone with “what are you WEARING?”. I can’t speak for the industry on a commercial level, but one thing I know is that there are some who want to embrace creativity, and seek to hone the individuality that people can express through whatever they desire to wear. Our clothes are a significant part of our external appearance, and that’s all people can see to make quick snap judgements, and while we shouldn’t live for other’s approval, at the end of the day it’s our own reflection we see when we look in the mirror, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel good about it.
The idea of dressing, for men, seems to be a relatively new thing, and while in the UK it’s honed by celebrity culture and made accessible through the highstreet, we’re doing nothing for ourselves by slating others for trying something else.