Everything I Know, I Learned From GQ

When I was in high school band, I used to get nominated for the best dressed award every year. I found it not only strange that I got nominated for such a thing, but also that a high school band had superlatives. Granted, I think my nomination for Best Dressed was largely a joke. I rarely look like total crap, but I think I could use a little help. I've often fantasied about going on What Not To Wear, not only for the chance to totally rebuild my wardrobe with fabulous things, but also to just get a little help.

So last week, when JohnnyMac asked me to come shopping with him and help him pick out some nice work clothes, I was a little surprised. First of all, he works in IT. He doesn't have to dress up for work every day. But, I'm all for lending any sort of hand to a guy that wants to dress nicely. It seems like so many men think that they don't even have to try, or that their clothes are just something that they wear so that they don't get arrested.

I picked JohnnyMac up on Sunday, and we drove out to the fancy open-air mall in Collierville. I had called my brother on the way to JohnnyMac's house to find out exactly where I should take a man shopping. JohnnyMac had agreed to try just about anything, with the exception of horizontally striped thick cotton polo shirts. Apparently, those shirts are the shirts of douchebags, and I was not about to allow JohnnyMac to look like a douche.

We went in Banana Republic, where by the end of half an hour, I had every sales person in the store fawning over JohnnyMac, bringing in sizes, making suggestions, and passing judgment on each new outfit. At one point, I passed a thin sweater and a button down shirt with a small pattern on it over the dressing room door and instructed JohnnyMac to try them on at the same time. When he opened the door, he had the button down on over the sweater and unbuttoned, which is absolutely contrary to the way layering is usually done. Hell, maybe he should have bought both items and worn them like that. Maybe it would be the Next Big Fashion Thing. Male models in New York and Milan would be strutting catwalks in reversed layers. Fashion spreads in men's mags would tout the inventiveness of it. It could be amazing.

But, I digress.

We went to Express, where I had a hard time picking out clothes that weren't overtly douchy. There were lots of cargo shorts and printed t-shirts and really fugly polos. But among all of the fugly, I managed to find this outfit:



Yes, that's a sweater vest, and yes, I think it looks damn good.

After trips to several more stores, (including a trip to the Gap that made me experience a moment of temporary insanity in which I decided that man cardigans were where it's at sartorially), JohnnyMac was starting to look less like a 16 year old computer dork and more like a highly trained adult. He bought some pants, a shirt, and the most awesome non-dryer-safe sweater ever. I'm glad I thought to explain that cashmere blends should be hand washed before there was a washing machine disaster.

The whole experience was a really good one, and I'd gladly do it again. JohnnyMac was easygoing, and tried on everything I brought him, no matter how questionable my taste was. I'm apparently way more qualified to dress other people than I thought I would be. It doesn't hurt that I tend to know what I like, or that I'm pretty strongly opinionated. It also probably helps that I have at least two years of GQ back issues in my apartment and a healthy addiction to Go Fug Yourself. All I know is that if JohnnyMac ever needs a suit, I want to go with him to pick it out.

Sartorially yours,
Kerry