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The Scruffy and the Soshes

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Me at the Living Desert in the Coachella Valley 2022

There are two types of guys in this world (now where have you heard that before?)—the scruffy and the soshes (pronounced sōsh-es). I am clearly among the scruffy, though you will not find me wearing T-shirts, shorts, or flip-flops in public. Also: No tattoos. I guess that makes me a middling scruffy guy.

I have never been a fashion plate. In fact, I have looked down on guys that were. To me, they were soshes: People who were self-conscious about their appearance and, at the same time looked down on people like me, who just didn’t care.

As a retired senior on a fixed income, I have a clothes budget that approaches zero. Some of my shirts and pants are older than many of my acquaintances.

If I had the money, I would probably wear pants that would fit me better, what with my short legs and pot belly, but I would still avoid anything that would smack of GQ or Country Club. At this point in my life, who am I trying to impress? Do I have any possible future as a chick magnet at age 79? Would I even want to? These are important questions as I age.

Fortunately, I feel comfortable in my own skin, even if that skin at times resembles the lunar surface.

From My Piblokto Madness Bed

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William Gibson on Our Military-Influenced Fashions

There are few novelists currently working whom I like as much as William Gibson. His science fiction doesn’t go that far into the future, yet he constantly introduces concepts, which he doesn’t explain, and yet which fascinate me. One such is the Piblokto Madness bed in which her character Hollis Henry from Zero History sleeps at a posh London hotel. Looking up Piblokto on Wikipedia, I found this definition: “A culture-bound syndrome observed primarily in female Inuit and other arctic populations. Individuals experience a sudden dissociative period of extreme excitement in which they often tear off clothes, run naked through the snow, scream, throw things, and perform other wild behaviors.” Huh?

On another topic, Gibson is spot on, namely the civilian fashion of adopting military styles in one’s apparel:

“Sleight had arranged for us to have a look at a garment prototype. We’d picked up interesting industry buzz about it, though when we got the photos and tracings, really, we couldn’t see why. Our best analyst thinks it’s not a tactical design. Something for mall ninjas.”

“For what?”

“The new Mitty demographic.”

“I’m lost,”

“Young men who dress to feel they they’ll be mistaken for having special capability. A species of cosplay, really. Endemic. Lots of boys are playing soldier now. The men who run the world aren’t, and neither are the boys most effectively bent on running it next. Or the ones who’re actually having to be soldiers, of course. But many of the rest have gone gear-queer, to one extent or another.”

“Gear-queer?”

Bigend’s teeth showed. “We had a team of cultural anthropologists interview American soldiers returning from Iraq. That’s where we first heard it. It’s not wholly derogatory, mind you. There are actual professionals who require these things—some of them, anyway. Though they generally seem to be far less fascinated with them. But it’s that fascination that interests us, of course.”

“It is?”

“It’s an obsession with the idea not just of the right stuff, but of the special stuff. Equipment fetishism. The costume and semiotics of achingly elite police and military units. Intense desire to possess same, of course, and in turn to be associated with that world. With its competence, its cocksure exclusivity.”

Pursuing the Uncool #1

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Do You Really Want a Trophy Wife?

This post grew out of a conversation between my brother Dan and me. He noted that I tended to distance myself from anything that smacked of the popular and acceptable. Agreeing with him, I thought I would formulate my somewhat strange philosophy of life. Distilled down to its essence, it is to at all times avoid bragging rights—across the board—and avoid the endless search for prestige, wealth, and everything in their train.  Consider this to be the first part in a series. Here goes:

Trophy Wives

Let us say that you want a slim blonde bed mate with whom to spend your life. That works only if your targeted spouse has no desire for bragging rights to a more desirable man than you can ever be. You might light up a party for a few minutes, but your life will be an endless misery if your desires conflict with hers, as they inevitably will. Marry someone you can live with. I find that Martine looks better all the time.

Cars

Hold off on that Tesla! Your car should be chosen for its ability to get you from Point A to Point B in comfort and safety. Once I had to move my boss’s BMW to a different parking space while he was on vacation. No sooner did I turn the key in the ignition than the computer started indicating numerous error conditions. It seems my boss never initialized the system properly. What fun can you have driving around when you are constantly being reminded what a fool you have been?

Do Your Shoes Look Like They’ve Been Stolen from a Smurf?

Fashion

You can choose to follow the latest fashions, but they are constantly changing. And what looks good to you today will probably look pretty lame tomorrow. In fact, they could look pretty lame today.

To Be Continued …