Working Out the Love of Work Wear
“Everybody. We right back here doing the same thing.
And I hope y’all enjoy what we doin’. Cause I’m gonna play it’s gonna be good to me.
I have little opening piece…and I told you I don’t play no rock n’ roll but it kinda’ sound like…I don't try to out play nobody. I got my own way of playing.”
—Mississippi Fred McDowell
[Parenthetical to the Fugue: This one isn't about boots or denim or leather. Instead it's asking about why we do this? Why do we offer up our personal style to each other? What do we think we are doing? I don't presume to speak for you, not in the least. But I do offer a few thoughts about why I get dressed everyday and sometimes take a picture and don't mind sharing it with you. We're working stuff out. But what?]
Nowadays workwear is also style. I wish style on everyone because it means you care about the story you are telling yourself.
I hear there’s a dime to be made on being an “influencer.” I don’t resent that and certainly don’t envy the consequences. May your karma like your mistakes be your own. May success bring you what you seek. I don’t mind the idea of influencing anyone but I really don’t want any more skin in that game. No one is really beyond what their critics think, no matter what Rilke advises.
I fancy my opinions more like those of the 12th century tonseisha who might best be described as some pretty bad monks who chose a life of aesthetic reclusion, commented on their world and preferences, and had little interest if others took any notice of them at all. Great work if you can get it, eh? Would Kenko or Chomei have had an IG account? They called their writing zuihitsu, which means flowing with the brush. In other words, let ‘er rip and care not what comes but your heart’s expression, however mundane or insignificant.
Much of the current workwear style is coupled to vintage looks that actually were for work, leisure, or, you know, war when that was the reason you were getting dressed. Of course people work in their workwear clothes and there are some authentic champions who keep a close eye on value, practicality, and common-sense. These reviewers appear aplenty on YouTube and here on the more static blogsphere with always half an eye or more on the price/value equation and on the practicality of a given piece, whether that’s denim, wool, tees, jeans, boots, you name it. I watch all of these fine folks and care about their opinions. I am not nearly as sensible.
Truth is, nothing about my life has much to do with “workwear” given that I’m a professional educator in a Department of Dead and Irrelevant Languages it’s even questionable whether I work at all. Sure I teach but I work in words, mostly from home and try not to leave much anymore. Most “successful” academics have to keep in check that deep streak of misanthropy, well-reasoned asociality, and of course later in life depression. I might just be talking about myself but I still have to work and don’t want another job even if “influencer”were available---I won’t retire since my plan is to die in midsentence. You know, why would you…
So it’s clear now that my passion for the workwear denim boot vintage Amekaji scene has nothing to do with going into the world. I dress like this at home every day and did even during the Covid lockdowns: no lounging around in jammies, mate. It’s bad for your self-esteem, brutal on your sense of value. I need to keep what little sanity remains connected to the ordinary devolutions of self-esteem that every American man should experience---admit it or not.
I exhibit no common sense when it comes to what I like. And that also means I make a point of never looking at price first. That would further spoil the fun. Do you really open the Porsche website to browse 911s asking yourself if this is sensible or affordable? I hope not.
But I do have a process, at least I think I do.
First, I’m going to thumbs up or down. No one holds an opinion they don’t think is true. No adult suspends having an opinion. But when the stakes are low enough it’s easier to be generous about expressing an opinion. Or you can just keep quiet. And in this case, I’m not likely ever going to tell you that I don’t like your boots or your jeans or that this or that is better. It’s easier to let people like what they like. But I’m making those calls inside my head and for myself and I bet you do the same.
My very favourite workwear store sells all sort of things I love and many I would never see myself wearing. I dig it all, which is not the same as up and down thumbs.
Thus, a personal thumbs down doesn’t mean I think something isn’t cool. It could mean I’m not cool enough. It may well mean that something would look good on someone else or that you pull that off or that I don’t need to have an opinion about what you like. I try not to mistake a review for quality with tastes. The world’s better when we have lots of different tastes. I will stand by that one.
And I hope y’all enjoy what we doin’. Cause I’m gonna play it’s gonna be good to me.
I have little opening piece…and I told you I don’t play no rock n’ roll but it kinda’ sound like…I don't try to out play nobody. I got my own way of playing.”
—Mississippi Fred McDowell
[Parenthetical to the Fugue: This one isn't about boots or denim or leather. Instead it's asking about why we do this? Why do we offer up our personal style to each other? What do we think we are doing? I don't presume to speak for you, not in the least. But I do offer a few thoughts about why I get dressed everyday and sometimes take a picture and don't mind sharing it with you. We're working stuff out. But what?]
Nowadays workwear is also style. I wish style on everyone because it means you care about the story you are telling yourself.
I hear there’s a dime to be made on being an “influencer.” I don’t resent that and certainly don’t envy the consequences. May your karma like your mistakes be your own. May success bring you what you seek. I don’t mind the idea of influencing anyone but I really don’t want any more skin in that game. No one is really beyond what their critics think, no matter what Rilke advises.
I fancy my opinions more like those of the 12th century tonseisha who might best be described as some pretty bad monks who chose a life of aesthetic reclusion, commented on their world and preferences, and had little interest if others took any notice of them at all. Great work if you can get it, eh? Would Kenko or Chomei have had an IG account? They called their writing zuihitsu, which means flowing with the brush. In other words, let ‘er rip and care not what comes but your heart’s expression, however mundane or insignificant.
Much of the current workwear style is coupled to vintage looks that actually were for work, leisure, or, you know, war when that was the reason you were getting dressed. Of course people work in their workwear clothes and there are some authentic champions who keep a close eye on value, practicality, and common-sense. These reviewers appear aplenty on YouTube and here on the more static blogsphere with always half an eye or more on the price/value equation and on the practicality of a given piece, whether that’s denim, wool, tees, jeans, boots, you name it. I watch all of these fine folks and care about their opinions. I am not nearly as sensible.
Truth is, nothing about my life has much to do with “workwear” given that I’m a professional educator in a Department of Dead and Irrelevant Languages it’s even questionable whether I work at all. Sure I teach but I work in words, mostly from home and try not to leave much anymore. Most “successful” academics have to keep in check that deep streak of misanthropy, well-reasoned asociality, and of course later in life depression. I might just be talking about myself but I still have to work and don’t want another job even if “influencer”were available---I won’t retire since my plan is to die in midsentence. You know, why would you…
So it’s clear now that my passion for the workwear denim boot vintage Amekaji scene has nothing to do with going into the world. I dress like this at home every day and did even during the Covid lockdowns: no lounging around in jammies, mate. It’s bad for your self-esteem, brutal on your sense of value. I need to keep what little sanity remains connected to the ordinary devolutions of self-esteem that every American man should experience---admit it or not.
I exhibit no common sense when it comes to what I like. And that also means I make a point of never looking at price first. That would further spoil the fun. Do you really open the Porsche website to browse 911s asking yourself if this is sensible or affordable? I hope not.
But I do have a process, at least I think I do.
First, I’m going to thumbs up or down. No one holds an opinion they don’t think is true. No adult suspends having an opinion. But when the stakes are low enough it’s easier to be generous about expressing an opinion. Or you can just keep quiet. And in this case, I’m not likely ever going to tell you that I don’t like your boots or your jeans or that this or that is better. It’s easier to let people like what they like. But I’m making those calls inside my head and for myself and I bet you do the same.
My very favourite workwear store sells all sort of things I love and many I would never see myself wearing. I dig it all, which is not the same as up and down thumbs.
Thus, a personal thumbs down doesn’t mean I think something isn’t cool. It could mean I’m not cool enough. It may well mean that something would look good on someone else or that you pull that off or that I don’t need to have an opinion about what you like. I try not to mistake a review for quality with tastes. The world’s better when we have lots of different tastes. I will stand by that one.
Having my own style is important to me and I know lots of guys for whom their tastes are not important because clearly they’ve given them little thought, at least from the looks of things. Welcome to the majority of American men. Sad? pathetic? Does it matter? I think it matters how people want to tell their story to themselves.
Next comes the price-gaze. This furthers my Is This for Me or Someone Else Consideration. I don’t ask, “Is this worth the price?” but I do ask “Would I pay that price?” I think this keeps the whole matter a lot more honest. What something is worth is what someone will pay. What someone else finds irrational or stupit [sic] or brings upon me their opprobrium and contempt because I might or would pay that price interests me not at all.
If someone finds my choices offensive and I’ve not picked their pocket or broken their leg, I need not further seek an iota of approval. I think a lot of reviewers really do care how their preferences are received, what we might call the ‘What People Will Think of Me’ thing. I can understand that. It strikes me as sensible and decent: I mean, we should care what the world thinks of what we say and do. But the other side of this is Let Your Freak Flag Fly and who’s to say you can’t? Don’t be hurtful and rage on, calmly.
I’ve always suffered from an unwarranted over-confidence and a genuine-disinterest in others’ approval. This is privilege, how could it be otherwise? But good things in life mean we have some room to live as we choose.
I also ask myself repeatedly (to no avail) why I share my opinions or preferences at all if I’m not interested in recognition or approval. I'm pretty sure I'm not lying to myself about this.
Next comes the price-gaze. This furthers my Is This for Me or Someone Else Consideration. I don’t ask, “Is this worth the price?” but I do ask “Would I pay that price?” I think this keeps the whole matter a lot more honest. What something is worth is what someone will pay. What someone else finds irrational or stupit [sic] or brings upon me their opprobrium and contempt because I might or would pay that price interests me not at all.
If someone finds my choices offensive and I’ve not picked their pocket or broken their leg, I need not further seek an iota of approval. I think a lot of reviewers really do care how their preferences are received, what we might call the ‘What People Will Think of Me’ thing. I can understand that. It strikes me as sensible and decent: I mean, we should care what the world thinks of what we say and do. But the other side of this is Let Your Freak Flag Fly and who’s to say you can’t? Don’t be hurtful and rage on, calmly.
I’ve always suffered from an unwarranted over-confidence and a genuine-disinterest in others’ approval. This is privilege, how could it be otherwise? But good things in life mean we have some room to live as we choose.
I also ask myself repeatedly (to no avail) why I share my opinions or preferences at all if I’m not interested in recognition or approval. I'm pretty sure I'm not lying to myself about this.
This whole social media of likes and subscriptions and the rest maybe should make us ask why do we do this? But I promise I’m not going to ask you to “like” my blog, heart my IG, or check out my anything. I don’t actually mind if that’s part of your gig. I’m happy to hit your subscribe button. I likely did before I was asked. I want to support your gig because I enjoy your opinions.
Am I really indifferent if any photo or share or review reaches any audience? Truth is, I write and post to advance a personal fictionalism, one that I allows me to survive by invention in a world I find impossible to fathom for what others’ think and do. This, like the clothes I prefer to wear, are part of a self-invention that tells me tomorrow will be worth it ‘cause I can get dressed, read something interesting, and write if I feel so moved. I need purpose and perhaps strangely enough I have discovered that clothes help give me reason to love life.
Last, comes the scheme or just dream. Scheming is figuring out if and when and how to acquire. Dreaming is graded on a wholly personal largely arbitrary scale from pure delusion to actual disinterest. This means that I might dream about having that six-figure watch with the cool complication but be wholly content just to leave it there. I have found there is an emotional burden to owning things that are uncomfortably expensive.
Anything that I can’t honestly scheme I will not allow cause me the pain of unrequited desire, frustration, or resignation. Instead, I say it’s not my karma, it’s not a loss because there is no dream of gain, and so it’s not part of the plan. And when things reach some threshold of ridiculousness, say, that 50K watch you are wearing to the grocery store, that causes me way too much emotional dislocation. I can love things from afar; I don’t need to own things I can’t honestly afford. I’m glad Patek or A. Lange & Shone make that watch but it’s not for me, even if I win the Lotto. I have enough delusions not to add material objects into the mix. (n.b., you do too, I am sure of it.)
It’d be disingenuous of me to suggest that my work or for that matter much of life has to do with the work of workwear, much less a shore leave night on the town, or moto touring---at least not any more. Yeah, I had to give up the motorcycles to insure I would not at last die by my own artless ineptitude. How many close encounters of the asphalt kind before you learn that there are other ways to enjoy the ride?
Let it be known that I kept the jackets and the boots and call me poseur. We don’t need to work with our hands either to like all that workwear either. Like what you like and write about it if that’s how you help yourself get through a day. I read the news today, oh boy. I am sure you did too. ‘Twas ‘bout a lucky man who made the grade.
Last, comes the scheme or just dream. Scheming is figuring out if and when and how to acquire. Dreaming is graded on a wholly personal largely arbitrary scale from pure delusion to actual disinterest. This means that I might dream about having that six-figure watch with the cool complication but be wholly content just to leave it there. I have found there is an emotional burden to owning things that are uncomfortably expensive.
Anything that I can’t honestly scheme I will not allow cause me the pain of unrequited desire, frustration, or resignation. Instead, I say it’s not my karma, it’s not a loss because there is no dream of gain, and so it’s not part of the plan. And when things reach some threshold of ridiculousness, say, that 50K watch you are wearing to the grocery store, that causes me way too much emotional dislocation. I can love things from afar; I don’t need to own things I can’t honestly afford. I’m glad Patek or A. Lange & Shone make that watch but it’s not for me, even if I win the Lotto. I have enough delusions not to add material objects into the mix. (n.b., you do too, I am sure of it.)
It’d be disingenuous of me to suggest that my work or for that matter much of life has to do with the work of workwear, much less a shore leave night on the town, or moto touring---at least not any more. Yeah, I had to give up the motorcycles to insure I would not at last die by my own artless ineptitude. How many close encounters of the asphalt kind before you learn that there are other ways to enjoy the ride?
Let it be known that I kept the jackets and the boots and call me poseur. We don’t need to work with our hands either to like all that workwear either. Like what you like and write about it if that’s how you help yourself get through a day. I read the news today, oh boy. I am sure you did too. ‘Twas ‘bout a lucky man who made the grade.
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