Fancypants
Getting fitted for my tuxedo today.
Backstory: Joel, one of my best friends, is getting married in about a month and he asked me to be his Best Man. I've pretty much gone through my adult life assuming that I am the best of all the men out there, but it's nice to finally have the title made official. At any rate, because they're having a traditional wedding (in the sense that we're not doing it underwater or naked or online or whatever permutation society has come up with to further bismirch holy matrimony's already blemished name) I have to appear be-tuxed at the altar. Thus, today I head to Men's Wearhouse to be measured, pinned and probably discreetly fondled. I'm guessing.
Thoughts On Wearing a Tux: It's okay, I guess. I'm not exactly what you'd call a "formal" guy. On a scale of one to ten, with "one" representing a deranged homeless man who's made a wardrobe out of medical waste, silly straws and a large chunk of foam rubber and "ten" representing Ryan Seacrest, I'd probably be about a four. I dress well enough to be allowed into Barnes and Noble, but not well enough that the security doesn't follow me around once I'm in there. So, the idea of donning what is essentially the most formal thing a man who's not royalty or the pope can wear is a bit unusual to me. You're talking to the guy who didn't wear a tie to his grandfather's funeral and who has every intention of attending his own wedding in flip-flops. But I suppose it will be fun; a break from my usual reality of shabbiness and moderately lax grooming habits. I will, and this is a direct promise, be pretending that I am James Bond EVERY SECOND that I'm wearing my tux.
Oh sure, I'll smile when they recite their vows and, of course, I'll wipe a tear away when he gives her their first kiss as a married couple. But in my mind, I will be kicking the living shit out of Goldfinger. And really, isn't that what weddings are all about?
Also, I look fucking awesome in a bow tie. I have the neck for it.
Backstory: Joel, one of my best friends, is getting married in about a month and he asked me to be his Best Man. I've pretty much gone through my adult life assuming that I am the best of all the men out there, but it's nice to finally have the title made official. At any rate, because they're having a traditional wedding (in the sense that we're not doing it underwater or naked or online or whatever permutation society has come up with to further bismirch holy matrimony's already blemished name) I have to appear be-tuxed at the altar. Thus, today I head to Men's Wearhouse to be measured, pinned and probably discreetly fondled. I'm guessing.
Thoughts On Wearing a Tux: It's okay, I guess. I'm not exactly what you'd call a "formal" guy. On a scale of one to ten, with "one" representing a deranged homeless man who's made a wardrobe out of medical waste, silly straws and a large chunk of foam rubber and "ten" representing Ryan Seacrest, I'd probably be about a four. I dress well enough to be allowed into Barnes and Noble, but not well enough that the security doesn't follow me around once I'm in there. So, the idea of donning what is essentially the most formal thing a man who's not royalty or the pope can wear is a bit unusual to me. You're talking to the guy who didn't wear a tie to his grandfather's funeral and who has every intention of attending his own wedding in flip-flops. But I suppose it will be fun; a break from my usual reality of shabbiness and moderately lax grooming habits. I will, and this is a direct promise, be pretending that I am James Bond EVERY SECOND that I'm wearing my tux.
Oh sure, I'll smile when they recite their vows and, of course, I'll wipe a tear away when he gives her their first kiss as a married couple. But in my mind, I will be kicking the living shit out of Goldfinger. And really, isn't that what weddings are all about?
Also, I look fucking awesome in a bow tie. I have the neck for it.
posted by Clinton at 11:04 AM
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