On the Elements of Being Out of Style

I was cleaning out my closet yesterday when I realized how out of fashion I am. Thank heavens that the building blocks of men's fashion change only slowly because I really have no compulsion to buy new clothes until the shirts and pants that I currently have wear out. The more I thought about it, the further I think I am from "it". In fact, not only will the light from "it" take several years to reach me, I can't even be sure I'm looking at the light or the shadows on Plato's cavern wall.

This state of unfashionableness (stylelessness? unfashionitude? gauche-ocity?) extends to other areas too. I am so out of style that I'm not proud to be either a metrosexual or against metrosexuality. In fact, I'm vauely embarrassed that I know what a metroxsexual is. I'm so out of fashion that I wish people would stop obsessing about labelling what people do and pay more attention to who they are.

I'm so out of style that I don't even have a gym to go to see or be seen. I do have a set of free weights and a pair of running shoes, both of which see regular use, that I bought on discount at Kmart.

Come to think of it, I'm so out of fashion that I actually shopped at KMart when KMart was around (encomium Blue Light Special!).

I'm so unfashionable that I wish city blocks were still laid out in nice regular rectilinear shapes so that you could actually find the house you're looking for, not these damned organic-looking cloverleaves designed so that John Q. Developer can squeeze one more McMansion in on the corner.

I'm so out of style that I really really hate those answering machine messages that aren't messages but cute little songs or, worse yet, actual songs that some moron recorded off the radio. I really don't need 50-Cent's advice on clubbing just to let a buddy know when to come in to work.

I'm so out of style that this whole reality tv craze has simply passed me by. I can't remember the last time I danced with the stars, tricycled across the saharan or had to ginsu fugu with a dull butterknife. Mostly I think it's stupid. Occasionally I think "this too shall pass". More to the point, I despise this fascination with personal degradation and humiliation.

I mean, the reality of "reality television" isn't about the contest or the characters; no, it's about the desire to see the worst types of petty human behavior imaginible. We don't really thrill to listen to Clay Aiken or Carrie Underwood but to see and hear the legions of talentless bellowing harpies. 'Skating with Celebreties' is at least as much about seeing stars hit the ice as watching them soar above it. I mean really - why did you watch 'The Simple Life'? Was it to see a diverse and fascinating cross section of middle america...or to see two rich bitches slumming through hicktown humiliating themselves and everyone they met?

Oh well. Style has a way of coming around. Bell bottoms are back in. We're 'keeping all options on the table' to prevent a middle east country from getting WMD. David Hasselhoff will once more star on Baywatch. Maybe, just maybe, if I wait long enough things'll come back my way and the things I like will be back in style again.

On the other hand, 'dead as Dillinger' has a certain truth too.