"Occasionally Clothed" is an ongoing series in which Paul Beirne builds outfits for life's many occasions.
I don’t frequent the nightclub scene much these days. Part of it's the late hours, the overpriced drinks, the masses stepping on my shoes (THAT COST MORE THAN YOUR HOUSE) and the other part of it is the Agent Smith infinite-respawn army of dickheads in mallwear. When I do opt to “do it”, potentially “with no hands,” I like to break the mold with my own brand of craziness by wearing clothes that are, strangely enough, inoffensive to the elderly.
Shoes:
Okay, so maybe the ladyfolks can’t see your feet because it’s dark and the room is packed with balding desk jockeys in their beer-bellied, third guymester--stick with me though. You better believe when she has chosen you as a human scratching pole to bump her bottom blessings against (delicately takes highroad over scratching pole and “cat” joke) you’re going to want some solid footing. Picture yourself rodeo-riding a witty, articulate, self sufficient career woman from a good family, giving you the best that her p90x-toned core can provide in grinding sensations and you have to tap out because your square-toe, all man-made everything crapshoes go belly-up. What would her father think? You don’t deserve his gyrating little gem, especially not with those bowling shoe dress-sneakers. Put on some bench-made bluchers though, and the patriarch will gladly send you riding his prize steed off into the sunset.
Shirt:
You’re going to want to think outside of the box on this one. Luckily, the box is a Rubbermaid container full of magic tricks and cellphone holsters left in the bathroom of a third world fast- fashion producing factory. To go against the grain (of your precision-manicured stubble) here, go with the basics. Just think: by investing in a great white shirt, you can wear it almost anywhere from a nightclub to a funeral home, which if you play your cards right could all be covered within the span of a few hours. YO…wait for it…
Suit:
Personally, I like to wear a jacket for almost any occasion that calls for it. To me, when women come to an alcohol-soaked venue looking for hours of dancing, entertainment, and body contact, I heed the call of duty and suit up for the hours of selfless work I’m about to put in so ladies may enjoy the fruits of my labor. Dust off that black suit—you’re Batman in this bitch. Outside of a funeral home (which again, may or not be outside of your night plans. It's hard to say.) an evening event is acceptable grounds for this somber ensemble (ensombler?). A dark navy or charcoal sharkskin suit, where the wool has a hint of sheen is also a good way of setting the evenings tone. That tone of course being, “I wore these clothes to costume myself as a responsible man with an adult wardrobe, when in fact I am not because I plan to enjoy myself to an extent that disables me from gauging whether or not this night will end in a morgue. Now let’s touch bodies. Name’s Bruce Wayne. I own the place.”
Paul Beirne is a blogger and menswear enthusiast living in Washington, DC. Follow him on twitter here, or check out his personal blogging here.
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