I had to go for my walk mid working day earlier this week. I’m marking and I thought my head might explode. I’ve seen the mess a pressurised cafetière can make in an enclosed space so went outdoors just in case.
I’d like to think that I wouldn’t pick on an individual or a group of people and comment adversely on their dress sense, but, I’m about to do just that. However, I don’t feel bad, these are mostly white men from the ruling class. The Elite, privileged, baggy short, nasty t shirt wearing knob class. If they should stumble on this blog, I can’t imagine they’d care what I think. If they do? They’ll just have to take it on the chin.
I passed johnson the younger on my way back from the park. He’s not the absolute lumbering mess that his brother is, but he, like many a privately educated boy, seems incapable of aesthetically acceptable casual dressing, acceptable to me that is. The plight of the private school twatmangle and casual dress was highlighted in the movie Four Weddings and a Funeral, played out by Hugh Grant with charm.
Inmates of these exclusive, expensive, educational institutions are obviously shown how to wear a suit, a dinner suit, black tie, white tie. They are apparently not given instruction on what to wear when off to the park. Unless they are given the dress code of, ill fitting shorts, ragged T-shirt, dark socks and trainers. Preferably the trainers his parents bought him for cross country running at school, 20 years ago. It’s a look that either suggests a post, headless corpse, car cleaning episode, as per Vincent and Jules or a public schoolboy who can only do formal. I don’t know why this gap in their education perturbs me, but it does.
I have to admit at this juncture that Cornflake struggles with the aesthetics of shorts, but, sports socks and good trainers save him from the above. Anyway, he’s more likely to look like an outsized kid from an estate than an upper class twit.
There was a time I might have volunteered some useful advice to these posh boys. I feel however that I may no longer be qualified to advise anyone about dress. This morning I chose my outfit by sniffing items picked up from the bedroom floor. I knew my standards would be under pressure in lockdown but this is a low that I hadn’t foreseen.
I would feel worse about this if I didn’t know that others are responding to lockdown similarly.
A teams video meeting was called with no notice last week, I can be free in ten minutes, came the response from a colleague. I learnt later that she needed the time to brush her hair and replace her pyjamas with actual clothes.
I thought I’d give a last piece of sartorial advice before retiring, take it or leave it.
For work meetings online, keep it neat. From the waist up, think BBC announcer in the 1950s, dinner suit for the boys, twinset and pearls for the girls. Waist down, anything that doesn’t smell, or nothing if you like.
fat tart 