What hurts isn’t when you see someone dressed in a wild inappropriate manner, or when they are showing too much skin, or when they just plain can’t match, or they are just too damn weird.
No, what hurts is when said subject dresses not quite up to snuff but you can tell that they are trying. They are really trying to be fashionable or presentable and it’s just not happening.
The man was really a kid. Probably right out if not still in college. His baby face gave his youth away. His clean-cut looks were aided by the close cropped hair and the lack of any facial hair.
For starter’s he was wearing black dress slacks that were double-pleated. Apologies to the sartorial gods for not intervening immediately, for the rules clearly state that if you are born past 1980 you are not allowed to wear pleated pants period. You are not allowed to wear pleated pants. Plus, his pants were not only cuffed but they ended at the top of his feet. Too short, two pleated.
On top of those pants? A pastel lime-green short sleeve button front shirt. And paired with that day-glo shirt was a bright yellow wide tie with an equally fat knot. No, he wasn’t dressed as if at a masquerade ball, he was dressed like he was on his way to a desk job or an interview.
The black loafers on his feet were polished and the dark dress socks were not going to be out of place in a standard Herman Miller cubicle. He was carrying a brown leather messenger bag on his right shoulder. It was a fairly worn light brown bag with the standard bronze hardware though his seemed to be crammed full – of what it wasn’t readily obvious.
To complete his look, gold rectangle rimmed glasses and the gold link watch on his left wrist, plus keys dangling from one of his belt loops.