The author with S.O., wearing the emblems of his favorite losing baseball team
This writer was reviewing some Internet sources the other day, which is to say he was scanning one of the fluffier portals and clicking on pictures of attractive women when he came across an article titled "Reese Witherspoon's Style Evolution,' a slide show which featured the star of "Legally Blonde" and "Legally Blonde II" and possibly even "Legally Blonde Again—Just Checking to see How Many Times You People Will Come Back to See the Same Movie" in photos of her various red carpet outfits over the years from the late '90's, when Reese started being a movie star, until the present day. The author of the blog, Katie Hintz-Zambrano, commented trenchantly:
"Although the Southern belle started out somewhat tragic (sic) in the '90s, donning pleathery jackets, go-go boots and maroon lipstick (although, weren't we all), by the early 2000s, Witherspoon became a consistent red-carpet winner"
So Reese was wearing clothes from the '90's back in the '90's, which would be so wrong if we didn't have pictures of her wearing this year's clothes, proving that she's fashionable after all.
The sense of relief that washed over this fan at that news was more overwhelming than if he'd read an article about global warming being canceled, but it caused him to start thinking about his own style evolution, or anybody else's, for that matter, and how his fashion slideshow would pan out.
First off, the author seldom gets photographed on red carpets. He is photographed mostly on trips to fish in Mexico, surrounded by other drunken guys wearing sunglasses. Shirtlessness abounds. This is because the weather is warm, not because many of us look good with our shirts off. Also, Reese and the other movie stars get a chance to turn their backs to the camera and then swirl around Vogue-like for maximum on-film glamorousness. When the author has his back to the camera, it is because he is trying to urinate off the side of a panga. He would prefer not to be photographed then. A cursory review of his most recent vacation thumbnails proved he does not always get that wish.
When non-Mexico pics are reviewed, it is fairly obvious the subject owns too many plain polo shirts, and furthermore feels that they are adequately formal for any occasion upon which he might be photographed. Although there are many styles of striped, checked and patterned polo shirts out there, the author apparently thinks wearing one entails too much fashion risk.
While documenting his own style evolution, the author came across many pictures of his son, who will tell you unhesitatingly he is far more fashionable than his father. His thesis is not supported by the evidence. From about the age of fifteen, when he stopped wearing anything his mother bought him at an outlet mall, he's worn stuff with skulls and flowers on it. Sometimes just skulls. Never just flowers.
The author's brother in law, also visible in many photos in the author's possession, does not have a style evolution, since he has worn the same style flannel shirt and pocketed t-shirt every single day since he was discharged from the Navy in 1979. He is one of those guys who even wears the same size shirts he wore in 1979, even though he is not the same size as he was then. A time-lapsed slideshow would show him expanding and straining against his wardrobe like a slow-grilling sausage trying to sizzle through its skin.
Prior to 2005 or so, the author took pictures with a regular camera and had them printed out at a drug store, the same as everybody else. Nowadays he takes pictures with a digital camera, uploads them to his computer and never prints them out at all, the same as everybody else. He had to go to a dusty box to obtain photo images of himself prior to his second-most important fashion decision ever, i.e., the decision to shave off his mustache in 1997. Originally scheduled for 1996, the mustache demolition was postponed a year when the author's then boss, who also sported a long-term mustache, showed up for work clean-shaven, prompting this writer to keep his stache for another change of seasons, for fear of being thought an imitative kiss-ass. The mustache had been in place since the author had been able to successfully grow one, back in the seventies. Originally conceived as an aid to the purchase of liquor while underage, it had (sadly) long outlived that purpose and survived as a hairy hanger-on by sheer inertia.
The author's decision to eliminate all head hair, circa 2007, has to rank as his most important fashion milestone. The decision was generally well-received. His appearance after shaving his scalp was hailed as similar to several show business figures, namely Michael Chiklis (many observers) Bruce Willis (several) and Uncle Fester (only one). Contrary to what some observers claim, the hairstyle this writer sported prior to his emancipation from cranial hair altogether was not a comb-over, although admittedly the prevailing winds often affected its appearance negatively, depending on their strength and direction.
As nearly everyone who has gone from nasty fringe to noble unadorned pate has noted, women prefer the latter look. Also street intimidators, such as aggressive panhandlers and packs of youthful loiterers now assume the author is a retired SEAL rather than an insurance agent, and so he gets less attention from them.
The women are the most important thing, though, and the author's present Significant Other is a beautiful exemplar of her gender, and also a lady of deep, documented intelligence and sparkling wit. She says this writer is her first bald guy, and so far she seems content with the genre.
The problem is she wants the mustache back.
"Although the Southern belle started out somewhat tragic (sic) in the '90s, donning pleathery jackets, go-go boots and maroon lipstick (although, weren't we all), by the early 2000s, Witherspoon became a consistent red-carpet winner"
So Reese was wearing clothes from the '90's back in the '90's, which would be so wrong if we didn't have pictures of her wearing this year's clothes, proving that she's fashionable after all.
The sense of relief that washed over this fan at that news was more overwhelming than if he'd read an article about global warming being canceled, but it caused him to start thinking about his own style evolution, or anybody else's, for that matter, and how his fashion slideshow would pan out.
First off, the author seldom gets photographed on red carpets. He is photographed mostly on trips to fish in Mexico, surrounded by other drunken guys wearing sunglasses. Shirtlessness abounds. This is because the weather is warm, not because many of us look good with our shirts off. Also, Reese and the other movie stars get a chance to turn their backs to the camera and then swirl around Vogue-like for maximum on-film glamorousness. When the author has his back to the camera, it is because he is trying to urinate off the side of a panga. He would prefer not to be photographed then. A cursory review of his most recent vacation thumbnails proved he does not always get that wish.
When non-Mexico pics are reviewed, it is fairly obvious the subject owns too many plain polo shirts, and furthermore feels that they are adequately formal for any occasion upon which he might be photographed. Although there are many styles of striped, checked and patterned polo shirts out there, the author apparently thinks wearing one entails too much fashion risk.
While documenting his own style evolution, the author came across many pictures of his son, who will tell you unhesitatingly he is far more fashionable than his father. His thesis is not supported by the evidence. From about the age of fifteen, when he stopped wearing anything his mother bought him at an outlet mall, he's worn stuff with skulls and flowers on it. Sometimes just skulls. Never just flowers.
The author's brother in law, also visible in many photos in the author's possession, does not have a style evolution, since he has worn the same style flannel shirt and pocketed t-shirt every single day since he was discharged from the Navy in 1979. He is one of those guys who even wears the same size shirts he wore in 1979, even though he is not the same size as he was then. A time-lapsed slideshow would show him expanding and straining against his wardrobe like a slow-grilling sausage trying to sizzle through its skin.
Prior to 2005 or so, the author took pictures with a regular camera and had them printed out at a drug store, the same as everybody else. Nowadays he takes pictures with a digital camera, uploads them to his computer and never prints them out at all, the same as everybody else. He had to go to a dusty box to obtain photo images of himself prior to his second-most important fashion decision ever, i.e., the decision to shave off his mustache in 1997. Originally scheduled for 1996, the mustache demolition was postponed a year when the author's then boss, who also sported a long-term mustache, showed up for work clean-shaven, prompting this writer to keep his stache for another change of seasons, for fear of being thought an imitative kiss-ass. The mustache had been in place since the author had been able to successfully grow one, back in the seventies. Originally conceived as an aid to the purchase of liquor while underage, it had (sadly) long outlived that purpose and survived as a hairy hanger-on by sheer inertia.
The author's decision to eliminate all head hair, circa 2007, has to rank as his most important fashion milestone. The decision was generally well-received. His appearance after shaving his scalp was hailed as similar to several show business figures, namely Michael Chiklis (many observers) Bruce Willis (several) and Uncle Fester (only one). Contrary to what some observers claim, the hairstyle this writer sported prior to his emancipation from cranial hair altogether was not a comb-over, although admittedly the prevailing winds often affected its appearance negatively, depending on their strength and direction.
As nearly everyone who has gone from nasty fringe to noble unadorned pate has noted, women prefer the latter look. Also street intimidators, such as aggressive panhandlers and packs of youthful loiterers now assume the author is a retired SEAL rather than an insurance agent, and so he gets less attention from them.
The women are the most important thing, though, and the author's present Significant Other is a beautiful exemplar of her gender, and also a lady of deep, documented intelligence and sparkling wit. She says this writer is her first bald guy, and so far she seems content with the genre.
The problem is she wants the mustache back.
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