I'm No Fashionista

The gay fashion gene somehow slipped by me. Somewhat. I mean, you won't see me wearing a polo shirt with the collar upturned. No pants sagging low enough to allow my tightie whities air space.

But I loathe clothes shopping. The shirts are either too hideous for words, with color combinations that no self-respecting designer should have ever put together, or the size marked on the label doesn't represent the actual fit. "L" on a men's shirt should fit like a large. After trying on seven different shirts at three stores on Saturday, having difficulty sliding the button through the hole across my chest -- and sometimes even stretching the fabric to come within a half inch of the buttonhole . . . it's not as though by working out, I know have the chest of a Lou Ferrigno. For someone like me who's gone through the process of losing 20 pounds, going down in size from XL to L, it's disappointing. All that work for nothing, and I walk away from the fitting rooms feeling more and more like a failure.

Taking a closer look at the labels, I notice that not one of them was manufactured in the U.S., but in either China, Indonesia, India, Mauritius or Vietnam. Judging by those shirts, it seems that one country's "large", is another country's "medium". Americans tend to be a bit larger, a bit taller than the denizens of the countries manufacturing our clothes. Sure it's probably cheaper and more cost effective to mass produce a product outside the U.S., but I almost get the impression that quality control is a moot point. As long as the clothing makes it to market, and it's the hottest trend, people will buy it. Sorry, but I won't force my frame into a trendy shirt only to look like a stuffed sausage about to burst from its casing.

At least the Calvin Klein large fit like a large so I made at least one good purchase.

Image from Associated Content from Yahoo!.