My last post on here was about how my personal style has changed this year (it changes all year every year, so that's none too surprising) and I signed off by saying that I'd add more after more thought. That's odd isn't it? Or at least unusual. Not many men go into this depth, I'm aware of that. Thinking so much about my wardrobe and the image I project is just a hobby, after all. Let's leave the discussion about the healthiness or otherwise of this hobby for another day, shall we?
But why clothes? I don't think it's a stretch to say that I was looking for something to fill the gap that recovery from alcoholism automatically creates- obviously Laura provided that, but a wife is a little more than a hobby, or at least should be- and I had always been interested in clothes, but I'd been interested in lots of things and none stuck like this. I've had a few thoughts about it and wanted to jot them down here.
Mid-life crisis
Isn't it natural for a man in his thirties to think about his appearance or even, by the very act of not thinking about it any more, consciously make a decision about how he will appear in the eyes of others for years to come (slovenly, I imagine). It happens to all men I think, not necessarily as they turn thirty but in my experience that's a pretty common time for it to happen. I stopped drinking just over six months shy of my thirtieth birthday and so there's a natural coincidence there. Allied to this I had dressed in a way which invited attention- eye-catching haircuts, clothes which accentuated my skinniness, that kind of thing- which I would be less comfortable with sober. It was natural that I would focus a little on clothes, on the image I project and the expectations I create during the natural 'reinvention' that comes with trying to conquer alcohol addiction.
Challenge
Being such a small, slim guy I have always found it hard to dress how I wanted because the clothes available to me are, in general, ill-fitting in even the smallest size or else designed for children. This makes buying clothes a challenge. It is hard work even now with the internet and something in the region of 200 bookmarked sites, so spending months looking for an inferior version of a coat I half-remembered seeing in a video when drunk was clearly something of a challenge and I think that, given my appetite for the difficult, the challenge managed to turn shopping for clothes into an obsession. Even now I'm frustrated in my search for an ice-blue fly-fronted rain mac- it may not even exist, y'know! But I'll keep looking.
Identity
This relates back to the things I said above about 'the image I want to project'. For someone who has never been in the middle of an addiction, it is impossible to understand that you become the habit. I was a drunk, that was my identity and my purpose. It was how I was recognised and, moreover, (this will sound mad, but I swear it is true) how I wanted to be recognised. Your illness which, to everyone else is a weakness, becomes a badge of honour. We see this phenomena replayed everywhere from the playground bullying of swots to pasty white supremacists running scared of big black boogeymen. I understand how mad it is now because Laura wants to be ill with anorexia, she wants to appear ill and for people to tell her that she looks shit. It is mad and creepy and horrible, but let me assure you that when it happens to you it makes perfect sense. And, of course, forfeiting that identity by giving up drinking leaves one rather exposed and scrabbling around on the floor for anything to hide one's naked shame. I chose clothes, sensibly enough. And now I am identified through my clothes to a large extent and it becomes self-perpetuating. Because I push the envelope I have to push the envelope.
I wouldn't have it any other way. It's better than being known as a drunk anyway.
