'bout a sharp dressed man

They come runnin' just as fast as they can

coz every girl crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man

Today was an altogether different kind of day...

I went a shoppin' - not for toothpaste, toilet paper or tar paper. No sirree bob! I went hunting for clothes. Man's clothes. I'm talkin' socks, shoes, shirts, trousers, a jacket - the whole shootin' shimozzle.

Yeah, yeah. I know, I know. Who fuckin' died?

Well, you'd expect me to look half-decent at a funeral, a weddin' or some such thing but the truth is, I've never owned a fancy, stylin' piece of clothing in my life. Shock and awe!

Laugh it up, fly boy/girl. It's not that I don't appreciate the fineries as they apply to mens' and womens' apparel. I do! I truly do. Let me afford you an example of what constitutes happenin' haberdashery in my mind's eye:

Do clothes make the man, or does the man make the clothes? Some guys wear it swell... and I'd rather have a whisky, take some time to think about it, thank you very much.

Anyway, Wolfe and DK accompanied me up and down Robson Street today in a tireless effort to find me some duds for a job interview with a big bank on Thursday. Not my gig but 'business casual' attire is what we was after and Rick consented to help me out if I would agree to heed his fashion advice. Of course I humbly agreed to follow his lead. W1 helped pick out a couple fabulous plaid shirts for me 4-5 years ago and I've been in his debt ever since.

So I called DK to make sure I had some backup, should Wolfey threaten to take me places I simply could not, would not, perhaps even should not go.

DK and I met Wolfey at shop no. 1 on Robson. W1 was already in the change room upstairs trying on various garments because we were 5-10 minutes late. Pshaw! Truth is, we could have been there 15 minutes early and Richard would have been trying on clothes before we even found the bloody store. He's addicted to the cloth - plain and simple. Whereas I might have a stubborn streak that refuses to adorn myself in stylin' threads, Wolfe is my finely-tailored opposite.

Here's what worked for me/us today...

I stand outside and smoke a ciggy whilst Wolfey scours the store for ideas and bargains. DK either follows dutifully behind W1 or blazes a trail on his lonesome. If there's anything of remote interest, I enter the store and gaze upon selected garments. Wolfey then suggests I try something on, I grunt and moan, shuffle my feet and because he's doing me a big favour, I do as I'm told. I try it on, it fits, it doesn't fit, he likes it, I don't I like it, he cringes, I whinges and then we move on.

It only took 4-5 stores and 2-3 blocks before we managed to buy a great jacket, a great shirt, a pretty cool pair of shoes (square-toed units, TC) and a pair of expensive black socks by Kalvin Klein to match. Two hours and $350 later, the dirty deed was done. Despite the fact that I felt particularly ill near the end (due to a lingering cold, not obnoxious sales clerks), we completed the mission in high style and elevated spirits. Richard even bought a pair of skookum shoes (only $56!!) and Mssr. DK, a damn fine pair of trendy dungarees.

I went home, tried the whole mess on for good luck and the ensemble worked like a charm. A couple hours later, I photographed my stellar collection of (3) ties and emailed the digipic to Mr. Wolfe. W1 and neighbour Mr. Wanderoff reviewed the selection and quickly chose a suitable button-cover. Now, it would seem, I'll all set to impress The Bank early Thursday morn. Now that wasn't so hard... was it?

Stay tuned for pics of yer man in an entirely new state of splendour... you won't want to miss this episode. I think I might have grown-up a little bit today. A man can't hide his true self inside a pair of well-worn workboots forever, right?

Only time will tell... thx allot, gentlemen. It's a start!