My Outfit, Courtesy of The Women
I’m not a bad dresser. Some might even say my sense of style is what the young kids call fly. But how I came to this place — where my clothes fit properly and the color schemes I rock always favor my skin complexion and dark features — cannot entirely be attributed to me.
I must give credit to the women, the ones I have dated, who helped me open my eyes to looks I never saw, and faux pas of which I was not aware. Though I have never been the type of guy who needed a woman’s touch (or held hand) in a clothing store, I must admit, certain items in my closet I rock with a little more confidence because a woman from my past once told me, “That looks good on you.”
Such words can go a long way, longer than any woman can imagine, and in some cases longer than they should. Trust me when I say, there is still some man out there wearing a Malcolm X bomber jacket all because a girl passed him by on the street back in ’92 and said, “Nice jacket.” Men will do away with a lot of things that remind them of that special someone they used to date. They will never do away with the clothes she said she liked. Certainly I never do.
From a very young age, I dressed with one goal in mind: Get. Me. Laid. (I’m kidding.)
(Sort of.)
I didn’t care about being the best dressed. I didn’t care about making my clothes stand out. I just wanted to wear something one of my female classmates (or even a teacher because I had this thing for older women) would notice. I’d take “cute” or “nice” over “stylish” any day because, stylish to me, always required a little bit more than I or my mother could afford.
Speaking of Mom, I must say, of all the women to influence this sort of “dress code” I imposed on myself, she was the first. Since she was never the type of mother to dress her children and took to most of me and my sister’s wardrobe choices with indifference (just dress appropriately, she said), whenever I managed to pick something out she liked, I figured other women would feel the same way.
Still Mom’s indifference also had its drawbacks. Because these green jeans I used to have in sixth grade were “appropriate”, she never suggested I not wear them. That epiphany only came to me courtesy of my mean classmates who ribbed me endlessly for my denim selection.
Today, I no longer have such issues. I know what looks good on me, and it’s largely because a couple of women from my past took the time to show an interest in what I wore and how I looked. They were my co-pilots on my path to a head nod worthy sense of style.
A woman should never underestimate what a compliment on a man’s clothes can do for him. Take the least favorite item in a man’s closet. Get a woman to say something nice about it. Watch it become one of his top five favorite things to wear. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of outfits I wear solely off the strength of my own approval, and they do well for me. But when a woman says something looks good on me, I know I did especially well for myself.
In 7th grade, there was a girl I liked who said she liked it most when I wore my Kangol cap backwards. What can I say? It was the mid-90′s all the great R&B boy bands were doing it. But when the girl I liked said she liked them, it didn’t matter if they were out of style or not. I soon amassed a collection of them.
It is because of one of my ex-girlfriends, all of my t-shirts now have tags that say L on them as opposed to XL. I don’t know why I thought chicks dug 25-year-old men in baggy t-shirts, but I was definitely dating a chick who didn’t dig such things, so now all my t-shirts fit properly, and I have her to thank for it. She is also the reason I no longer wear denim shorts.
One of my favorite jackets is a gray military style number I copped from Urban Outfitters. Though I have received a few compliments here and there on it, the confidence with which I wear it all comes from the look this girl I dated gave me when I first took it off the rack. I tried it on, showed it to her, her eyes lit up, my debit card went down on the counter.
My new favorite pair of jeans comes courtesy of Uniqulo and the last girl I dated who approved when I tried them on. A big thanks to her.
On occasion, in the Fall and Winter, I wear a certain pair of dress slacks to church. They’re heavy, colored in dark gray, and lightly (very lightly) checkered tan stripes. I could lie and say I like them because of the way they fit, because the cuffs on them break just so at my shoe, but I’d be lying. The real reason I like them is because my last ex girlfriend complimented on them twice, in one wear. As we were walking down the stairs headed to service, I distinctly remember her saying, “I really like those pants, Jozen.” Now, I really like them too.
And of course, there are a number of other items in my closet I wear all because some girl, at some point told me she liked the way it looked on me. I have developed a deep appreciation for wearing ties whenever I go to the club. Why? Because ladies say, “I like your tie” as they pull on it, and I like when they do that. Also, I still rock hats (although no more backwards Kangols) on occasion. I have a good head for them, but also because every man knows when a woman takes his hat and puts it on her head it means she wants to sleep with him. Right?
Sort of?
No?
Okay, well it means something good but I digress.
Whether a man has the style acumen of Adam Rapoport or an extra in a rap video (hey, never underestimate the baggy white-tee and fitted baseball hat look, if ladies didn’t like such a look, so many men would not be wearing it), one thing’s for sure: Every man has at least one item in his closet he wears once a week, and it’s not because he likes it, it’s because a woman once told him, “That looks good on you.”
