Catching up!

Okay, so it's been a while since I've posted (I'm sure the two of you who read this were on the edges of your seats with anticipation of when I'd make my next post!).

I've been spending an awful lot of money on clothes and shoes lately. I do tend to be a bit of a clotheshorse. But I realized I needed some nice summertime shirts, and while I was at it, decided I could use a few pairs of designer jeans, shoes, socks, and it all kind of turned into a snowball hurling down a mountain... slow and small at first, but then gains velocity and soon spirals out of control.

I've only been a fashionista for a few years. It's not that I wasn't particularly well-dressed before then (far from it), but my wardrobe didn't have much variety outside of suits and officewear. For years, plaid lumberjack shirts and jeans were my fall/winter staples. I think two pairs of shorts and a few casual shirts were my summer "wardrobe."

All that changed when I got to grad school. For some reason, I figured I needed to dress to impress. So I slowly started to acquire casual sportcoats, jeans made from places besides the Gap, colorful casual shirts, and most of all, shoes.

You see, like most guys, I was able to get by with only a few pairs of shoes. I had a pair of dress shoes, one or two pairs of casual shoes, a pair of Timberland boots, and a pair or two of sandals. So I figure if I'm gonna spend all this money on a nice wardrobe, I really need to complement the look with decent shoes.

Now, as some of my friends know, I really, really do not like wearing shoes and socks. If I could go barefoot the rest of my life, that'd be ideal. But really, this isn't a very feasible philosophy unless you're self-employed or get to work from home. Now, if you take that into consideration, you'd probably think "okay, he's only going to get one or two semi-dressy and comfortable shoes," right?

Wrong! I think I now have over 25 pairs of shoes. Now 25 pairs of shoes for a woman might be considered self-depriving, but for a man, it reeks of excess. I can't even explain how this train started to careen out of control. I remember initially buying a pair of suede ankle boots. Years ago, I saw a nice, cognac pair of ankle boots (I think "Chelsea boots" is the formal appelation) in a Banana Republic catalogue. By the time I got to ordering them, they were completely sold out. So while I was tooling around on zappos.com a year or so ago, I found a near-identical pair. So I bought 'em. And then I noticed them in other colors. So I bought those. And then I thought to myself that suede gets dirty easily, so I should have at least one pair of nice leather shoes to go with a pair of jeans. So I bought a few pairs of Kenneth Cole Reaction shoes.

I swear, Kenneth Cole makes the nicest looking shoes that will kill your feet! I ended up getting rid of both of them because they were doing a number on my pinky toes. And I'd still try and jam my feet into them because, well, they looked really, really good! But then I found a brand called Zengara that looked like Kenneth Coles, but were half the price. Figuring I could spare $50 just to try them out, I took a chance. And they're surprisingly comfortable. So then I proceed to buy a few more in different colors and styles.

I think in this case the reason I'm driven to excess, at least as far as shoes go, is that I'm cursed with a size 14 foot (comparisons to how that translates to other parts of my body will be cheerfully entertained!). There have been a few instances where I've seen something I liked, decided I'd sleep on it for a few days, and then be completely sold out in my size. So now I figure I gotta get while the gettin's good!

On non-clothes-related notes: I stopped by Trader Joe's last Saturday for some beer. TJ's puts out a few beers under their own label that are quite good. So I'm coming back on the Metro, and when we pull into Rosslyn, several people get on, along with this hideous smell. It smelled like pure, unwashed funk. To the point where I'm actually getting queasy. The people who got on all looked like they were getting back from working out (a few had bikes), and then something captures my attention from the corner of my eye. Now to give you a point of reference, I'm sitting on one of the seats next to the doors that runs parallel to the walls of the train (it's called priority seating. Anyone can sit there, but if an elderly or handicapped person gets on, you're supposed to let them have the seat). There's a dude leaning on the plexiglass partition that separates the priority seating from the door, and it looks like he's leaning over.

No, wait, he's bending down and pressing his ASS AGAINST THE PARTITION. ON LEVEL WITH MY FACE!!! This fucker decides he needs to do a cool-down, stat, and the train would make a good a place as any. So Sir Douchealot is presenting his ass to me and stretching his hams, and I put two and two together: this is where the stank is coming from.

I ended up getting off one stop early...