WWCD?*

"What are you so dressed up for?"

That was the question directed...actually, hurled at me today. By a perfect stranger. Wearing a baseball cap, football jersey, and really baggy Umbros. Now, at the risk of sounding immodest, I'm not entirely unaccustomed to people commenting on how I present myself. But this was different: the tone wasn't complimentary, or even one of surprise; but accusatory. It's never happened to me before.

For the record, the ensemble in question consisted of:

A billiard green silk sport coat

A baby blue dress shirt; point collar, barrel cuff

A mocha colored silk tie with baby blue pin dots

A handkerchief of light green silk, with wide-spaced, medium-sized diamonds of ice blue and yellow

A pair of silver-grey silk mohair trousers

A dark brown alligator belt

A pair of dark brown glazed leather loafers

I must also hasten to add that I was dressed for work, and I am in something of a position of authority (at least, that's what I tell myself). Even though I'm not required to don a jacket and tie, it's certainly not considered inappropriate or unusual or, more to the point, conspicuously overdressed. I think ostentatiously overdressing for a specifically casual occasion is hideously tacky, but that's a whole other can of worms.

Anyway, I was really taken aback by the entire exchange. And, frankly, I didn't think I was particularly "done up." It was a snappy outfit, to be sure, but not formal. It wasn't even "traditional" business attire. Consider this candid shot of Mr. Cary Grant:

You can be sure that Mr. Grant considered this a casual (not sporty) outfit -- i.e., neither traditional business attire (read: a suit) nor formal wear.

I'm not suggesting that we'll ever return to the halcyon days when every man owned at least one proper suit and blazer; but it saddens me that our standards for ourselves and those around us have fallen so far. When I see people out in public, looking as though they were wandering around their own homes, in pajama bottoms, sweatpants and stained tee shirts, I can't help but inwardly scream: Why do you take so little pride in yourselves?!?! And, for God's sake, why do you have so little respect for the people who have to look at you?!

Let's look at Mr. Grant again, this time enjoying breakfast, at home.

Even though this was probably a carefully-staged fan magazine shot, wouldn't you like to think that Cary Grant dressed like this at home for breakfast? What's more, isn't it entirely plausible that he did? Even better, he makes it seem comfortable and effortless and not as if he were wearing a costume. And, hey -- even in 1937, the elegance and style of Cary Grant was aiming high for most mere mortals, but it was something a hell of a lot of Average Joe's aspired to. Who do men aspire to emulate today? Adam Sandler?

For those who decry style in favor of comfort, I present my final piece of visual evidence:

It's sporty, it's casual, and it looks so lusciously soft and comfortable, I can hardly stand it.

It never really occured to me until today, but I'm suddenly a radical, a rebel, an anarchist in silk mohair, and all for wearing a sport coat and tie and handkerchief. The funny thing is, if I had been sporting a faux-hawk, tight skinny jeans, a studded belt, and a shrunken blazer, the S.Y.M. (straight young man) who was seemingly so offended by me probably wouldn't have uttered a word.

But utter he did. And I just smiled and made a very polite, non-confrontational reply. Because, after all, no matter what the situation, I try to always ask myself, WWCD?*

* WHAT WOULD CARY DO?