I long to return to a time when pajama jeans didn't exist. Also, fuck Jumpin Jammerz. Future historian-fashionistas (in the future it will be a hyphenate, mark my words) will mark the advent of the Snuggie as the point in linear time when western culture began circling the drain. Women used to wear beautiful hats; men, tailored suits and Italian shoes. They dressed for travel, theatre, special events. It was a world with pants. A world with skirts. A world with shoes. A world with standards. Wearing pajamas in public trumpets to the whole world, "I'm here, and I don't care if you take me seriously! So what if I look totally unemployable? I'm COMFORTABLE." Not bothering to waste the 12 seconds it takes to pull a pair of big-boy pants over your ass, zip them, button them, then following the whole Cirque du Soleil-esque round of medieval torture with a shirt sans-hood...well, it speaks volumes about a person's character. You're an adult now, and for the sake of decency and self-respect, put down the Cinnamon Toast Crunch and get yourself dressed.
I hope you don't mind if I get personal on your ass for a minute, but I love getting dressed. It's honestly one of my favorite activities in my day. I've begun to appreciate the Mad Man aesthetic more and more, and my expensive-but-witty graphic tees are slowly migrating to the back of the closet, making ample room for tailored suits, sleek fitted button-downs, and their ilk. I'm 28, and do not intend to be one of those 30-something gay dudes who wears pre-distressed jeans and askew trucker caps. It's time to clean up just a bit (though you know I still leave those first three buttons open when I want...). In this spirit of style, I propose the idea of a boutonniere. This sexy, somewhat dark, and gorgeous piece fits perfectly.
