Of all the life hacks I've learned to execute in my life, none have proven quite as powerful as the “solve my issues by reading self-help books” technique. By utilising this approach, I’ve tightened up a wide array of weaknesses, from dealing with anxiety to 100% mastering my finances to quitting smoking to understanding tax as a freelancer to whatever… you name it, there’s a book for that. Hence why, when I awoke the other morning in a cold sweat, suddenly acutely aware that I knew nothing about fashion, I promptly leapt upon the Amazon machine and clicked the button for this book, listed as one of the most popular titles available on the topic. Whew!
It arrived and, besides the monumentally daunting size of the damn thing, the most striking element that came with it was the knowledge that smart male attire has changed very little over the years. This fact stands particularly true in regards to the suit, which is all this (impressively proficient) author cares about anyway. And it makes sense! Because when you wear a suit, things get done. People listen to you, and that is the position held strong by this book throughout, as it spends half of its time preaching a history lesson on the suit’s slow development, then the other half demonstrating how to use this style of dress-up as an illusionary trick, deceiving people into thinking that you’re taller/thinner/heavier by selecting clever patterns and colours and size ratios. Hey, man. Why not be yourself?
It didn't take many pages before I realised that I was reading to the wrong book. It was miles away from what my interest whiskers whispered and my expanding boredoms yawned me into queasiness. The shapes of pockets, the number of sleeve buttons, the height of your collar, the ideal fabrics to wear for what season… my God, who decided any of this was so important? Hey, did you know you can fill eight pages about the correct way to display a handkerchief in your front pocket? Have you ever wanted to know the best suit to wear whilst horseriding? How much serious thought have you given to the length of your waistcoat? Truthfully, the only saving grace I found within this onslaught of materialistic fashion customs was the frequent reminders of the dialogue featured in American Psycho. I sometimes pretended I was reading that book instead. Much more entertaining! Far more dangerous.
So did I learn anything? Anything at all? Yes. I learned that suits are no joke. But besides that, I did pick up one very valuable tip: that all clothing should be treated as an extension of your body. Match the material to yourself in an attempt to always bring the focus back to your face. That's literally it. Wear colours that harmonise with your hair to frame your head. Never don accessories which detract attention from your features. Always opt for items that replicate the colour of your eyes or skin's hue or your rosy cheeks or whatever. Pop your natural assets. Contrast or complement, that is the entire nutshell key. This information totalled about a page of good advice which has since blessed me with at least one thing to think about. I shall be reevaluating my wardrobe accordingly, thanks.
In the end, I’m just going to accept that this side of style is not for me. The exact amount of centimetres between the trouser leg and the shoe buckle is not something I'm inspired by. I hate patterns. I like jeans and Converse. It all seems very expensive, doesn't it? Truth be told, I have zero eyes for this anyway. Even when the guide spelt it out with a before and after shot, I had no fucking idea what I was looking at. And while I can’t fault the thoroughness of this text whatsoever (it's too thorough) and while it’s certainly a good idea to train the mind to keep your presentation circulating, I honestly reckon I’ve learned more about my preferred type of fashion from Billie Eilish music videos. I tell you that I've read this book but it ultimately became an exercise in speed reading. And I can't speed read for shit.