The Fashion Statement

My dad has always had his own unique style. It’s the way he casually tucks in his shirt with no belt, the way he wears plaid and paisley together, the way he wears white socks and flip flops with the air of a man who will continue to dress that way until there is a no-clothes option.

For years my sister and I have struggled to find clothes that he was willing to wear on a daily basis that didn’t offend the fashion sense of almost everyone else on the planet and weren’t 3 sizes too big for him. We usually failed. But as the years have gone by and he’s moved across that invisible line that marks the place between ‘young and clueless’ and ‘old and eccentric’, we’ve begun to see the wisdom in his clothing choices. What once just seemed like an excuse to be asked where he was from has turned into a heightened sense of the practical. No matter where we are he is always comfortable, if not a little underdressed. He’ll repeat the same outfit for days on end but carry it with such a different style that you fail to notice. His baggy jeans never seem to wear out and his flip-flops are never really out of style. He also provides endless amusement for our family.

Shopping with my dad is a trip. He enters a store with the confidence of a man who knows what everyone needs and isn’t afraid to ask whoever is nearest for their opinion of your outfit. He also has that grim determined look that let’s you know he’s resisting all natural urges to run out the door and kiss the first patch of natural ground.

You always know when it’s time to go by the way he swoons on the waiting couches with an ill look and the struggling smile of a martyr. He always stays though, until the call is given to leave.

There has only ever been one item of clothing that my dad has actually asked for in his life, and that’s a kilt. For years we’ve searched in vain for a reasonably priced piece of tartan for him but we’ve always been unsuccessful. Even when we considered sewing our own, the cost of the fabric has always been astronomical. Even though the image of Dad wearing his Hawaiian tourist shirt with a kilt, white socks up to his knees and flip flops will forever remain one of our fondest ‘not-memories’ of Dad we’ll keep searching.

My dad has always had his own unique style. It’s part of what I love about him. It reflects his own beliefs and life choices. He understands the importance of wearing clothes and at the same time as he understands the importance of being a free spirit. Each neatly-gelled curl and rakishly tilted sock is a life-fashioning statement that will live on long after his clothes are gone.