Skip to main content

Travelin' Clothes. . .

Not my photograph, but it provides a useful illustration for today's post.  If it is yours, and you would rather that I not use it, just leave a (polite) comment, and I'll remove the photo forthwith.  


This last week, which was Spring Break Week, was to have included a jaunt down to Pinehurst, North Carolina to visit good ol' Mom and see the new digs --  just off Pinehurst Three -- that she and Step-Dad purchased late last summer.  Alas, my mother had a rather serious health scare just prior to our convergence at Raleigh-Durham International.  

Although we both made it from our respective points on the globe and spent the week together, the general mood was rather less lighthearted than might otherwise have been the case.  Still, things are in hand at the moment, and while I have had to return home for the start of classes on Monday next week, my sister has driven down from Washington, D.C. to help our mother navigate a series of further medical tests that will lead to an eventual course of treatment and path forward at the start of next week. 

Which brings us to the focus of this particular blog entry.  How one looks still matters when it comes to how others perceive and interact with you.  Goldman-Sachs' recent move toward a more casual workplace notwithstanding, you cannot go wrong with a blazer, oxford cloth button-down shirt, creased khakis, and penny loafers for air travel.  

I cannot begin to describe the better than average treatment I met everywhere on both legs of the trip.  And I'd like to think that the fact that I was dressed just a little bit better than every other schlubb with his or her posterior/stomach hanging out for all to see regardless of age had something to do with it.  Ticketing agents, TSA people, gate agents, and flight attendants all went that extra little distance, something they are not required to do by any means, as I made my way from Michigan to North Carolina and back again.  The difference was difficult not to notice, yet people get angry at those of us foolish enough to point out things like this. 

While it is clearly no longer necessary to pull oneself together for air travel, and most do not even when representing their company on the road (I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of working aged men in sports jackets or suits who I noticed during this trip), dressing better than you absolutely must cannot hurt.  It's just one of the many ways to grease the wheels of social interaction in our otherwise slovenly era.

The convenient thing about about the navy blazer-OCBD-khaki-penny loafer combo I describe is that it is easy to kick things up a few notches for more serious business.  I packed two neckties, two extra OCBD shirts, and two extra pairs of predominantly navy dress socks, both of which came in handy for meetings with Mom's attorney in Pinehurst and several doctors.  

I have found over the years -- and don't forget I once dressed the part of a big-haired, denim clad, working class rocker masquerading as a forklift driver -- that so called professionals interact differently with you when you are dressed and come across like you have education, polish, and sophistication of your own to bring to the table.  Having been on both sides of the sartorial and cultural fence, and having life experience as both an "anywhere" and a "somewhere," the difference is tangible like it or not.  Dressing a cut or three above everyone else makes a difference.

-- Heinz-Ulrich

Comments

Popular Posts

Up North Style. . .

Bad Dad makes a friend. YMP and Bad Dad on the shores of Lake Michigan.  Or was that Crystal Lake? The Grand Duchess takes a selfie in her kayak. How NOT to impress the girls sunning themselves along the river. YMP and Bad Dad kayaking on the Platte River headed toward Loon Lake.   J ust back from a week in Northern Michigan in a charming and spacious house on the banks of the Betsie River outside of Thompsonville.  A largely pleasant seven days despite some challenging episodes with the Young Master, who has picked up some very questionable habits and language from his friends in the 8th Grade during the school year just ended.  But otherwise, we enjoyed ourselves and contemplated remaining for a few days longer since the house was available.   In the end, we decided to return home as planned originally since neither my wife, nor I wanted to spend the remaining days chained to our computers in Zoom meetings from our vacation destination.  I actually managed to leave the laptop and ip

Mid-June Thursday Style. . .

    A nother pretty typical variation on the theme for late spring, summer, and very early fall.  I'm a huge fan of Madras and have several such shirts in the seasonal rotation.  Lightweight, exceedingly comfortable, and even dressy when pressed and tucked in, which is the usual way of things here at Totleigh in the Wold.   Now, if I had my druthers, I'd still rather be skiing the trails in the upper half of "The Mitten" (of Michigan), in the Upper Peninsula, or Ontario.  But summers ain't so bad either, and I'd look pretty funny walking around in cross-country ski attire during June. -- Heinz-Ulrich

A Lazy Saturday at the End of June. . .

  A sleepy first half of the weekend here at Totleigh.  Warmer and quite humid ahead of an approaching cool front here in Mid-Michigan.  Perfect for yet another pair of chino shorts an a seersucker shirt -- tucked in of course -- with the usual leather deck shoes and ribbon belt.  Otherwise, not much accomplished beyond a page or so of writing and monkeying around with audio settings for an upcoming podcast episode.   However, I was not completely useless yesterday!  I made a huge fruit salad for dinner, which the Grand Duchess and I enjoyed a short while later at the table on the back porch.  The Young Master, as is his wont on Saturday evenings,  took his dinner on a tray in the TV room upstairs where he whiled away a couple of hours on Flight Simulator, flying some sort of commercial airliner to some destination across the Atlantic or Pacific.  I would have loved that sort of technology at about nine or 10 way back during the late 1970s, aka The Stone Age.  As it is, my sister and