Don't match, just don't clash
Afam
00:12:00
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| www.joblackcraze.co.uk |
The World has gone mad,
It’s left me quite sad.
I find it most abominable,
more than a little improbable,
that not a long time ago,
I knew what clothes to forgo.
Yesterday I knew what to wear,
But now that question’s up in the
air.
The question is a poignant one.
Grueling, not easily done.
In this world of several
passions,
how does one fashion his
fashions?
I took a small gander,
and saw over yonder,
dear Marc Jacobs in a dress of
lace.
I’d copy him but really I lack
the grace.
I’d feel a mess, a downright
disgrace.
More power to him though, he’s
got great taste.
I turned to my Scottish Brother
kilted on the hill,
But this too was incapable of
fitting the bill.
My legs felt remarkably bare.
My pores stood, constricting my
hairs.
The wool was far too scratchy,
It made my nethers itchy.
I scratched until I could feel no
more,
My buttocks were red, my scrotum
sore.
I turned again to the Arabian
knights,
Their garments were quite ill
suited for the night.
One night In winter I wore them
out for a bite.
But I ended up bitten by the
bitter cold.
I hear you ask, why no gloves or
thermals?
They made the get up look quite
abysmal.
Even though I had failed not once
but thrice.
I was quite determined to get it
right.
I looked at men in the
middle ages
And found them more dapper than
the mages.
Clad in a shirt, doublet and
hose,
I wandered the streets, quite
verbose.
All I got were funny looks and
glances.
Some even asked if I was dandy.
I decided then and there most
discreetly
No odd items of clothing would
ever grace me.
I stuck with the plain Bob and
Spencer,
And even shopped at Marks and
Spencer.
But this disagreed with my
attitude
I lost my muchness, my amplitude.
I thought to myself, “Surely
there has to be a way
To be individual without
appearing gay.”
An idea struck me like a gong,
I knew that I couldn’t be wrong,
I picked up a blazer of rust,
It made the sales girl sick with
lust,
I paired this with a bicycle of
yellow,
Aren’t I quite the fashionable
fellow?
I pulled on some shorts of pink,
Even brighter than the sink.
To silence the conservatives,
I did something unobtrusive
I slipped on a shirt of white,
I dare say I looked quite bright.
For the shoes, I didn’t think at
all,
I bought velvet loafers from the
mall.
It turned out that all I needed to know,
About looking like a chap in the know,
Was too ignore all thoughts of matching,
While somehow preventing clashing
I developed a mantra,
to steer me clear of all fashion palavers
Don’t match, just don’t clash.
Happy days,
Afam
