By His Shoes

Everywhere you look in the world, humans like organization. Our grocery stores have food grouped by aisle, our department stores have things divided by purpose. When we shop for our vehicles the cars and trucks are separate and sometimes even sorted by color. Is it any wonder that we divide ourselves by look, style or purpose. We witness herds of people all looking the same with only subtle differences between them. This grouping, like all of our efforts to organize, is by choice. Our style, including those we surround ourselves with, says something about us and what we want people to say about us. Although we may be true to ourselves by putting on our appearance, we are none the less putting on a costume for the big show that is life. The costumes we adorn are chosen by our inner desires as much as they are chosen by cultures definitions of an image. Understanding that even the most heartfelt desire to be an individual is driven by an understanding of what the masses think is the first step to being comfortable with your individuality. I dress in my costume daily hoping to express myself as much as I can while at the same attempting to meld with society smoothly, however, there is an image I would much rather project. A Pinstripe suit cut sharp as a razor with a snap brim fedora accompanied by a black on white 1964 Cadillac Deville convertible lets the world know my love of a time lost and my desire for subtle luxuries.
Sadly there came a time that pinstripes were lost to the image of mobsters in silk suits and cheesy 80’s power brokers who wanted a deeper look inside to see if the books were cooked. Lost are the days that the pinstripe was the standard for a gentleman; a time where things were taken a bit slower. A time where manners, a firm handshake and your word meant something. There were no constant beeps of cell phones, people who wore earplugs known as headphones, or information saturation. A time where a gentleman always wore a hat and always removed it indoors. The pinstripe was a staple in these golden days of old. A pattern that was scene on every tailored suit and dimple fronted hat. There was a time when the question was not whether you wanted pinstripe but rather how wide you wanted them. A time where music spoke of love, losing your worries, and the value of honesty. A time of trust, loyalty, and community is what I long for. Pinstripes could be found in the closet of almost every man of society when these lost notions were common and expected. What would the world be like if we had just a bit more pinstripe?
The famous shield and wreath reflected in the mirror polished black paint of a 1964 Cadillac Deville convertible is the embodiment of subtle yet stated luxury. An automobile that was designed to take it’s time and let you enjoy the drive. A car that begged you to sit down, lean back, and relax in it’s bolstered white leather seats and enjoy the feel of hand carved hardwood under your palms. To bask under the sun or gaze into the starlit heavens while the top is down is a trip into euphoria. The classic sounds of the Rat Pack, B.B. King, Billie Holiday, and Hank Williams provide the soundtrack to your trip that doesn’t need a destination. With enough room to fit your sweetheart next to you and your friends in the back, but enjoyable enough to roll along on your own, it is a vessel filled with joy. It’s long graceful lines and classic style turns the head of all that witness it but does not create envy, just admiration. It speaks to the classic nature in everyone and is a label for the owner of his vintage nature. The polished chrome trim and whitewall tires says that the owner is meticulous and likes detail. Most importantly, I hope that like this black beauty I am uncommon.
Draped in classic pinstripes fitted just for me, topped with a perfectly shaped fedora, and surrounded by the gleaming black steel of my Deville my costume is nearly complete. Nearly I say because, as the musical says, you are never fully dressed without a smile. The happiness I find in my costume is the mask on my face. A smile from ear to ear as I experience the joy of being me. Society and culture may look at me and my outfit and say I don’t fit, and maybe they are right. I know, however, that I don’t have to fit and that each person that sees me has a desire to express themselves as well. That my long, low caddy and antique stripes may spark a desire to be a little closer to ones self is another benefit of being an individual. History has lessons, for me it taught me style, lost principles, and the person I want to be known as and remembered to be.
Departments, aisles, sectors, groups, cliques the list goes on and on and we as people invented them all. We like to belong and we should. I hope to be known as an individual but I still know I am falling into one of cultures categories. A vintage Cadillac and classic pinstripes may be the image I wish to express but I know there are other avenues. Through my actions, my friends, and my reputation I can project the same message my costume would. We find comfort in our daily costumes and comfort in the familiarity of the group we belong to. The costumes we wear may be an attempt to define ourselves as well as fit into cultures definition, but, our actions speak louder than the words of our clothing.