Dressed to thrill

“Everybody’s crazy ‘bout a dressed man” or so the song goes. There’s a lot of truth in that statement, and I’ve often tried to put it to the test. I can remember attending a writer’s conference in Atlanta back in 2000. I can see why it’s called “Hotlanta” because it was exactly that, very hot and very wet. Everyday was well over 85 degrees, and it poured the whole time I was there. To make matters worse, the conference was at one of those motor lodges where you had to go outside to get to the lobby, your room, or the meeting and banquet hall. As a result, I dressed to stay dry and comfortable. Style was on the back burner for now.

As the conference went on, I wore mostly short-sleeved shirts, jeans or shorts and occasionally a pair of khakis. Of course I was neat, clean and presentable but not about to make anyone’s best dressed list. Then came banquet night when everyone would be replete in awesome splendor. For this event, I was more than ready. I’d chosen a decadent ventless four button, single-breasted suit with notch lapels, in a buttery shade of cream. My shirt was crisp white broadcloth, French cuffs, a point collar and a hidden button placket. The tone on tone stripped tie was golden and silky smooth. Balancing out my ensemble was a Kente cloth pocket square, adding just a playful splash of color. My socks were argyle woven in hues of amber, chocolate, cream and coal -- capped off with a pair of coffee infused kiltie loafers.

I resembled an African King (albeit in Western garb) on his way to a grand gala. As I approached the banquet hall, I was stopped numerous times by both women and men who were compelled to comment on my attire. It felt good, even though the first words out of nearly everyone’s mouth was, “wow, look at you!” It was as if I had been waddling around all week like an ugly duckling and suddenly emerged, transformed into a beautiful swan. I graciously accepted the accolades and continued on my journey. I’d sat side by side and interacted with the other authors for nearly a week and the topic of conversation was always about improving our craft or future projects. They were at times spirited, complimentary but they never ventured beyond business. However, that all changed when I appeared looking as if I stepped out of the pages of a

GQ and not like some baller on holiday. Women who I’d been trying to rendezvous with had dismissed me as just another writer, now they wanted to know my name and number.

I was a bit floored by their reactions because I thought this was a group of enlightened and creative intellectuals. I was the exact same guy they'd been hanging with all week and up until now, they never look at me twice. Now that I’d upgraded one aspect of my presence, I merited double-takes and more in-depth interesting discourse? I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised because it’s happened all my life, and I’ve made it one of the little behavioral study games I like to play on the unassuming. Since then, and even before, I’ve always tried to use my fashion sense to my advantage. When you look the part, the role is better played and the outcome will swing in your favor.

Being a well-dressed man is more than what you wear, it’s how you wear it and the attitude you bring to your ensemble. It all comes down to how well you pay attention to the details. You can have an impeccably tailored suit, custom shirts with gold collar stays, iced-out cuff links and some killer kicks; but if you slack off on the details, you’re not completely dressed. True fashion transcends generations, race and class. There was a time when all men, regardless of race or standing, took great pride in what they wore. You may have labored your skin to the bone for endless hours during the week, dressed in drab, greasy dungarees, heavy work shirts and steel toe boots, but on Sunday, the Lord’s Day, you broke out with the best. Everything was neatly pressed, your shoes were shined and if you didn’t top it off with a smart fedora, newsboy or porkpie hat, you were just half-steppin.

I’ve tried to keep in touch with most of the people I met during that steamy week in A-Town. We all reunited the following year in Dallas. It was even hotter there! I stepped up my game a bit, making sure that my casual wear was just as smooth as dress apparel. This time, the women remembered me for my writing and for my style, which was my intent all along.

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