Tie died

You know that scene in ‘Traffic’, where Benicio del Toro is selling out to the Americans, and they tell him ‘You should be proud of what you’re doing for your country’ and he says ‘I feel like a traitor’? That’s exactly how I feel every time I have to wear a suit.

My work rocks, and I usually just wear whatever I can yank, kicking and stinking, from the ass-end of my clothes-mountain. Activities such as showering, shaving and grooming are strictly optional, a privilege that fits rather perfectly into my ‘No Hygiene Til 30’ policy.

Until last week. On Friday we had some important meeting with some important executive dude, and a collar, belt and slacks were mandatory textiles. I spent an afternoon erranding in central Copenhagen, and this is the best I could come up with.

A few hundred viking-pesos later...

I spent most of the meeting feeling like I was part of some kind of live, boardroom Dungeons & Dragons, and the minute we were done, I bounced home, changed into some Essex-caliber track pants and resumed my spilling, drooling, K-Marting existence for the rest of the weekend.

How do people dress up like this every day?