When are we done being cool? Is there ever a defining moment in one’s life when reality becomes so unwelcoming that there is no denying the truth? Is hanging on to being cool similar to denying male baldness and sporting the C-SPAN comb over? I know many people will say, “I never cared about being cool!” Everybody has heard somebody say that exact sentence or one very similar. That very sentence is an admission of their way to be cool, by not being cool. Did that make any sense? Everybody, regardless of what faction you choose to associate with, attempts to be cool. Even the kids perceived as nerds all the way through school had the nerd who was deemed their leader; as a result, he was cool amongst fellow nerds. Have I hammered that thought enough yet?
My last semester in college I paid a visit to my sister Emily at school, who was a senior at the time. To high school kids I was an old loser because I wasn’t rocking the Goth look or Smirnoff Ice on the weekends. I knew going in that I was not about to win any cool points so there was no pressure to maintain whatever image I had to protect. I had called ahead and worked everything out with the school principle who escorted me directly into Emily’s class. From there I began to smile ear to ear while asking Emily to come up to the front of the class and give her big brother a hug. Emily was hesitant as she walked up to me so I said to her, “I know how this looks Emily but I don’t care. I haven’t been cool for about 5 years.” Emily was beat red trying to pretend as if she didn’t care (her way of being cool), the girls in her class had their mouths open with their noses cringed like they just smelt a bad fart, and the guys pretended to not pay attention. It was hilarious and priceless but I still thought I was cool, despite what I said to Emily.
The reason behind the overextended introduction is I believe I had my moment today when I knew I was no longer cool. After I got back from the gym this morning, Celia and I decided to spend the day picking up a few items and doing some light shopping. Back while I was still in Iraq, we tossed around an idea of splurging some money and updating our wardrobe because it had been some time since either of us had bought anything new. That was when the first bell went off in my head. How long had it been since I really bought new clothes? I initially thought a year, maybe two at most. Which was partially true; I had bought a few loose items here and there but nothing drastic. I began to think about the pants I own, the shirts in my closet, and the shoes I have. Many of the t-shirts I have I purchased in college. I have a pair of pants I bought back in 2004 that I still wear despite a cater-size hole in the knee due to excessive usage. I have a pair of Doc Martins I bought my first semester in college, which goes back to the Ellsworth C.C. days. Just recently, Celia made me throw out a pair of shoes I bought prior to my first semester of ROTC, which would have been the year 2003. The best and most disgusting is most of my gym shirts were shirts I wore to the gym in high school. It’s sad isn’t it?
Once I realized that most of my wardrobe has been in my possession for multiple years I thought about two things. The first thing I thought about was a story I heard about Rick, a cousin on my dad’s side. I was not present when this happened but I heard the story from multiple people, so I hope to get the facts as accurate as possible. One year for either Thanksgiving or Christmas (it was a family gathering) there was a family slideshow presentation and a picture from about 5 years prior of Rick was shown. Everybody laughed, as people always do, when looking at old pictures and commented how Rick always wore the sweater shown in the picture. When somebody turned to Rick to comment about the sweater, the room burst into laughter as Rick was wearing the same exact sweater. It’s a funny, funny story; but if Celia and I had been back in Iowa for this past Christmas, and a slideshow was shown with a 4 or 5-year-old picture of me, what are the odds I would be in the same boat? I’ll set the over/under to 65%.
The second thing I thought about was my dad. I remember growing up seeing the same pair of shoes for years. The shoes were dirty, severely stained green from many years of cutting the grass, and they were extremely out of style. Every so often Dad would buy a new pair of shoes but as time would march on the shoes stood still. As my sisters and I grew older, we noticed how it wasn’t only Dad’s shoes that were old but so were many of his clothes. It is also of extreme importance to point out by this time both of my sisters and I had reached our pinnacle of coolness. We felt it was our inherent responsibility as children to give our father some newfound style in his wardrobe, a mini remake if you will. What transpired was roughly 3-5 years of my Dad receiving Christmas presents from Aeropostale that you would expect to see an 18-22 year old wear. Every year my Dad would graciously accept the gifts and my sisters and I would go on thinking we helped make Dad a little cooler. I would also like to take the time out of this blog to apologize to my Dad for those Christmas years. However good our intentions were in buying my Dad clothes I never knew the struggle older men face when picking out clothes, that is until today.
Celia and I set out to do just a little shopping but ended up buying a fair amount of clothes. We visited two nearby Air Force Bases here in Germany and neither of them had clothes that suited Celia’s style so she instead opted to get gym clothes. I went into great lengths describing my inadequacies in the closet but Celia is not far behind me. You see, Celia used to be the mascot for Iowa, she was Herky The Hawk. Because of her college stardom, she acquired a copious amount of Iowa Spirit Squad shirts and various other University of Iowa shirts. (Funny side story, Celia claims one of the best moments of her life was when Drew Tate threw the hail marry to beat LSU in the 2005 Capital One Bowl because she was there as Herky.) While those shirts may have been prized possessions in college that was a few years ago and well before she was Mrs. Romick and Mommy to Jadon and Hailey. Wearing t-shirts that say “Herky’s My Homeboy” just doesn’t cut it anymore and Celia knows it. However pathetic Celia’s closet is she was better off just buying gym clothes because the selection for women was awful. I, on the other hand, had better luck.
I started out picking out a few gym shorts because Celia made the disturbing statement of, “Do you have any idea how often I wash those two pair of gym shorts you have? Baby, you’re getting more shorts.” I had no problem picking out shorts to work out in until I saw the price, which was when the second bell went off. $35-$50 for shorts! I remember paying that price when I was younger but that was when I had no responsibilities and wore gym shorts as part of my everyday wardrobe. Now I’m a married 27 year old, father of two, who was recently promoted to Captain in the Army; I don’t think gym shorts are acceptable clothing four out of the seven days a week. I swallowed whatever rant was brewing deep inside me and bought a couple new pairs of shorts to work out in. Since I already mentioned the price of gym shorts, when did clothes get so expensive? I made it clear it had been some time since I did some serious shopping and in no way was I prepared for what I was about to see.
For the most part Celia and I found a few nice shirts that were an acceptable price. I then found a shirt that I thought looked good and got even more excited when I found out it was $15. It was so nice and cheaper than everything else I saw, it reminded me of finding a shirt with the tag on it at the goodwill. General curiosity here, but how many people have ever found themselves being cheap at a thrift store? Lord knows I have. I remember one time I had a handful of shirts that were $.50 and saw a shirt that was $2. I said to myself, “Who the hell are they kidding? Like I’m going to spend that much money on a shirt.” I’m such a cheapskate. Back to the shirt I found for $15. I excitedly showed Celia who shot it down pointing out, “You only like the shirt because it’s $15.” We continued looking for clothes so I could have some new attire for the new decade that was approaching.
As I showed more shirts and pants to Celia she politely kept telling me no until she eventually said something along the lines that sounded like, “Andrew. Do you really think that looks good?” It was an honest and good question; one I wasn’t sure how to answer. It had been so longed since I picked out clothes and was overwhelmed by the price of everything the only thing I could respond with sounded similar to, “Honey, I don’t know what looks good. You’re the one who has to be seen with me so you tell me what you want to see me in.”
As our shopping trip was ending I still had not picked up any new pants and was scared I was not going to find any I liked. Sure, there were plenty of pants in the store if I wanted giant logos, retarded patches, and the brand name plastered on every inch of fabric. Karl Kani was the brand that I’m referring to and when did it become cool to pay $80 for a pair of pants that ugly? What is so special about those ugly pants with patches everywhere? For $80 do they wash, dry, fold, and put themselves away? That is the only possible justification I can think of to spend $80 on a pair of pants. Imagine if I wasn’t married to Celia and was going to meet her parents for the first time and I’m wearing Karl Kani pants. That most likely is not the first impression I would want to make. I don’t think those kind of pants were in style back when I was cool were they? That there, the excessive logos, is the third bell that went off informing me that I am not cool. I instead found a pair of Calvin Klein jeans that suited me much better. Before I found the CK jeans, I tried on a slew of Levi’s that hugged my thighs and made me look like I had a wedgie. On our way out, I complained about how tight the Levi’s were on my thighs when Celia replied, “Well, that’s the style now.” Whether that is true or not it was reassuring to know that at least one of us pretends to know a thing or two about style.
The problem I have now that I’m 27 years old is how do I dress? I obviously can’t dress the way I did 5 years ago but in no way do I want to dress like a “middle aged suburban dad.” I’m to the point in my life where I have to dress with a little bit of class but not so lame I’m embarrassed to step outside the house. I never knew that the selection for men my age was so limited. I feel like I’m torn between two worlds. The one world is attempting to hold on to my youth and dress similar to my younger years in the 20’s, while the other side is dangerously close to a closet full of Dockers. With everything that transpired today maybe I’m not cool anymore; but then again what is cool? Being cool is not something tangible with a clear dictionary definition. Perhaps being cool is an acceptance of ones self with an attitude and demeanor you live your life with. Sure, my priorities have changed, the way I dress is slowly beginning to change, and how I spend my evenings has changed; but I still feel I’m living an exciting life. I’m living in Europe seeing the world, I think that’s cool. It’s a natural part of life the older you age you appear more lame and uncool to the younger generation; I’m 100% positive I’m to that point because my younger “cool” cousin Jenna reminds me all the time. What’s funny is I will be turning 28 in a three months (Oh my God! 28 is this year!) I feel I have a better understanding to what my dad thought when he received his Christmas presents all those years. What’s even funnier is that I would bet $1,000 that sometime down the road both Jadon and Hailey are going to attempt to remake their dad. I can hear the conversation already,
“God Dad you embarrass me with the way you dress. Why don’t you get some new clothes,” My appreciative children chime.
“Well Daddy’s has to pay for your college so corners have to be cut someplace!”
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