As I have wandered semi-aimfully through this life, I have taken on bits of knowledge which, when enough gather in the same subject area, form clusters, which then often unite and produce opinions, a select few of which become, after intricate product design and rigorous testing, personal theories. Each of these theoretical assertions represents the highest station to which any of my individual thoughts can aspire, so as you might imagine, the competition is fierce.
The latest to clear the gauntlet of baddies that vanquishes most on their way to theory status is as follows: Generally speaking (lots of my theories start this way), very rich and powerful people treat their fellow humans shoddily in small part because they spend most of their lives wearing uncomfortable clothing. A little background will provide clarity, it is hoped, so here goes.
This started with an umbrella belief system I’ve held as long as I can remember, to wit: the more comfortable a creature, the happier. Maybe that’s why they’re called “creature comforts”, I don’t know and stop distracting me. Originally, I thought of comfort in its fullest sense, requiring ample food and clean water, housing, safety, education, hope, and probably a few things I’m forgetting, to gain the comfort that allows people to relax enough to think about what they truly want for their lives. Not exactly ground-breaking thinking, but again, an umbrella belief system, not a specific theory.
Then one day, for no reason that makes any sense, I was watching a Trump cabinet meeting, and behind all the fake smiles everyone looked so impossibly miserable. I knew they were miserable mostly because they knew what they were doing was evil, something even souls as damaged as theirs could pick up on. But looking at Trump I had a minor epiphany: He’s a fat guy in a suit. That might not mean much to you, but I’ve been a fat guy in a suit, and it’s awful. I’ve been a thin guy in a suit too, and that also sucks, but it’s way better. When you’re a fat guy in a suit, your neck is pinched by your shirt’s top button and the diagonal-striped noose/penis-pointer for some reason Western society decided was how men should express their color palette on weekdays and at weddings. The late, great comedian Mitch Hedberg once said he didn’t like turtlenecks because they made him feel like he was being choked by a really weak guy. Wearing ties makes me like I’m being choked by a really weak basketball team.
You’re pinched even worse at the waist, as the bottom of your shirt keeps bunching up and you have to keep tucking it back in and pulling your pants up over your belly and god forbid you have to take a shit because then it’s like getting dressed all over again. But the worst of it is the shoes. Trump and his ilk spend way too much time on their feet in dress shoes for happiness to have a prayer of denting their fortresses of misery.
Until I walk a mile in high heels, I won’t presume any knowledge of what discomfort women of money and power experience daily, but I think I’m pretty safe in assuming it’s way worse for women than men no matter their size because isn’t everything? Heels and bras I’ll further assume are universally despised, as is everything else that must be worn and done to be an American woman of cabinet-level acclaim (certainly one can say same without the “of cabinet-level acclaim” and “American” part.)
So I’m watching the cabinet meeting, thinking how uncomfortable they all must be physically. Then I remember they all pretty much despise each other and are plotting the downfall of at least three people at the table on their way to whatever twisted holy grail they’re convinced god has ordained for them. So they’re angry, bitter, animated by hatred and revenge, and wearing the most uncomfortable togs anyone has ever overpaid for. Bad people made worse by bad clothing.
Now, I did say earlier that all my theories undergo rigorous pre-issuance testing. That was a lie. My preferred method is for research to follow conclusion; it’s way more exciting that way. Sure, science likes to prove its theories before publication, but that’s because they’re pansy asses who need federal funding. I have no such limitations.
And it turns out I’m right as Galileo on this one. It’s hard to know which is worse, the demonstrated negative effects of uncomfortable, restrictive clothing, or the awesomeness that comes with comfy duds. Studies show that tight togs increase abdominal pressure, compress nerves, restrict circulation, and can aggravate skin conditions by trapping moisture and heat. Wearing dress shoes daily can cause structural foot deformities like bunions, shorten your Achilles tendon, and lead to chronic lower back, knee, and hip pain. Even if your hat isn’t too tight, your clothing will mess with your brain too, with fun stuff like increased anxiety, loss of focus because you’re concentrating on how uncomfortable you are, and don’t get me started on what restrictive rags do to the neurodivergent among us.
Unsurprisingly, people in comfy clothing are more relaxed, more focused, make better decisions, and can go for a fucking walk at lunch without having to change their entire ensemble. I know people love to dress up and I’m not trying to yuck their yum, but save that stuff for going out and special occasions and heed the words of my son’s good friend Alex, who realized during work-at-home Covid, “Everything is better when it’s held up by a drawstring.”
Getting dressed is the first significant decision/action most humans make/take each morning, unless of course staying in bed is on the menu. What you wear can set the tone for your whole day, or at least until you come home and immediately rip it all off so you can put on your favorite sweats. I understand as a society we have agreed on a certain standard for “professional” clothing, but who says we can’t revisit/rethink societal mandates once in a while? Isn’t that how we got whipped cream cheese?
Think of what life would be like if people were allowed to wear what they wanted, at least at work. Might be a bit tougher on the ruling class, as anytime non-rulers get a sign their happiness is part of the equation, the established order quakes. Those idiots wear suits to football games, for fuck’s sake. I know change is hard, but I think we’d adjust, and I think we’d all be a lot happier. Then again, it’s just a theory.
