Midwest Memo
All dressed up
by Alan Shultz

Ablack walnut tree didme in the other night. Well, it did in one of my nicest blue longsleeved business shirts, that is.

Splat!

I didn't feel the hit, just saw the evidence the next morning. My better half confirmed the source of the unmistakable offending spot.An innocent conversation in the evening under a walnut tree and there goes a dent in my wardrobe. Even on sale, a nice dress shirt costs a good $49.99, plus tax. And that assumes they have my size which combines fat neck with short arms. Had that splat hit my shoes, instead of my shirt, it might have actually improved the look - I've been needing to get the shoe shine supplies out for weeks.

Frayed, stained, worn, wrinkled, I've noticed of late that I'm due to spend a little quality time in the mens' furnishings department at the big store in the mall.

Several unrelated factors have combined to bringmy wardrobe to critical mass.

First and foremost, I hate clothes shopping. I don't know what it is about the activity, but I get restless just thinking about adding to my wardrobe. The actual doing is far worse so I do as little clothes shopping for myself as possible.

My avoidance of shopping at every turn leaves my actual clothes inventory pretty scant. When I have to retire something like a dress shirt, well that's not done casually. I do the whole "can I wear it under a sweater" routine in hopes of saving some flawed item. The problem with this solution is that inevitably I appear in public wearing apparel not fit for prime time alone, yet I've forgotten to put on the companion piece that conceals the flaw.

In addition to overuse due to lack of reserves, my wardrobe gets abuse from the washer in our laundry room and the drycleaner that I frequent.

Simply put, and without exaggeration, our washing machine ties all our clothes into knots. Jeans and pullovers, boxers and briefs, socks and sweaters, our washer takes every other item and ties it into a solo ball, or combines it with something else to produce a mingled, mangled mess.

Oh sure, I separate and unknot the washer's mischief, but once these tortured items are put in the dryer they've got extra age on them.Also, after the knotting process, the clothes are highly unlikely to spring forth fromthe dryer looking wrinkle-free.

What the washer doesn't knot, the dry-cleaner wears down.

The collars and cuffs to most of my shirts and pants are worn and frayed, the casualties of too much starch and too little tenderness. Those commercial steam irons take their toll. So things are still coming back from the cleaners crisp and clean, but each visit for some favorites seems like it may be the last.

My fashion forward son tells me I try to extend the life of my clothes way past their intended toss date. But I like familiar and comfortable in most things, particularly in clothes.

I'm also slow in incorporating

a new item into my wardrobe. I like to let the new pieces settle in and age a bit in my closet or dresser. The rest of my family finds this odd. They make predictions on when a Christmas gift will actually be worn in public.

I like to think of myself as cautious when it comes to new clothes. I suppose that's because when I actually drag something new back fromthemall it's usually wrong for a number of reasons. Mostly, my shopping errors come from too little investment in time in the endeavor.

I currently have a pair of never worn Dockers pants hanging in my closet. They're brand new, yet two years old. The label says they are 45%polyester and 55% cotton. I bought them because they look like they will last forever. My wife agrees with that prediction, but she says their long life will be because they are made from the same material as our car tires. She suggests that I not be seen in public wearing tires recycled into clothing.

I suppose I agree with her. But I know that a walnut would literally bounce off this apparel with no mark. Then again, our washer would probably explode trying to tie a pair of these pants in two.