Confessions of guilty pleasures

At this introspective time of year, I find myself wanting to confess some of my less admirable behavior… even for some of my so-called ‘victimless crimes’. A blogger I greatly admire used my name, along with the word ‘nice’ in the same sentence (and actually intended to relate the two), and I now feel honor-bound to reveal my true colors, so to speak.

In the privacy of my own thoughts, I have often taken a guilty pleasure in silently snickering (or as the Brits would say; sniggering) at the many fashion victims I encounter in my daily life.

In particular, I’ve noticed that Israelis either have breathtakingly beautiful taste in clothing… or are such shocking fashion victims that one is tempted to throw a tarp over them and say, “you poor thing!” That neither of these groups seem particularly self-conscious about their attire is sort of beside the point. If I were such a nice person, I probably wouldn’t take such guilty pleasure in noticing the chasm between them.

My wife is probably reading this and holding her sides from painful laughter. After all, in our dating days she used to shake her head at my shockingly poor fashion sense… once refusing to be seen with me on the Miami Beach boardwalk because I committed the fashion crime of wearing Bermuda-length khaki shorts, A blue oxford shirt, with a striped ‘rep’ tie. It is probably worth pointing out that I was not a schoolboy enrolled at Eton at the time.

Yes girls, when Zahava met me, she must have clapped her hands together and silently squealed, “project!”, because the alternative is too sad to contemplate… a lonely bachelor existence dressed in nothing but khakis and blue oxfords.

Of course, I still favor relatively conservative attire, but Zahava has introduced many other colors into my wardrobe… and many patterns (besides stripes) into my tie rack. And most important… she has opened my eyes to the fashion crimes being committed every day by otherwise good people. My crime in all this, and my confession to you all is that I can’t unlearn what I’ve been taught… and I’m powerless to look away.

Some of the blame for my behavior must also fall to a talented writer I follow who tipped me off to what seems to be the Olympics of fashion crimes; a web site called ‘Go Fug Yourself’. The thinly veiled profanity in the title aside, this site is surprisingly reserved and has a sidesplitting combination of fashion victim mug shots and scathing commentary from the host(s).

And, though I’m not proud of the fact that I (privately) sometimes make fun of the way other people dress… I would feel much less good about myself if I allowed someone I admire to continue thinking I am so ‘nice’.

There! Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, I can contemplate the new year with a clean(er) conscience.