...
I make my own clothes, when I have the time and fabric. >_>
*Falls to his knees in mindless worship of a superior being*Pics?
I just never took you as the designer shorts type. I assume this is the preferred wear on dacha visits? With burly men? Because the image of that is hilarious to me.
I am not crazy enough to wear designer shorts yet. The two pairs I have were made from old trousers.
But..those shorts looked horrible. And you say they're uncomfortable. Where is the logic?
And I buy pleb clothes. As in, no designer. My brother goes in for his labels, I simply do not care what I wear as long as colours don't clash, it fits me and isn't worn-out. I mean, I do have some designer stuff, but that's only because I liked how they looked more than any label they have, and my mother wanted an easy escape for a birthday present.
There is no logic. The whole #menswear community is a drug, to be honest, a massive extortion sceme based around artificially creating demand with propaganda. I am enamoured with it solely because I am a pathetically shallow excuse for a human being who uses it as a distraction from his neverending existential crisis.
First of all, bespoke and made to measure clothing is an entirely different story, but it's so exceedingly rare nowadays that we might as well ignore it.
For a mentally mature guy, like yourself, any kind of clothing will do as long as you like how you look in it and it covers your privates. The whole designer craze isn't worth it, really, as the price/quality ratio is significantly worse than at, say, Gap and H&M. Brands like Gustin are an exception, which is why I'm so hyped up about it, but in general, a white drugstore t-shirt and a pair of Gap jeans, provided that they fit, will make you look as presentable to the 95% of the modern society as a crazily expensve Maison Martin Margiela button-down shirt and Brioni chinos. People who go for designer clothing tend to invent numerous excuses why it's good, but it's almost never good enough to warrant the price they pay, and in the end, the real reason why people like me exist is obsessive vanity, a twisted will to power that, in ages past, drove men to wars and murders, to injustices and oppression, a narcotic desire to be better, or at least to seem to be better, a terrible, gnawing maw of unjustified pride that, before long, becomes the sole standard against which you measure your actions.
So don't worry, you are not a pleb in my eyes. You are an ideal my wretched soul will never reach.
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Topic: [MILK] There were 12 eggs here what did you do with them? (Happy thread?!) (Read 16253670 times)