Sharp Dressed Man

I have a bit of a phobia when it comes to buying clothes. If I strain my ears I can just about hear you shouting “but you always look so elegant Paul, so what’s this with problems about clothes?”. That was what you were shouting, wasn’t it?

Well you see the buying bit’s easy for me so long as I go early and avoid the crowds, but I just can’t bring myself to stand in line and collect multi coloured plastic discs with numbers on to go in to some tiny, manky changing room where I’m supposed to balance on one foot to try on my purchases and see if they fit. This leads to my wardrobe being packed with trousers that are too short, jackets that are too big, and waistbands that are too tight, tho’ I confess chocolate may have something to do with that last one.

What is it that especially puts me off? I don’t know where to start. It could be the actual plastic discs, which firstly look cheap, secondly are easy to misplace, and fifthly make me feel I’m back in kindergarten being taught to count. Or maybe it’s the frayed curtains you have to pull across before stripping down, knowing it’s a waste of time anyway as they hang half way off. Or perhaps it’s the stains on the carpet, the smell of sweaty bodies or just that I hate shopping so much that I want it over and done with quicker than a Madonna marriage.

Whatever the reason I never, ever try on clothes before buying, preferring to throw them in a basket and hope for the best. So now you know why I very rarely wear anything that fits.

I bought a pair of jeans last week and, after pulling bits of plastic and cardboard sizing off, threw them on this morning for the first time. To my horror I discovered that they are the low waisted type where you are supposed to have your flies down around your knees and show off your lower back tattoo and designer underwear. Nowhere on the label did it give a clue that I would look like Scooby Doo’s pal Shaggy in a nappy, so now I will have to go out and buy designer underwear to show off above my new saggy waistband.

These “droopy drawer” jeans are fine if you want to let everyone see your Dolce and Gabanna Y- fronts or your Armani boxers - but I don’t have any. My underwear is a bit like the Scotland football team, washed out and losing support, and my designer labels at the back read simply Medium or Machine Washable. On a cold day they also read Boy, aged 10 to 12.

I seem to be alone in shunning designers for my undercarckers as everyone else seems to be following David Beckham and wearing expensive knickers just for show, so I think it’s time for a change. I’m considering starting up a new underwear range that will invert the retail snobbery while still making people proud to exhibit in public. I want to go to the other extreme, miles away from couture pants and trendy logos. Sadly it seems you can’t yet buy underwear with the Primark logo embroidered on the waist band, or Matalan either, and TK Maxx hasn’t woken up to the possibilities either. So, I am going to start my own downmarket range called Boot Sale.

Imagine walking behind me as I proudly show off my new, swing low, jeans with my boxer shorts showing at the back with Boot Sale proudly on display. You’d think that I was a stylish bloke wouldn’t you? And, like all really tacky, cheap stuff, it will cost the earth. I’ll make them for a couple of quid, sell them to Harrods at a fiver and they’ll retail at two hundred and forty quid. With buttons at the front, I bet they’ll fly (pun intended).

In a similar vein I looked at the bags carried by women on the train the other day and found they’re all branded as either Bradley, Kipling or Timberland. So, if women are really in to showing off designer labels on bags then I’m going to launch a range called “Fake”. Someone with a sense of humour would surely spend a few hundred pounds on that wouldn’t they?

Meantime, until I can get my business plans drawn up, I’m off to buy new underwear. And no, I’m not trying those on first either!