You used to care about your clothes

The same thing happened every August of my childhood. The first two weeks were still summer: the pool and beach, baseball and camping.

But sometime around August 15, my parents started talking about school shopping.

Moms are the ones who make you put on the jeans, walk out of the dressing room and stand there on display while they get on their knees and yank at the waist to see how much room you have.

It was an ominous sign that summer was almost over, a reminder that school was approaching. Dreaded school. Hated school. After consulting with each other, my father and mother would meet on a certain day in the coming weeks. We woke up and my parents reminded us to eat a good breakfast because “we don’t eat at the food court.” We all packed up the car sometime after breakfast and made our annual trip to the mall to do some school shopping.

Nice pants

Back-to-school shopping was an all-day affair. We would be there around 11am. We had to buy jeans, some boring nice pants, shirts, shoes and winter coats when we outgrew them.

Sometimes my brother and I would split up and go with my dad looking for clothes—the easy stuff: socks, underwear, vests. My father was not a clothes hound. He never spent five minutes inspecting the waist of our jeans to make sure they actually fit properly or are the right length.

Moms are the ones who make you put on the jeans, walk out of the dressing room and stand there on display while they get on their knees and yank at the waist to see how much room you have. Pulling at the fabric and pulling up the jeans, embarrassing yourself in front of random people walking by. You’ll never see them again, but you were always so ashamed. “Mom!”

Malaise in the mall

Fathers generally just want to get out of there. Or so my father was. He was afraid to go to the mall to do school shopping. I would say that walking around the mall waiting for my mother and sister to finish what they were doing was one of the things my father hated. But for us kids it was a great day. School shopping at the mall was probably the only thing that made going back to school somewhat bearable.

School stinks. Who wants to sit at a desk again after being outside all summer? No child in their right mind wants to be locked in a classroom while the sun is still high. Resting your head against the smooth painted concrete wall, feeling lost, staring at the bright green grass calling to you through the closed window. Let me out!

Carnival of shoes

But getting new clothes was nice. It made going back to school worth it. It felt like this year you had the chance to be a new person. I imagined how different my life would be if I had cool new skate shirts from World Industries, real JNCO jeans (I always had knockoffs from another brand – the leg opening was never that wide), and a pair of skate shoes. they were much more expensive than what I got last year.

Shoe Carnival was a highlight. Walking back and forth through the aisles, dreaming about which pair of shoes I would get. The really expensive ones were never an option. Ultimately, I figured out that I shouldn’t even try. I would ultimately select a few options. My mother was coming over. I put on a pair and she walked me down the aisle and then back again. She studied the way I walked like an Olympic judge.

She did this, of course, while the Schoenencarnaval employee stood by and watched. Then she took her thumb and pressed the tip of the toe to make sure I had enough room to grow over the next year. She pressed hard three or four times, handling the shoe with concentrated judgment.

It was so embarrassing. But why exactly? In what world is a twelve-year-old allowed to pick out his own shoes without his parents taking a second look? No world. But when you’re twelve, you want that to be your world.

Natural fit

Children are excited to get new clothes for school because they are new things and children like to get new things. But children also love their clothes. They may not openly talk about the clothes they like; they prefer to talk about the clothes they don’t like. They don’t necessarily have the language at their disposal. Yet they have an opinion about their clothes and they like it when they get new clothes.

It’s true that they don’t like them as much as we do. They don’t care about fancy quality or anything particularly sophisticated. They just want a cool looking shirt. But they do take care of it in their own way.

It’s normal to care about your clothes. Children, in good times and bad, are an example of us humans in a pure and natural state. But slowly we grow up, and many start to resent their clothes. Many guys end up seeing clothes as a burden instead of a blessing. They don’t like thinking about it, and they don’t get too excited about it. If they get excited about it, they certainly won’t show it.

In short, boys have problems with their clothes. They need clothing therapy. The natural state of man is not one of resentment towards his clothing, but of pleasure and interest. Children show us that.

It’s funny to reminisce about those days at the mall before the first day of school, but there is also a deeper lesson in these memories. Of course, we think it’s important how we look. We want to cultivate a personal aesthetic. Deep down we want to enjoy our clothes.

For the guys who have built wall after wall to protect themselves from caring for their clothes, it’s okay to let go. It’s okay to remember a time when you were so excited about the jeans your mom bought you for school. Or how you were looking forward to wearing those cool new shoes that first day. How secretly you were excited to show them off. It’s not embarrassing. It’s natural.