Slacker Chic

What is it about L.A. that turns people into slackers?

When I was a freshman in college my roommate and I would get dressed up in suits and aviator shades, (or as we called them, Asshole Glasses.) every Thursday and act like assholes. We weren’t trying to be dicks to people, but there was just something about dressing well that made us feel superior to the frat boys in their Abercrombie faux vintage tees and distressed cargo pants. Those Thursdays were, of course, just a college version of playing dress up, when you used to put on dad’s shoes and suit coat and pretend like you were a grown up, but it was something that carried over to the rest of my week, and the rest of my wardrobe. I was broke 90% of the time, but I still managed to look nice. I actually IRONED my shirts every morning. My general uniform was a button down shirt, a pair of jeans, and a pair of beat up old dress shoes, but I took the time to shine them once a week so they stayed nice. I spent some time getting ready every morning, whether I had a job interview, class, or was just going to the caf for a cup of coffee and a bagel. Not to be conceited, but I looked GOOD.

Since I’ve moved back to L.A. I’ve seemed to find the height of fashion to be a wrinkled black t-shirt and the same pair of dirty cargo shorts that I’ve been wearing all week. And it’s not just me. In L.A. people don’t dress like they do elsewhere. Here if you want to look good, you’re supposed to look like you’re trying not to look good. The dirtier your jeans look, the cooler you are. The more wrinkled your shirt is, the less you care, and hence the hipper you are.

All of this is coming from Saturday when I had to put on a suit to go to a wedding. I got my hair cut, my suit pressed, bought a new tie, and even ironed my shirt. And good goddamn if I didn’t look better than I’ve looked in a long time.

Maybe this slacker chic comes from living in a city that is so obssessed with image. A reaction to the fact that we live in the same place as people who have personal shoppers, who get tuxedos and dresses for free, simply because they are going to a place where they might be on TV, or will get photographed for a magazine. We want to seem aloof, because we don’t want people to think we’re affected by where we are.

It also doesn’t help that the paparazzi show us pictures of Brad Pitt doing yardwork in a dirty pair of workman’s pants and a sweaty old t-shirt. But let’s be honest about a few things. First, you can put Brad Pitt in a fat woman’s mumu, and he’s still gonna look like a stud. Second, Brad looks better when he’s in his Oscar De La Renta tux. Finally, YOU aren’t Brad Pitt.

I’m not saying there isn’t a place for your ratty shorts, your favorite college tee, your jeans with holes so big they’re more space than substance. But lets use them like Brad does. Wear them when you’re working in the yard, on your car, whatever. My favorite shorts are a hideous red, yellow and blue plaid. They’re comfortable, lightweight, and bright enough to light Vegas for a week. But I vow, starting today, to wear them only when golfing, or when I plan not to leave the house. I vow to start shaving everyday...ok that's not true, I really hate shaving, but I vow not to let it get beyond a 5 o'clock shadow. I vow to start wearing clean clothes EVERY day, not just MONday.