A preponderance of plaid

My parents dressed me in plaid polyester from about the time that I could walk until about the time the flame-retardant pajama laws went into effect – about seven years later. If you were to see early pictures of me, you might be forgiven if you mistook me for a child whose parents when yachting on weekends or played lawn tennis in the early morning. You could be excused if you thought I might be the child of some Scottish or Irish immigrants given the preponderance of plaid in my day-to-day ensembles. I had plaid polyester slacks, leisure suits, and bucket hats. You might have guessed that, from the looks of things, one of my parents must be Herb Tarlek from WKRP in Cincinnati.

I had so much plaid polyester, that it became part of my identity. My wardrobe felt incomplete during the eighties when parachute pants and new wave mall clothes were in style and when I went plaidless in an ineffectual effort to look popular. That was rectified in the 90s when plaid returned as an acceptable fashion choice and I haven’t looked back since. While I make do with any number of flannels, cotton, or summer short sleeve daily plaids, I long for the return of the polyester plaid leisure suits of my youth.

If I was Billie Eilish or if I was Michael B. Jordan, I’d cover up all of that skin with plaid.

Plaid is a no brainer for me; I hate shopping for myself, I hate clothes, and I hate how I look. So, when a co-worker who I had only met via video conference recently met me in person, looked at me, and circled her finger toward me (and my outfit) and asked:

What’s going on with… (she motioned with a wide, circular, and accusatory spiraling finger) ‘this?’

All I could do was laugh. Clothes are something about which I give fero zucks. I live in the Pacific Northwest and we take business casual to mean 1) jeans and 2) some kind of collared shirt. In my case, I equate collared shirts to plaid shirts.

Today, 100% of all of my 53 shirts are plaid. They are different in style, fabric, and sleeve length, but they are all plaid.

Personally, I think plaid is the perfect pattern, it has a natural utility, and a wide range of future- proof features.

Plaid has been a “thing” since around 700 BC. Sure, they used to call it “Tartan,” but like Jesus, plaid goes by many names and doesn’t go out of style (or something).

Plaid may or may not be stain-proof. Good plaid forgives all mistakes. Spilled some soup or pico de gallo? No worries. The plaid patterning distracts any observer by creating embarrassment in the viewer as they over-empathize with you for wearing plaid. They will quickly look away and avoid looking at your terrible taste.

Plaid creates a visual distortion field (at least, that’s what I want to believe). I don’t want people looking at my body – it’s a disaster and not worth spending any time on.

Plaid is the Disney “go-away green” color for my body. Plaid signals to viewers – nothing to see here. Keep moving.

Plaid is the Las Vegas casino carpet of my mid-section; it deflects the direct gaze because it pains the viewers to linger.

Plaid signals to others that conversation with me will probably be direct but not formal, patterned but not too organized, and empathetic – no one who doesn’t care how others perceive him would be caught dead wearing something that bad without a distinct sense of self confidence.

Be smart, wear plaid.