My dad enjoyed entertaining youngsters by using “nonsense” expressions. One of them was “brown cow – moo!” I imagine it was a derivative of some sort, originating from the “how now brown cow” phrase that is used in elocution teaching (if I believe what Wikipedia tells me). Regardless, I cannot help but think of him as I shake my head while looking at this monstrosity of an outfit I put together today.
As I look down I notice that I am wearing what appears to be 5 separate shades of brown. It is not the first time I have faced this dilemma. It appears to occur every time a certain shirt comes up in the cycle to be worn. It is just above the “sunshine yellow” shirt from Express that is fancy but also see through and does not allow me to wear a racing t-shirt underneath like normal. Anyway, this brown shirt is a nice soft material. I tried to see what material it is, but I can’t crane my neck that far and I am not exactly about to take my shirt off to find out. It is brown, but not as brown as when it was brand new. Many washings have started to take its toll. I usually couple it with a pair of light khakis. No harm no foul, except the fact that the khakis really have seen better days. Besides fraying at the pockets and cuffs, it has shrunk and constantly pulls up exposing my ankles when my old socks that are sans elastic fall down. I have
vowed not to wear them again, at least not until I am out of clean clothes, especially now that it is cold and I despise the “ankle-breeze.” That leaves me with my two pair of “brown” pants (both between khaki and brown) and a pair of green. I hate the green. I can never figure out a shirt that matches. It seemed like a great idea when I got them, but then I never wear them. You think I would have learned from the last pair that I threw out, for the very reason that they never got worn. Thus, the light brown got the nod.
They are fine pants themselves, but are basically the same colour as the faded brown shirt. But they are not close enough, in my opinion. Throw in my belt (kind of a reddish brown), my socks (they are the dark brown my shirt used to be), and my shoes (used to be brown akin to my belt, but now are the colour “scuffed”) and I just look like a freakin’ fudgesicle. The Italian brown hair and eyes are not helping. All in all, I try to tell myself that I do not really care. It bugs me during the day, and then I still put on the same outfit weeks later. I think I am just dwelling on it today because fudgesicles were on sale at the store this week and I did not buy any. What the hell was I thinking?
Burnt sienna and proud,