No, You May Not Hold Up Clothing In Front Of Me
December 13th, 2005
The fear began as a child.
As we all very well know, there’s a Catch 22 that emerges when you’re younger and your parents offer to buy you clothing. Sure, you’ll get something free out of the situation and the journey to the mall, but you will have to deal with the whole parental approval scenario. Trying on clothes, taking advice and going through the back and forth convincing factor on a variety of hip fashions that one just must have to not be a social outcast. But there has always been one fear element of such an experience that has transferred to my adult hood.
I do not want you holding up clothing in front of me.
First of all — since when does holding up a piece of clothing on a hanger in front of my already-clothed body actually give you a sense of whether or not said clothing will fit me? Or look good on me? Or anything…me? Holding up a pair of pants or a shirt or a jacket or a hat in front of my body while the items are still attached to a hanger of some kind will not give you the true reveal of how I will look when wearing such things out in public.
And by doing so, you will show the world (who are all watching as you do it, by the way) that I am just a mannequin of sorts, here at the mall for some sick dress-up event where you hold on the hanger in the relationship.
No, you may not hold up clothing in front of me.
As a child, this became a sticking point in the ever-evolving battle of clothes shopping with the parents. There would always be an exchange that went a little something like this:
Mom: “We should get you some new clothes for school.”
Me: “Okay, but you can’t hold the clothes up in front of me.”
Mom: “So, we’ll go this afternoon?”
Me: “And you won’t hold the clothes up in front of me?”
Mom: “How about three thirty?”
Me: “And you won’t HOLD THE CLOTHES up in front of me?”
Mom: “Silly.”
Yes, there was no resolution. Instead, I had to develop the same kind of skills that Ralph Macchio would learn from Mr. Miyagi. There would be a certain wax-on, wax-off hand motion that would quickly knock the hung-clothes out of my mother’s hands before she could successfully hold them in front of my body. There would be a certain paint-the-fence, sand-the-floor movement that would knock pants, shoes and belts out of her hands before they would rest over that area of my nether-region.
My clothing-on-hangers deflection skills were so fast that any young hot thing in the mall (and her friends) would never see an adult psychotic woman (my mother) holding clothing in front of my body. It would, all at once, let me retain the respect and dignity of the flourescently-lit mall population.
But today? As an adult? The rules have changed.
Now, the soul of my mother and her obsession with holding up clothing, on hangers, in front of my body has wound up in the bodies of every single retail worker this side of the GAP divide. Now, the friendly neighborhood Fitchners do more than just swipe your card in the credit card machine… They come running, with hangers in hand, wanting to hold them in front of your body so you can see in the mirror just how great they’re going to look on you.
Just recently I had to quash such a situation before it got too out of hand.
Me: “Can you not hold that shirt up in front of my body, please?”
Them: “Excuse me?”
Me: “Yeah, just don’t hold up clothes in front of me.”
Them: “Don’t hold up clothes in front of you?”
Me: “Exactly.”
Them: “Really? Are you kidding?”
No. I am not. I mean, what is it about not holding clothing up in front of my body while they still drape forth from the wood hanger that you do not get? What is it that society does not understand about this scenario? Why did it have to start in my childhood and continue on with people I do not know in the well-lit warehouses of mainstream clothing retailers?
Why why why why why?
I have tried to think of solutions. I have wondered if attaching an electrical/tazer type device to my body (which would shock anyone trying to hold clothes up in front of me) would work. I have wondered if perhaps a device not unlike those blow-up beds (one which would immediately inflate, causing me to be too huge for anyone to hold clothing up against) would keep retail clerks from trying such a thing. I have debated throwing fits and seizures to stop the painful moments of retail glee.
But when a simple explanation or a desperate plea (i.e. no, you may not hold up clothing in front of me) does not work — you start to wonder if you should altogether just forget about going to the mall at all. Your own mother not listening to you is par for the course — but when retailers insist on holding up clothing in front of you… Well, things have to change.
With that in mind, I have come up with the ultimate solution to keeping people from holding up clothing in front of me while shopping in retail chains. I have determined the best possible way to keep suit brokers at The Men’s Warehouse from holding up dress shirts and ties in front of my face. I have come up with the perfect way to keep surf dudes from trying to hold a bathing suit in front of my loin-region.
Talking to ones’ self.
I don’t know what it is about people talking to themselves that freaks out retail workers, but it’s been working like a charm. From the minute I enter any store I begin speaking to myself out loud (at a reasonable decibel level) and every single retail worker avoids me. Not even a hello or a welcome to our store, sir — they ignore me completely.
Some may say that the talking to myself scenario makes me look even worse to those who I’m seeking to impress by not having clothing held up in front of me, but I disagree. I would rather appear insane and not have clothing held up in front of me like I have no idea myself what would look good on my body than appear sane and needy in the area of dress.
I have thought long and hard about this subject, and as I’m sure you can tell… I am 100% happy with the result.
Today’s WFME moral of the story: don’t hold up clothing in front of me and everything will be OK.
—
In other news, I would like to officially invite everyone to the WFME Holiday Party which will be taking place this Friday here on the site. The comment section will be alive with drinking, talking, brawls a plenty, and you may just end up going home drunk with a blogger you never expected to even remotely have a thing for. But that’s what holiday parties are all about. And remember, no presents. No, I mean it. No presents, please. (That means please bring presents in the form of witty, grammatically correct, well-spelled thoughts and cheeer.)
Sometimes I do this to myself out of pure laziness. I will hold a pair of pants up in front of myself and see if they are long enough because I hate the process of going to the fitting room.
Comment by benny — December 13, 2005 @ 8:53 am
And does that ever, really work Benny? I mean, you won’t know length until you put those babies on!
Comment by Pauly D — December 13, 2005 @ 8:56 am
Even stranger than clothes holding? That “rule” where you can tell if a pair of jeans is gonna fit by wrapping the waist around your neck. Who the hell does that in the middle of a store?
While I would love to stop by Friday, I can’t. So, have a tasty Jameson’s and ginger ale, lots of ice, on my behalf, ok?
Comment by Flower Girl — December 13, 2005 @ 9:00 am
Did I read “open bar” or was I just hallucinating from all the mad hand waxing?
Comment by C Ro — December 13, 2005 @ 9:05 am
I’m totally there on Friday. Well, here. Should I bring anything? A nice side dish?
Comment by Keith — December 13, 2005 @ 9:11 am
C Ro - Open bar, for sure. All the digital drinks you can down.
Keith - How about some coogle?
Comment by Pauly D — December 13, 2005 @ 9:19 am
(That means please bring presents in the form of witty, grammatically correct, well-spelled thoughts and cheeer.)
Pauly, is cheeer a well-spelled thought or something?
Comment by Hilary — December 13, 2005 @ 9:33 am
Hilary - You thought I totally misspelled something there, didn’t you? In fact, the word cheeer (3 e’s) is an actual word that has to do with cheeering.
Check it out.
Comment by Pauly D — December 13, 2005 @ 9:39 am
“coogle”? Is that how West Coast types spell “kugel”?
And I am so up for digital drinks. Although that sounds vaguely sketchy.
Comment by annabel lee — December 13, 2005 @ 9:41 am
Pauly, I will not deny that the pants-holding-in-front-of-self technique is prone to errors. I’ve also been known the reverse the numbers, waist vs. inseam, without doing a try-on. As a tall skinny person, this means I end up with the pants of a short wide person.
Comment by benny — December 13, 2005 @ 9:41 am
Can we forget I ever said anything about spelling mistakes in comments?
Comment by Pauly D — December 13, 2005 @ 9:44 am
Okay, no prob. I will cheeer while you eat your coogle. Or would that be cooogle?
Comment by Hilary — December 13, 2005 @ 9:56 am
yay! party! what’s everyone wearing?
oh, and when i shop, i’ll hold it up because it’s all about the coloring. us chicks think about these things. sometimes, when shopping for myself, i’ll even place the hanger OVER MY HEAD so it looks like i’m actually wearing the dress, top…whatever.
Comment by kristine — December 13, 2005 @ 10:09 am
whenever i sew a new outfit for my pauly d. action figure i always hold it up in front him.
on the other hand, i sew the outfits right onto my pauly d. voodoo doll.
Comment by meme — December 13, 2005 @ 10:27 am
What if I’m buying a gift for someone who is roughly the same size as you and I want to know if it will fit them? Then can I hold it up in front of you? Or would you be so nice as to try it on for me?
Comment by Hope — December 13, 2005 @ 12:17 pm
Hope - Let me put it to you this way… Do you like electrical shocks or the trademark wax-on wax-off hand sweeps? If you do, then just go ahead and try to hold it in front of me.
Comment by Pauly D — December 13, 2005 @ 12:20 pm
Pauly - I just pictured you holding up ‘thong panties’ and I could not agree more with this post after thinking that.
Comment by monkeyinabox — December 13, 2005 @ 1:06 pm
I shall be already hung over on Friday having participated in activities planned for me on Thursday evening (aka my birthday) - what the heck - I’ll be there. Party on Wayne!
Comment by Kathleen — December 13, 2005 @ 1:28 pm
My mom still does this.
And did someone say party? I’ll be there. Can I invite some people?
Comment by Glen C. — December 13, 2005 @ 1:57 pm
Glen C - You can invite two people. No more than two. But each of those people you invite can invite two people. And the two people your two people invite can invite two people. And the two people your two people invited can invited two people and other two people and so on and so on and so on.
But we’re only giving out one cup to each person — none of this throwing out your cup and getting a new one over and over and over again. That’s such a waste.
Comment by Pauly D — December 13, 2005 @ 2:00 pm
I’ll be here on Friday wearing a not-held-up-in-front-of-me party outfit.
Please forgive me if I drink too much and misspell a word or two.
Comment by Rachel — December 13, 2005 @ 2:36 pm
Party? Digital drinks? I’m so there, but I’m coming solo and bringing my own big gulp cup None of that sissy 20oz shit for me…I’m not sayin *I’m* gonna do it, but I know someone is gearing up to hold some clothes in front of you before midnight on Friday.
Comment by Albone — December 13, 2005 @ 2:45 pm
Shall I bring the mistletoe?
Comment by Amy — December 13, 2005 @ 3:23 pm
i love a party, i usually bring my own blender, but i’m assuming your bartender will have one.
Comment by better safe than sorry — December 13, 2005 @ 4:45 pm
Pfft, don’t get me started on those cupwasting types. I know all about tose guys.
Comment by Glen C. — December 13, 2005 @ 4:51 pm
oooh, mistletoe. good call.
i’m already drunk.
Comment by kristine — December 13, 2005 @ 4:56 pm
Mistletoe? At a party thrown by a Jew? Won’t it burst into flames? Besides, we don’t need any excuses to make out with people, do we? Can I phrase everything in this comment in the form of a question? Let’s find out, shall we?
Comment by Keith — December 13, 2005 @ 8:40 pm
So you expect us to be drunk and grammatically correct? Don’t you think you’ve set the bar a little high?
Comment by Lynn — December 13, 2005 @ 10:47 pm
Did your mom ever do the thing where she stuck her fingers in your waistband to make sure the pants fit. That was my absolute nightmare.
Comment by sandra — December 14, 2005 @ 12:37 am
Here in Iowa we don’t worry much about if our clothes fit or not,
we just get up in the morning and throw on grandad’s flannel shirt and pull on a pair of Uncle Boo’s jeans and grab cousin Leo’s
coat and snow boots,top it all off with the knitted cap and scarf we purchased at the Goodwill Store for $1.35 and then we are ready to face the snowy world outside our door! If you don’t beleive me,then you never been to Iowa Falls.
Some of the “Magic” is in Iowa
Comment by kata — December 14, 2005 @ 6:33 am
I have to go inside the dressing room. Not to try things on, necessarily, but so I can steal stuff.
Comment by nic — December 14, 2005 @ 6:35 am
Sandra - You’re asking if my mother ever shoved her fingers in my pants? Hmm. My answer is NO.
Nic - I’ve always had a feeling you were a klepto.
Comment by Pauly D — December 14, 2005 @ 7:54 am
Why I oughta …
Comment by nic — December 14, 2005 @ 8:00 am
I still enjoy shopping with my mom (a.k.a. spending her money). Unfortunately it seems like all I ever get out of the deal are boring work clothes.
Comment by Kat — December 17, 2005 @ 2:27 pm