The Clothes Unmake the Man

Like Halloween, only miserable.

I am naturally shy. Let me rephrase. I am unnaturally shy. The very notion of socialization with people I am not already entirely comfortable with makes me physically ill. The areas of my brain responsible for creativity, logic, and motor functions all go utterly haywire when circumstances demand I “mix.” The anxiety that “networking” and small-talking and shit-shooting cause me is simply ridiculous. It would be hilarious if it didn’t suck so much.

Having said that, there’s a particular set of ingredients that amplify this effect: shirts and ties.

I’m not one of those folks who balks at the idea of dressing semi-professionally. Truly, I think I often prefer it to the office environment in which anything goes. It gives one a sense of purpose, promotes the idea that while we’re all here, we’re going to do something that takes effort and concentration, and so we don the uniform.

But then I put on a button-down shirt. I put on a tie. I wear something like khakis instead of jeans. I wear “shoes” instead of “decaying, filthy sneakers.” I don’t even have to be jacketed or be-suited. These elements in place of my usual clothes, I think, make me even more insecure, more unsure of myself.

Not that it’s any more or less uncomfortable than anything else. And it’s not that I disdain the aesthetic. What is it, then?

I have a hypothesis. I imagine myself suddenly thrown into the military, everyone around me in their uniforms, while I am trying to pass as one of them, only I am wearing camouflage pajamas. Or I am mistakenly placed on a baseball team, and as players warm up their swings with Louisville Sluggers, I have a big red Nerf bat.

I think the problem is that I feel like I am pretending to be one of the be-suited, one of the tie-wearers, but knowing that I’m not one of them. Sure, I technically have the correct gear (which could come in the form of clothes, but it can also be a job title or a degree), but everyone sees through it: I’m wearing a costume.

So the issue isn’t the clothes, of course. The clothes are just a part of the costume. It’s the pretending that seems so untenable. When I am going about my business as a reasonably-competent human being in a world of informed, confident, driven professionals, I intuit that I am alien, poorly disguised. Once I open my mouth, or I am noticed even in the slightest, my ruse will be discovered.

I’m not really sure what would be so bad about that. But that lack of surety is enough.