Hello, hello… Linkedin are you receiving me? Recruiters, where are are you? I know you receive yards of cover letters filled with words like ‘inspired’, ‘passionate’ and ‘collaborative’. But I actually am those things. I’m so inspired, I’m always thinking of mad new things; I can’t think of anything specific right this second, but I’m pretty sure I thought of something quite funny just yesterday. I’m so passionate, and not in a sexual way, but also that. And collaborative, I love collaborative; as long as I’m the boss it’s my favourite.
My current work status is: ‘looking for new opportunities’. Rough translation: ‘I’m going to die hungry and alone.’
This (hopefully temporary) worklessness has significantly impacted me buying clothes. In that, I now don’t. I haven’t bought a new piece of clothing in weeks. It’s a revelation that normals would doubtless respond to with a simple: ‘and?’ But I’m sure regular readers will understand my pain. The ability to buy overpriced imported menswear is my oxygen. Without it I’m lost. Just flailing about. Like a man with no arms trying to climb into a boxing ring.
God I envy you dear reader. I wouldn’t wish this hell on anyone. Digital window-shopping when you’re on financial lock-down is proper miz. Remove the potential for an irresponsible purchase and it’s difficult to imagine a worst waste of time. I might as well be counting pebbles. Add in the current sale discounts and it’s positively masochistic. My hobby is ruined.
Or so I thought. Turns out my darling girl is extremely susceptible to my drooping bottom lip. Now, I’m not suggesting I’ve been putting it on. And I’m not saying I’m a manipulative swine (I’ll leave that to others). But, as you can see from the images (taken at Goldsmiths BA Design Show) I’m now wearing a new pair of South2 West8 trousers and Comme des Garçons Homme crossbody bag.
My girl wanted to cheer me up.
Of course, I did attempt to dissuade her from the purchases: ‘totally unnecessary’, ‘I don’t need them’, ‘we need to be careful with money’, that sort of thing. But if I’m being honest with myself, I was being mildly (read: excessively) performative.
I sometimes wonder if I could have been a brilliant actor. It’s that sweet-spot you’ve got to find, where ‘no’ really means, ‘God yes’. It’s an unshakeable demeanour betrayed by a sorrowful eye. I expect De Niro knows what I’m talking about.
Now, my girl is no dummy. She knows what’s going on. But I guess that’s why we work. She understands I’m an intolerable infant. And I am in agreement with that.
Anyway, back to the job hunt. Ideally there’ll be someone out there looking to pay me to write semi-satirical, semi-serious confessionals about expensive menswear. Come on recruiters, pull your finger out.