Personal Stylists

I dress like a bum. Actually, that’s unfair to bums. If bums had a wardrobe they would undoubtedly do a better job of dressing themselves then I do, but they don’t, so we’re tying. This isn’t a major problem for me as I don’t really go to ‘nice’ places, you know, places where you have to wear an ironed shirt and shiny shoes. Like those clubs where it costs more than a steak dinner to get into and you don’t see change from a tenner for a single shot of Kentucky Bourbon then the bar tender expects a tip because he gave you your overpriced drink on a napkin. You know, those ‘nice’ places.

But now I have a wedding invite. I’ve never been to a wedding so I don’t have a suit or tux or whatever you wear to these things in reserve. Not only that, it’s a Greek wedding so as well having to look smart I also have to pin money to the bride’s dress apparently - which I imagine to be like tipping a stripper in the 1930s, but in front of her entire family.

So now I’m faced with the horrible task of going into men’s fashion shops and asking their personal stylists to improve me. I get embarrassed just asking someone to get off my hand when they accidently sit on it on the bus. I made that sound like that happens all the time, it only happened once and it was awkward. Anyway, I don’t particularly like clothes shopping, it makes me feel self-conscious as I think everyone is saying, “Look at him trying to improve himself! No mate, a new suit ain’t going to hide all that ugly”. Plus I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing, I don’t want to turn up to a wedding looking like my dad’s lent me a suit he doesn’t mind getting messed up.

I have no idea what goes with what. Can I wear a black shirt with brown shoes? Can I wear a checked blazer with pinstriped trousers? So I’m going to have to ask someone in the shop and stand there while they look me up and down, tell me to try on a bunch of clothes like a real life Ken doll and then feel obliged to buy whatever they slung at me. I have no idea, not a clue, help me I’m lost and at your complete and total disposal.

What do those shop people know anyway? Do they know anything about fashion? For all I know they’re part time, hate the job and want to dress me like a moron just to numb the endless boredom until clock-off. I’m having a mild panic attack just thinking about the whole shopping escapade.

Thank God then that I found a personal stylist website. It offers general style tips so I don’t have to awkwardly ask “What colour will really bring out my eyes?” But best of all is an occasion selector, so bam! I just click ‘Wedding Guest’ and I get an idea of what is expected of me.

So now I can go to the wedding with some confidence that I won’t look like idiot and can fully concentrate on not accidently stabbing the bride when I jab notes into her dress.