Last word. I will never mention stylin again.

Spanish Johnny rolled in from the underworld last night. With a beat up buick and broken rhythm, but dressed just like dynamite…

Okay, where were we? We were talking about effecting post-modern perspectives on human rights in a third world paradigm, right?

No, we were talking about jeans.

The simplest, plainest, label-less-est blue jeans. Calvin Klein is no friend of mine. I don’t want nobody’s name on my be-hine the poets said.

Don’t bother to google, Frank, I’ll tell you. The poets were Run DMC. Who, ironically, could end up being called pioneers in fashion label namedropping in rap. They had a hit called My Adidas.

When I say I despise labels I should clarify that the disdain does not go that far. Fashion labels are anathema. But I will accept sports brand names. Except Nike. Never to wear.

So, we have the jeans.

Worn with a plain cotton collar-and-cuffs shirt on top, and comfortable black shoes with rubber soles below. Nothing fancy. I even stopped wearing baseball caps because they had become too fash.

I suspect there is a deep psychological reason for this but at first I put it down to aesthetic philosophy. Saint Inktus believes that a writer should have the courage to dive right into the tempest, be buffeted by the storm, get tossed and churned and turned so that when she finally emerges at the end, she will be bruised and battered, but still will have one heck of a story to tell.

I tend to think that a writer can just sit on a cliff with a clear view and observe the storm, and then, from that disinterested, unprejudiced perspective, write about it.

There is no reason either one of us has to be wrong or right about this, I mention it to mention this: I don’t want to be a part of life. I don’t want to engage it. I don’t want to suffer it. It is at best a nuisance, at worst agony. Okay, it has its redeeming moments but, in general, I would like to just sit quietly in a corner and watch.

If I have my people with me, we can make comments to one another.

That is possibly why I try to dress as plain as I can. And maybe why my tendency to dress as furiously unfashionably as I could petered out at the same time as the beginning of my writing aspirations.

Of maybe it is more Freudian than that. Maybe it is not Freudian at all, and I am misusing the word— is it Freud who said that our entire personalities are shaped by our fears?

At the clothing store where I went to look at jeans—while still in the throes of my New Look obsession. The lady brought out two pairs that would have been perfect. Okay, they had that front fadey thing people like these days, but it wasn’t too much, it was relatively subdued. I thought they were perfect.

But they were the wrong size, so I didn’t buy them.

The lady had other jeans which she suggested might fit better. And I experienced a palpable panic when she brought them out.
They were all streaks and splashes, the fashion fade slashing them across, top to bottom and in all directions. Apparently, to the catalogue of fears that is what I, the man, amount to, you can add, to fear of commitment and fear of success, fear of fashion.

The sight of jeans that fashionable, and the notion of them touching my skin mortified me. It took me whole seconds to recover my composure.

And return to my senses. The obsession with the look was over.

I realize that I exaggerate a lot on this blog. These two posts probably mark the first time I have been straightforward an honest about things, Cheri.

Thing is, I do need to revamp my wardrobe. I know, these bata shoes are way past their retirement date, and I am not as fat as I was when I bought these jeans. Plus, this weather needs a practical jacket.

But then what I really want isn’t hot. It isn’t even cool.

The look I am searching for is more like “kind of okay.”

Which simply means tightening the loose screws on my old look. So I will buy Deg’s jeans (Kagutundakiteteyi, now you know the kind I am looking for. This time when I say nfunira mu sayzi yange I am talking about clothes. Har har!)

And find comfy black shoes with rubber soles and no pointy ends whatsoever.

And go get some shirts: blue, grey, conservative green.

Same old style. I am not really changing anything.

So what was all this hullabaloo for then?

Thicke, have you finished that picture I told you to do? Bring it and we post. Good boy…

Thicke isn’t here. He is still at Nadayada out on loan. When he gets back we shall see about that picture.

Update:

The picture.

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20 Comments

  1. Conservative green….??? Reminds me of Fuschia!

    How u know these colors is way beyond me….To a guy, green should either be Lime green, grass green or army green. Not Conservative green or Democratic green or JEEMA green!!!!!

    Baz, I don’t want to ask the other question again. You might kick me out, naye….

    Kati, u should come with me to that place Duksey and I love so much and we call bogere for u. Bogere knows where to find all u’re looking for! Deal?

  2. Kale, let me psychoanalyse this:

    1. you are non-conformist

    2. un-involvement, nay, detachment is your forte (hence the writer on the cliff with a clear view OBSERVING…)

    3. Being alive = chaos = feeling = pain, and you are having none of that
    4. the very idea of being defined, or “figured out” is an anathema (hence the aversion to labels)

    5. you are not afraid of anything except the very real possibility that there’s a drop, ok a whole drum, of greatness in you.

    Freud said our entire personalities are shaped by SEX.

    Am I right, or am I right? Nti never play.

  3. I am just glad Fujistu didn’t yawn on my blog again.

    And Cheri didn’t accuse me of things.

    It’s going to be a good day after all.

  4. At this rate, I officially retire firsties. You can have them all. even the ones I got in the past, collect them.

    Baz, when you are done being plain and ready to chat, I will be in that corner over there in my G-star denim out fit and Kenneth Cole boots living it up with a dozen chicks.

  5. I will yawn on Fuji’s behalf.

    Baz, just ask Lizzie for tips on style and get it over with! I like the green shirt though. You can call it Kampala Water Green

  6. glad to oblige with the threads mate.
    sayzi yo!? bikyi eyo?
    so wen Freud said we are defined by sex i.e. who we want to have it with and who we want to kill after having it, i wonder, did he in any way base that assertion on the types of sex dat we be having?

  7. Heh. We are giving a new set of uniforms for the Gallant Revolutionaries of the Glorious Revolution. You could sign up and be saved the hustle. Ndaba we also just buy them second-hand from North Korea. 🙂

    Plus, who’s drawing them caricatures?

  8. Baz, you are solo on your plain look. Quit fussing and go get yourself jeans and a jacket. In the event that you are tired of looking “okay” you know who to ask for directions to prettyville.

    “i dont mean to brag i dont mean to boast. I am just the butter on your breakfast toast”

    At ours, we keep smart, sizzling and sexy. You can also tell me the name of that shop you went to…i need me some jeans too, come to think it.

    I am so out of this bus!!!

  9. Phantom, Baz loves accents….Mbu Kampala has sobelled me…Everyone ties Chiwan!!
    Baz, u even have an accent in yo written English? you’re just Kiwaani!

  10. But Ernest, when u update yo post, u shd alert us…

    Tha picture is for CHOGM ( heh heh had to use that one b4 it went off mulembe)..is that yo new look?

  11. By the way, it is “a conservative type of green” not “a type of green called conservative green.” Cheri, when did we start beefing.

    Naye, Fujitsu, you know me so well.

    maybe, did you hear about Kampala water?

    Heaven, we are the ones who be at the park whistling like uncouth, mannerless, barbarian pieces of kampala water.

    Deg, lemme show up.

    27, that is me. Skills are deep, eh?

    Phantom, it is very well upholstered. I think it has a massage function embedded in it.

    Cute Face, the shop is called Kamikazi. Ntinda Shopping Centre. Tell them I sent you so that they know I send them customers. They will make you continue looking hot.

    Cheri, say it is for Chorgrm? Ken Love styles.

    Mr Mag, I have made it my mission to not post with you awake ever again.

    Iwaya, are you offering?

  12. oh, i just got this for you:

    “Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months. ”
    Oscar Wilde

  13. Wow.

    Truth and reality do not exist in the same dimension. Most people are too shallow to get past the clothing to the soft meaty core of another’s personality.

    No matter how anyone looks at it, clothes make the man (and the woman). It shows that you respect yourself and intend to take a particular place in society. Why do you think men run after scantily clad women? Do you think anyone would take a young man seriously if his pants are falling off his ass?

    Creative dressing isn’t even creative. Everyone is regurgitating someone else’s idea. Effing tube pants and large checked shirts with unwashed hair. *Yawn* It’s boring and irritating.

    Just wear a suit and a tie. It’s easy. It’s quick. It’s nice looking!

    (You can thank the UgandanInsomniac for leading me here. She left your address here while she visited!)

    I’ll be back!

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