Time was when guys working in banks wore coats and ties. They just did. It didn’t matter if you met with clients once a minute or once a year. Most of my banking career has been spent involved with the management of the back office where many transactions are processed but few customers tread. Despite the fact that we in bank operations were a tad overdressed in de rigueur jacket and cravat, at least the neckwear provided an outlet for style and flair.
Enter casual Fridays, and 20 percent of the tie wearing was gone, just like that. After everyday casual arrived, my collection of ties seemed to be every bit as overabundant as Pat Dye’s. Some of you might remember the 1987 Sugar Bowl in which the former Auburn football coach chose to kick a field goal with four seconds remaining to tie 11-0 Syracuse 16-16. To express extreme consternation, a Syracuse radio station instigated the collection and delivery of thousands of neckties to Dye. He autographed and contributed them for sale to raise money for Auburn’s scholarship fund. My original point was that without neckties there rose a need for a new way to channel all of that pent up style and flair.
By chance, I bought a pair of top-to-toe striped socks. They were actually rather conservative with varying stripe widths of blue, gray, black, and white. During a biennial checkup, my dermatologist told me she liked them, going on to say she thought most guys wouldn’t be confident enough to wear striped socks. I told her that striped socks did not scare me and went on to let her know that I would not hesitate to eat quiche on the same day I was wearing a pink shirt. After thinking about this exchange, it dawned on me that striped socks were the perfect successor to neckties as a way to express style and flair.
That’s when I started buying nothing but striped socks. They were tough to find back then, though they are more easily procured nowadays. It took a while, but I eventually reached a point at which I was able to abandon all of my non-striped socks. I even have ultra-conservative stripers that I have worn with tuxedos.
I do have some slight exceptions. For instance, I buy argyles under the premise that their patterns are stripes of diamonds. There are also checked socks in my collection, justifiable in that they display stripes of squares. I even have one pair of polka dot socks in my drawer. That’s right, their pattern forms stripes of dots. Oh, yeah. Vertical stripes make for a nice change of pace.
Forget that adage about the avoidance of quiche by real men. It ain’t so. I’m a Southern boy, a Louisiana Southern boy. We know good food, and quiche are some. Real men wear striped socks. Real men in my family and circle of friends are discovering this for themselves, one pair at a
time. Besides, you just feel better when you’re wearing striped socks. A purple and gold pair is an excellent way to exercise bragging rights for the LSU Tigers’ national football championship, don’t you think? I waved the wheat when Kansas won the national basketball title, but it would have been more fun with socks sporting stripes of Jayhawks. By degree, my wife worships the mythical bird of KU, so I get to play, too. Maybe she’ll get me some socks like that.
Anyway, I thought I’d give you a glimpse of my realness. So here’s a picture of my collection of striped socks.
Enter casual Fridays, and 20 percent of the tie wearing was gone, just like that. After everyday casual arrived, my collection of ties seemed to be every bit as overabundant as Pat Dye’s. Some of you might remember the 1987 Sugar Bowl in which the former Auburn football coach chose to kick a field goal with four seconds remaining to tie 11-0 Syracuse 16-16. To express extreme consternation, a Syracuse radio station instigated the collection and delivery of thousands of neckties to Dye. He autographed and contributed them for sale to raise money for Auburn’s scholarship fund. My original point was that without neckties there rose a need for a new way to channel all of that pent up style and flair.
By chance, I bought a pair of top-to-toe striped socks. They were actually rather conservative with varying stripe widths of blue, gray, black, and white. During a biennial checkup, my dermatologist told me she liked them, going on to say she thought most guys wouldn’t be confident enough to wear striped socks. I told her that striped socks did not scare me and went on to let her know that I would not hesitate to eat quiche on the same day I was wearing a pink shirt. After thinking about this exchange, it dawned on me that striped socks were the perfect successor to neckties as a way to express style and flair.
That’s when I started buying nothing but striped socks. They were tough to find back then, though they are more easily procured nowadays. It took a while, but I eventually reached a point at which I was able to abandon all of my non-striped socks. I even have ultra-conservative stripers that I have worn with tuxedos.
I do have some slight exceptions. For instance, I buy argyles under the premise that their patterns are stripes of diamonds. There are also checked socks in my collection, justifiable in that they display stripes of squares. I even have one pair of polka dot socks in my drawer. That’s right, their pattern forms stripes of dots. Oh, yeah. Vertical stripes make for a nice change of pace.
Forget that adage about the avoidance of quiche by real men. It ain’t so. I’m a Southern boy, a Louisiana Southern boy. We know good food, and quiche are some. Real men wear striped socks. Real men in my family and circle of friends are discovering this for themselves, one pair at a
time. Besides, you just feel better when you’re wearing striped socks. A purple and gold pair is an excellent way to exercise bragging rights for the LSU Tigers’ national football championship, don’t you think? I waved the wheat when Kansas won the national basketball title, but it would have been more fun with socks sporting stripes of Jayhawks. By degree, my wife worships the mythical bird of KU, so I get to play, too. Maybe she’ll get me some socks like that.Anyway, I thought I’d give you a glimpse of my realness. So here’s a picture of my collection of striped socks.
