On the lighter side of the Nonahood, this is a column about the humorous realities of life in Central Florida. We must choose to laugh and sweat rather than cry and sweat.
This month, I’ve decided to write on Florida attire. Perhaps, as a father of a 13-year-old girl, I simply want to rant and rage about the insanity of what I call cheek shorts and wedgie suits. Fathers, the cards aren’t even stacked against us; a professional card-flinger is throwing them at our eyeballs.
At my age, 43, maybe my finger isn’t on the pulse of current style trends as it once was. Back in the day, Umbros were the bomb (not a real bomb, bombs are bad). Umbros were like modern-day soccer shorts that have been starched and run over by a semi-truck. Those shorts went with everything: sweatshirts, t-shirts, sweater vests, feather boas. They could even be worn under jeans as boxers in a pinch. They were the total opposite of wedgie suits.
However, I can think of some positives to the wedgie suits that I try not to see at the beach. If you’re water-skiing and you wipe out, you’re much less likely to get a really embarrassing wedgie in a wedgie suit.
In my mind, Florida attire is really just beach attire that’s gone to the nearby convenience store for a Coke. If you are walking to the store wearing nothing more than a bright neon muscle shirt and some boxers, you’re a redneck. However, if you’re a guy wearing an immaculately trimmed hedge on your chin, and shorts smaller than Magnum PI’s (whom you’ve never heard of), you’re a hipster. And if you’re going in your birthday suit, well, that’s the beach over.
I’ve tried to instill in my children a sense of modesty. So when my daughter asks me if her shorts are too short, I pull out old pictures of my wife wearing what looks like a potato sack with holes for her legs. It was the ’90s. But within my daughter’s question, I realize she’s using her developing feminine wiles to trap me. If I say, “Oh, those are fine,” then she’s going to walk out in those, and then the world will end. But if I say, “Hmm, maybe they are a little too short,” she’s going to say, “Come on, Dad, you’re so out of it. These are longer than any of my friends. See, my cheeks don’t even pop out.” Argh and yuck! I’ve learned to take on her wiles with stuff like, “Have you noticed the veins on the back of your legs?” or “Those shorts are really great, but shouldn’t we see the doctor about your leg pimples?”
I’m sure someone out there knows what’s going on with style these days, and I’m also pretty sure that I sound like all the old guys before who began every other sentence with, “Well, back in my day…” But in Florida, I believe beach attire is a pretty good rule of thumb.
Out and about, I see folks wearing stuff like yoga pants with tutus and high-heels. While I get the yoga pants with a tutu (beach attire), how in the world are they going to get through all the sand in high heels. Besides that, won’t the sweat from their feet turn their shoes into two disgusting slip-and-slides? They won’t be walking anywhere long.
On the subject of sweat, a friend just told me that Huskies do just fine in Florida because they have heat-regulating fur. He knows this because around here every dog known to humankind gets fawned over with doggy nail trim time, obstacle park runs, luxurious non-GMO bubble baths, and eventually gets dressed up like Aunt Mildred and stuffed into a purse (dependent on size). Dogs are Florida attire.
But back to Huskies, have you noticed they all wear the same thing? And if you’ve ever watched any movie about the future, you’ll see that everyone is in some sort of uniform. And they’re usually the type of uniforms that say, “I just came from the beach.” Take the movie The Island, for example. It’s a good one since islands are practically renowned for beaches. In the movie, everyone had these skin-tight uniforms that looked super comfortable (with potential for wedgies) and were probably kitted out with cooling vents. I dig them.
Whatever uniform we come up with must be waterproof. I’m tired of people asking me if it’s raining and looking outside the windows every time I step inside. I’m sorry; I sweat, a lot. If we are blasted by the solar furnace that is Florida, do we not sweat?
One coworker told me that she wears pretty much whatever she wants outside because it’s all the same. She’ll slap on some deodorant with sweats and a hoodie to walk her dog. While I shake my head at her not using the beach rule, she went on to explain that since she’ll just soak whatever she’s wearing, she’s adding additional layers of cooling moisture. She has a point. Maybe that’s how the Huskies do it.
Well, whatever you wear out there, wear it with a smile and with the keen confidence that comes from knowing that at least you are stylin’ it in one of the most inhospitable environs known to man and woman. What we’re doing ain’t easy.
Philip writes for Cru, a nonprofit organization located on Moss Park Road, close enough to the 7-Eleven off of Narcoossee to justify ditching work for a Slurpee. While he thinks he’s funny, he wisely never verbalizes his musings to his two ever-increasingly hostile pre-teens. His brain doesn’t seem to do the heavy lifting in the writing process – his sweaty fingers do. So, if you laugh, snort, chortle or guffaw, they deserve the credit … both of them.
