Off the Cuff Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Introduction

  CHAPTER 1 - Shoes BAD SHOES, YOU LOSE, OR A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE CLOG

  CHAPTER 2 - Underthings UNERWEAR, T SHIRTS, AND NAUGHTY SILK TEDDIES. JUST KIDDING

  CHAPTER 3 - The Devil Wears Pleated Khakis THE WIDE WORLD OF PANTS, SHORTS, ...

  CHAPTER 4 - Chest Wear That’s Best Wear SHIRTS AND SWEATERS, BABY

  CHAPTER 5 - Everyone Looks Good in a Suit, Period SUITS, BLAZERS, TIES, AND ...

  CHAPTER 6 - It’s a Wrap JACKETS, SCARVES, GLOVES, AND HATS

  CHAPTER 7 - Accessories LAST THING ON, FIRST THING NOTICED

  CHAPTER 8 - The Eighties Called, They Want Your Hair Back SKIN, HAIR AND ...

  CHAPTER 9 - WHO WEARS WHAT, WHEN, WHY, AND HOW

  CHAPTER 10 - Let’s Make Fashion Happen, People! FINDING INSPIRATION . . . AND ...

  EPILOGUE

  Published by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, Londonn WC2R 0RL, England

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  Penguin Books (NZ) Ltd, Cnr Rosedale and Airborne Roads, Albany, Auckland 1310, New

  Zealand

  Published by Dutton, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First printing, September 2004

  Copyright © 2004 by Carson Kressley

  All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  has been applied for

  eISBN : 978-1-101-49558-2

  Set in Dante

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  INTRODUCTION

  SINCE THE DAWN OF TIME, MEN HAVE HAD TROUBLE FIGURING OUT WHAT TO WEAR. IT BEGAN, WELL, IT BEGAN IN THE VERY BEGINNING.

  SETTING: Garden of Eden

  We hear Eve shouting from stage left.

  EVE

  Adam, you’re wearing that fig leaf ... again? Are you kidding me? That is so tired!

  And so, fashion was born.

  And here we are, all these years later, and straight men still have no idea what to wear. Over the last couple of years, I’ve spent a lot of time in the closets of straight America. Now I’ve been in the closet myself for a while, but it was never that scary, people.

  I’m serious. It’s a mad, mad world out there. There are more athletic jerseys than there are men. Polyester is threatening to take over the world. Men actually think they look good in mock turtlenecks and pleated khakis. So while someone else is looking out for the rain forests, I’ve got to look out for wardrobes across the land.

  How did we get into this tragic situation? Well, it wasn’t always like this. Not that long ago, the world was a much simpler place because fashion was very regimented.

  There was specific clothing for certain things. Most men had uniforms for work, whether it was an actual uniform or a suit and tie, and sportswear for things like hunting and skiing. Like cavemen teaching their sons to hunt bison and make fire, it was a rite of passage for fathers to take their sons to Brooks Brothers to buy their first blue blazer. Fathers taught sons how to tie ties and pick suits and shoes.

  And then somewhere along the line—when those pesky cellphones and the Internet became popular?—we became a very mobile society and all those conformities fell by the wayside. Suddenly you could work from your home in your pajamas and fuzzy slippers and nobody knew. (If they did they probably wouldn’t be giving you their money to invest in pork bellies and cultured diamonds.) You could get on a plane in a tank top, ripped shorts, and flip-flops and nobody would look twice at you. Fathers stopped teaching their sons the rules because there were no rules anymore.

  So we have a whole generation of guys who have absolutely no idea how to dress. And to make matters worse, at the same time there’s been an explosion in the number of clothing choices out there, from outlet malls to the Internet. It would be like if you were trying to learn to make a cheese omelet and the only guidance you were given is, “Okay, here are 90 million ingredients. Make something tasty and delicious, but we’re not going to tell you how.” You’d get frustrated and overwhelmed. You’d experiment and make a lot of mistakes. Like when you thought you were totally cool and bought those acid-washed jeans in the eighties, but it was actually the nineties?

  That’s where I come in. I’m here, I’m queer, and I can help you. I was going to rescue abused teacup yorkies, but then I realized there weren’t any, so straight men it is! I think they’re cute and adorable and lovable, like abandoned puppies at the animal shelter. A straight guy is kind of like a little bird who’s fallen out of a tree, until a straight woman or a gay man picks him up and says “Look at you! You’re the cutest little thing! You have a broken wing, but we’ll take you to Gucci and you’ll be just fine.”

  So think of me as your very own fashion fairy godstylist, here to take you on the magical journey to build a better you, starting with an improved wardrobe. I want to demystify the process, because there’s nothing to be afraid of. Absolutely everyone can dress well. And it doesn’t have to be scary. It’s not like you’re doing a home pregnancy test here, people. I want to show you that looking great is easy and fun—just like NASCAR and televised bass fishing. Okay, well, maybe not that much fun.

  Frank Lloyd Wright said,

  “Give me the luxuries of life and I will willingly do without the necessities.”

  I’ve always been like that. Hmmm. Phone bill or new cashmere sweater? Well, I can survive without a phone. Health insurance or fur? Well, If I have the fur than I won’t get sick and I won’t need the health insurance. Problem solved!

  Now, some of you may have seen me wearing some pretty out there things on TV, and you’re thinking, “Why should I listen to him??” Fear not. This is all about “Do as I say, not as I do.” I wear clothes that are appropriate for my life as a gay reality makeover TV celebutante. I’ve been known to take my shirt off and go dancing at the Roxy till three in the morning on Saturdays. Most straight guys don’t, so my personal style is going to be different from yours. I hope. Or you’re going to be in for a big surprise next time you go to San Francisco. I’m going to recommend things that will help you get in touch with your own personal style and make you look great.

  But before I tell you just how fabulous I can make you, you might want to know just how fabulous I am. Just kidding! But you might want to know where I come from and why I can help you: I was born a poor black child in the parking lot of a Kmart in Decatur, Alabama . . . Actually, I was born and raised in Allentown, Pennsylvania. I was practically Amish. Can you believe this much style came from Allentown? Which just goes to prove my theory that it doesn’t matter where you come from; it only matters where you’re going. Just because you’re from a cert
ain place, or you’re black or white or straight or gay doesn’t mean you can’t become who you want to be. Don’t dream it, be it, people! Life isn’t about finding yourself, it’s about creating yourself!

  But growing up gay in a blue-collar town like Allentown—and here’s where I get serious for a moment—you realize that you’re different, but you don’t really know why or how. I mean, when you grow up poor, odds are your parents and siblings are poor, too, so you can go home and commiserate and fight over some government cheese or whatever. But when you grow up gay, you’re like “Why do I have a crush on Lee Majors and nobody else in the first grade does? Why is my copy of Dynamite! magazine stuck together?” You’re an outsider in many ways, so you turn a little more inward and focus on your self a little more. Because you don’t have any friends. Ha, ha, ha! (Good times! Good times!) And that gives you a little perspective.

  So I know what it’s like not to feel good about yourself, and I also know how great it can feel to finally embrace who you really are. That’s what I want to help people do—be confident and enjoy who you are. (Are you a jean or a khaki? Maybe you’re a Jackie. But that’s another book.)

  Anyway, I was definitely not born wrapped in a Prada blanket. My dad’s in the car business and my mom is the child of dairy farmers in rural Pennsylvania. But the other big influences on my life were my paternal grandparents, who were in the horse business. As we got older, my sister and I got more and more involved in equestrian sports. The horse world is a very, very glamorous one, and one filled with fabulous clothes and rich heritage. By the time I was fifteen, I was traveling all over the United States showing horses at national competitions. I met sophisticated people who lived in big cities. I met movie stars and the heads of major corporations. I met gay people. I was seeing all these amazing clothes that they didn’t have at the Chess King at the Lehigh Valley mall. I was like, “Wow, there’s something else out there.”

  After I graduated from Gettysburg College in 1991, I took a job with the Equestrian Federation of the United States so I could move to New York. But after a few years there I learned that man cannot live on nonprofit wages alone. One day when I was working out at the gym in some super preppy outfit, carrying a Ralph Lauren plaid basketball from the holiday ’94 gift catalog—I bought something like ninety gallons of fragrance to get it for free—I was approached by a headhunter who told me I was “so Ralph Lauren.”

  Two days later I had an interview, and in a few weeks I was a gopher for the top executives at Ralph Lauren. (Forever in the back of my brain I’ll know that Ralph’s brother Jerry Lauren likes his coffee black with two Sweet’n Lows at 6:45 in the morning.)

  For the next seven years, I worked for Ralph Lauren and got to see every side of the company, from design and manufacturing to merchandising and advertising. I learned about the nuts and bolts of men’s clothing: the gauge of a sweater and the thread count of a dress shirt. I visited fashion shows and fabric vendors and design houses. I got really great hands-on teaching from the masters, people like Ralph and Jerry Lauren and John Varvatos. It was such an education, better than I could have gotten in any design school.

  The Art of the Tszuj

  When I worked at Ralph Lauren, whenever we were styling looks for runway shows or on models, Ralph and Jerry Lauren would turn to me and say, “Carson give that a little tszuj.” “Tszuj it” just means tweak it, finesse it, make it better, make it personal. It might mean paying attention to the details: a little roll of the cuff, a tweak of the collar, or pushing up sleeves. It might be as simple as halfway tucking in a sweater, opening a button or two on your shirt, or tweaking the angle of your ballcap.

  The whole reason for tszujing is to take your look over the top. It brings an outfit to life and makes it look like it’s not on a mannequin. Tszujing is being alive. I tszuj, therefore I am.

  (Tszuj not, lest ye be tszujed!) So just tszuj it, people!

  Ultimately, I became a stylist in the advertising division. That meant that when Ralph Lauren clothing was advertised in a catalog, I was the fashion police officer styling the clothes, selecting the models, helping with the locations. A stylist is not a designer, and that’s what I love about it—it’s all about tweaking. It’s mixing up the pieces and putting them on a real person to bring them to life. I got really in tune with how you customize looks for different people and different settings. I started doing freelance styling for celebrities. I worked with department stores, helping them lay out their catalogs and style their clothes, putting it all together so it was fresh and fun and inventive.

  I still don’t claim to be the world’s foremost expert on fashion—shocking, I know. But I have had a unique opportunity to get a real education in clothes. I have an inherent ability to say, “That won’t look good on you” and “This will look great on you.” You may be a software engineer or a waiter or an insurance salesman. There are tax accountants who know every single law and loophole, God bless them. I know all the tricks of the fashion trade. That’s my job.

  One day in 2002, I was doing a catalog shoot in the Florida Keys, when one of the photo producers said she’d heard something on the radio about this new TV show that was looking for all these gay professionals with different areas of expertise. The only thing I knew was that it was being done by Bravo. At that point, I thought Bravo was a nonstick cooking spray. I was like, “Hmmm. I think I have some Bravo from when I made muffins last . . .” Fast forward two years, and now I’ve made a new career of helping clueless straight men dress better.

  Which brings me to this book. This book is an easy, step-by-step guide to help you know what to wear and when, what to get rid of, and how you can shop—whether it’s at Neiman Marcus or T.J.Maxx—with the confidence to know what you’re looking for. Men’s style books tend to be dry and stuffy and serious. I won’t go there. You don’t need to know who the Glen in Glen plaid is and why he’s so fond of this plaid of his. You don’t need to know the history of tweed. You just need to know what looks good on you, what makes you feel good, and what helps you get from point A to point B.

  I wrote this book for straight men who need it and for the women who love them, but, lest we not forget, also for my gay brethren. Because we all know that bad taste does not discriminate. I don’t care if you’re gay, straight, or bi, just get some good clothes for God’s sake.

  Let’s get one thing out of the way, shall we? There’s nothing wrong with caring about how you look and dress. It’s not at all superficial. To me, that’s like saying it’s superficial to care about having clean underwear. Or taking care of your teeth. Or going to the doctor. It’s just what you should do.

  A lot of straight men have been afraid to care too much about how they looked, for fear that they’d be perceived as being gay. But now everyone wants to be a metrosexual. Gay is good! We live at a time when the average straight guy has permission to ask questions that he normally felt uncomfortable asking, like, “Does my butt look big in these pants?” and “Are these pleats okay?” (No, by the way) and “Should I get a manicure or highlights?” Questions that guys never would have uttered, they’re now asking me at the TGI Friday’s in LAX airport. In front of their wives, no less! Times have changed. And I am personally writing you a permission slip to your principal or supervisor or whomever to look good and feel good.

  You do have to tread that fine line, though. It is superficial to think that if your teeth are whiter and your shirt fits better, you’ll be happier. Those things might give you that extra little bit of confidence that will inspire you to achieve. A little taste of looking good can be very inspirational. Suddenly you want to be better the next day, and the next, for the rest of your life. Looking good is just the first step in empowering yourself. And further down the line, everything comes together in a package where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. It’s like my career in math in elementary school: 2 + 2 = 5. Oh my God, I feel just like Tony Robbins.

  By the way, looking good has nothing to do with how
much money you spend or what designer labels you wear. It’s not someone coming up to you and saying, “Oh my God! That’s a really expensive shirt!” or “Oh my God! Are those Gucci loafers?” It’s people coming up to you and saying, “You look fantastic. Did you trim your ear hair?”

  Looking good is also not about being “fashionable.” When I’m told I’m so “fashionable,” it means, “You’re so trendy and of the moment.” Wrong answer. It shouldn’t be about what’s hot now and what the newest thing is. It’s about feeling confident, and for you, that might mean disregarding what’s trendy and “in.” Classic personal style is building a wardrobe that suits you and your life and sets you apart from the crowd. It doesn’t have to be edgy or wild or look like it comes off a runway. And it shouldn’t be dictated by what looks good on models, or what a certain designer says, or even, to a degree, what I say, because it’s so very personal. I’m really just a guide, an educator, a medium.