Dressing for work in sweltering weather can be pretty hellish for men.
I know I know You ladies have your uncomfortable bra straps and your bunion-squeezing high heels.
I admit that none of these things sound very funny. But have you ever tried to tackle the London subway in 40c temperatures in a wool suit with a starched collar melting around your neck? Trust me, it’s not a picnic.
Taking off your pants after a long day in July can be like taking off a wetsuit. But it has Brad Pitt finally found the answer to men’s problems?
The Hollywood actor sent the paparazzi into overdrive this week when he arrived at the Berlin premiere of his new movie Bullet Train wearing: horror! – a skirt.
Have you ever tried to board the London Underground in 40C temperatures in a woolen suit with a starched collar that melts around your neck? Trust me, it’s not a picnic.
Hollywood actor Brad Pitt (pictured) sent the paparazzi into overdrive this week when he arrived at the Berlin premiere of his new movie Bullet Train wearing: horror! – a skirt
When asked to explain his outfit choice for the evening, Pitt replied casually, “I’m going to say it’s all about the breeze, the breeze is very nice…very, very nice.”
IMT, Bradley! The khaki, Tarzan-esque design of modern Haans couturier Nicholas Mott naturally caused a sensation. Not since David Beckham stepped out in a feminine sarong have lavender-scented fashionistas erupted into such a frenzy of nervousness.
Not that men in skirts are something new, mind you. In Ancient Greece and Rome, men displayed their legs as an expression of youthful virility.
The Scots have worn kilts for centuries due to the freedom of movement it afforded them in battle.
In our modern world, gender fad is supposedly dead, with everyone raiding the same costume box with gleeful abandon.
Fashion giants Burberry, Gucci and Louis Vuitton have all sent models down the runway in skirts in recent years. Lewis Hamilton is rewriting the menswear rulebook with skirts and kilts. Lustful pop star Harry Styles never seems to be out of one.
So in the spirit of old-fashioned public interest journalism, the Mail’s fashion department thought it would be fun for me to try one on, to see how the British public take to a man going about his business in a long dress. up to the knee. skirt.
Mine was from designer Thom Browne and although it also came in a dark color very similar to Brad’s macho loincloth, the team insisted it wasn’t available and got me one in salmon pink/peach. Do I believe them? I’m not sure.
Walking down the High Street, I won’t lie, I felt a bit self-conscious. A couple of old darlings who were walking their dachshunds were a bit surprised. A crafty builder sneaking a cigarette gave me a weary shake of his head.
The design was suitable for men. Instead of having to pull the thing over her hips like a woman would, she buttoned it up like a pair of pants.
Mr. Browne’s sewing kits, being such thoughtful types, even included a fly hole in the design. And yes, before you ask, underwear was worn.
This wasn’t forever, you know, and a gentleman can never be too careful if there’s even the slightest chance of an updraft, especially when photographers are around.
Oh, and the cost of the skirt? A £1,600 frivolity. Never let it be said that being a mould-breaking trendsetter is cheap.
First thoughts when I came out of the locker room: ‘Yuk!’ My hairy legs dangling from a skirt looked horrible. I felt like Rabbi C. Nesbitt in drag.
‘Fabulous!’ the stylist yelled. But they always say that, don’t they? The litmus test came when he left the studio.
After enduring some giggles from colleagues while walking (sorry, sweeping) around the office, I decided to gauge the reaction on the not-so-bad streets of London’s posh Kensington.
Walking down the High Street, I won’t lie, I felt a bit self-conscious. A couple of old darlings who were walking their dachshunds were a bit surprised. A builder sneaking a sneaky cigarette gave me a weary shake of the head.
After those first embarrassments, no one seemed to notice. Most barely gave me a second glance. But hey, I guess there’s not much we Londoners haven’t seen over the years. We have our punks, our goths, our mods, our rockers. Seeing a man in a skirt is not so crazy.
After a while, I forgot I was even using it. Then a gust of wind would pick up, providing my legs with pleasant ventilation.
As Pitt gathered, it produced a sensation that was not altogether unpleasant.
When asked to explain his outfit choice for the evening, Pitt replied casually, “I’m going to say it’s all about the breeze, the breeze is very nice…very, very nice.”
At lunchtime, I headed to Boisdale, an elegant restaurant popular with wealthy residents of snooty Belgravia. I thought the staff might go crazy over my extravagant outfit. Not a bit of that. True professionals, they barely blinked when I was shown to my table. ‘I’m lovin ‘it!’ my waitress said.
As I sat down to peruse the fee schedule, things started to get really awkward. There may have been a nice breeze up there, but, for the most part, I began to realize how woefully impractical skirts are. I had to keep crossing my legs to protect my, um, modesty.
I felt uncomfortable, vulnerable and completely ridiculous. I longed for the sanctity of my pants, where I could display anything I wanted.
Sorry Brad, this skirt thing is not for me. I admit that a kilt can sometimes give the Scots an air of mostly rudeness. But skirts? About men? Well, they look absurd.
Pitt is confident that the trend will catch on. Who knows, maybe he’s right. Come the next heat wave, maybe we men will wax our legs, apply a fake tan, and hit the streets in our latest skirts, complimenting each other on the neatness of our hemlines.
For now though, I’ll happily continue to perspire in my sweaty suit, thank you very much.
