Tucking It In

I recently was talking with a friend when he mentioned that it distressed him to see men who didn’t tuck in their shirts. I feel it’s admirable of him to still be my friend since, distressingly, I have rarely been in his presence with my shirt tucked in.

To me, shirt tucking is like tie wearing. Sure, it may look nice, but it’s uncomfortable. I get that there are times when form triumphs over function, but short of weddings and funerals I just don’t have much need to dress up or be fashionable, although I will admit that I look pretty darn snazzy in a suit. But I have no need to dress to impress anymore; I don’t need to look my best for my boss or coworkers because I don’t have a job, and the only woman I feel the need to impress is quite content to let me lounge around untucked and, for that matter, is unconcerned if I choose not to wear a shirt at all, provided I put one on at the dinner table.

For years I had a job that required me to tuck in my shirt and I didn’t much care for it then (the tucking, not the job), much less the tie I was also forced to wear. I know women have it even worse what with all the paraphernalia they are supposed to wear but, seriously, what fashion maven thought a piece of material tightened in a complicated knot around the neck like a noose was the be all and end all of attire? Why the neck? Why not move it up and around, so it’s like a sweatband around your forehead with it hanging down your back? Now that’s a fashion statement. Plus, it would keep your hair out of the way while providing a handy hanging piece of cloth you can whip around and use to wipe your mouth or blow your nose.

Look, I know lots of people and lots of cultures have their own dress codes and types of clothing. Each to their own. Personally, I think the robes Buddhist monks wear look both comfortable and fashionable; remember, before they were frat party outfits, togas were what everyone who was anyone in ancient Rome were wearing. On the other hand, I just don’t see the need for any type of clothing that constricts, conforms, discomforts or discombobulates.

I feel as though I come by my fashion sense, or lack thereof, honestly. I spent several of my formative years in Bermuda, an island famed, of course, for its pink sand beaches and distinctive shorts. But despite being associated with what most people consider a casual choice in attire,  Bermuda has, or it did back in the day, a rather stuffy dress code (shirts required in public unless at the beach, for instance). Those renowned shorts were considered official attire by Bermudans in businesses, offices and government. My father was in the Navy and his work uniform included shorts. And yes, everyone tucked in their shirts – a loathsome acknowledgement to some perverse puritanical desire that we must find a way to make people uncomfortable even while living in a sub-tropical paradise. 

Speaking of which, my first experience in uncomfortable clothes was when our family would dress up to be presentable and respectable in church, although even at an early age I had my suspicions that we were trying more to impress the other attendees than any sort of supernatural manifestation, holy or otherwise. My mother eventually saw the light and graciously returned my Sunday mornings to me when she realized that dressing up and pew sitting were not attributes that were going to stick with me for life.

Further mangling my appreciation for fashion at such an impressionable age, I attended a British school for a year in Bermuda, a delightful experience but for my struggles in learning how to add and subtract pounds and shillings and the fact that I had to wear a uniform. White dress shirt tucked into green shorts with a green and white striped tie and knee-high green socks – and, as I recall, a green blazer for formal school occasions such as when parents were in attendance. I will say this about school uniforms: you don’t spend much time every morning worrying about what to wear to school.

But other than that, my attire on the island consisted of as little as possible – a trend that has stuck with me for life even though I now live in a decidedly less than tropical clime. The shoes I had to wear to round out my school uniform I considered needless torture to feet that were happiest in flip-flops or unshod entirely. Shorts and a T-shirt were what I wore when not in a swim suit. I don’t think I wore long pants for three years.

But since I am nothing if not tolerant, I say wear what you want and tuck in whatever you feel needs tucking. But know that I consider Hawaiian shirts to be formal attire and they are definitely not meant to be tucked in by civilized people. 

One other problem I have with tucking is that my shirts don’t stay tucked in and they tend to bunch up in front, making them uncomfortable and unsightly. I think we can all agree that tucked shirts just are not all that flattering on people who need to shed a few inches around the tucking area. 

And now that I have been afflicted by self-isolated laziness and the obvious consequence of supplementary pandemic pounds, I certainly have no intention of tucking in my shirt any time soon.