[Or, How To Make A Bad Sandwich Out Of Otherwise Good Ingredients]
Two bloggers (who hate one another) simultaneously alerted us to the closing of Ralph Lauren's Rugby line in their blogs here and here. I thought that I would offer a more sarcastic and mocking tone towards the Rugby brand. If you ever wanted to be a Ralph Lauren designer, here's how:
Start by wearing something normal.
Now, add a tie to let people know that you go to a preppy college
where ties are somehow required or normal on campus in the year 2012.
A rugby shirt over the whole thing lets people know that you are also a jock
who can be counted in for any pick-up game on the fake quad during a picturesque autumn.
The rugby shirt will protect the tie and shirt, I suppose, if that ambitious kid tries to tackle you.
"Damnit, Clayton! I said two-hand touch! I don't want grass stains on my chinos!"
Now, it's back to the main campus hall where jackets are also mysteriously required.
Not enough time to remove your rugby shirt?
No problem, put your heavy herringbone tweed (with severe taper) over that.
Alternative: corduroy jacket with elbow patches for more allusions to mythological academia.
Even dumber alternative: hooded sweatshirt instead of rugby shirt
Rumpled? Check. Carefree? Again, yes. Uncomfortable? Horribly.
Are the autumnal winds giving you the chills during your tailgating or
ambiguous spectatorship of something horsey? Put a down vest over the jacket
which is over the rugby which is over the sweater which is over the shirt.
Should there be a dusting of snow, a quilted jacket (practically a uniform these days) can be put over the whole thing. It looks stupid, you say? Correct. While the layers may bring your internal temperatures to a near-boil, you can at least be comforted knowing that you are unable to move beneath it.
This won't be a problem because you'll be standing in poses all day
hoping that you get photographed by someone for a blog.
Nothing says rugby like a scarf. I suppose I should have used an
oversized striped one for this, but this will have to do. My God, this looks stupid,
and I'm in my mid-to-late thirties.
Now you are ready to stand unnaturally contrapposto, hold a football or bundle of books like Doryphoros, or gaze stoically with your chin and heavily combed hair aimed at the horizon.
Extra points for tucking the sweater and rugby shirt into the belt of your jeans,
and let's not even talk about socks, the ubiquitous Jolly Roger, or the false sizing labels.
[None of the above garments are made by Ralph Lauren.]
This is not the first time I've humiliated myself for the blogs benefit.