Sam and Kathleen and I were watching the fourth game of the World Series last night before I sat down to write this posting. We were all seated together on the couch creating a rather bucolic family scene, but I had to step up to the old computer and bang a blog out of the park for posterity. So there I was sitting at the kitchen table writing and trying to keep track of the ball game.
The Detroit Tigers and the San Francisco Giants were tied at three to three. If the Giants, who were ahead three games to none, beat the Tigers they’d be labeled World Series champions, at least until the start of next baseball season. That got me to thinking about labels.
We humans seem to need labels. I guess they provide a certain sense of comfort - the known versus the unknown. We’re not real keen on dealing with the unknown. But boy some labels can really confuse.
I visited several local department stores Saturday, looking for a new dress shirt. But something about the labeling of men’s shirts seems to have changed. Unless I did a Rip Van Winkle and slept through something I shouldn’t have, “regular fit” shirts in any quantity seem to have almost disappeared off the store shelves to be replaced by a plethora of “slim fit” and “fitted” shirts. I can’t get into a slim or fitted shirt with a shoehorn. What’s up with that?
Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that labeling of men’s clothing is going to become as confusing as labeling of women’s clothes. I mean, does anybody out there really understand the difference between petite and misses sizes? Plus size isn’t too difficult to figure out, thank goodness. But if you are a petite six are you not also misses six or are you like a misses eight? Women’s shoes are tough to read too. One manufacturer will label the width of a pair of shoes AA while another manufacturer will label a similar pair of shoes small. And let’s not even get into bra sizes. How is it different bust measurements all qualify for A, B, C, D cups or whatever?
And I don’t know about you, but I’ve always objected to wearing an article of clothing with the designer or manufacturer’s label on it - especially when the label is strategically placed where the whole world can see it. I’ll be danged if I’m going to wear clothing that advertises for Gloria Vanderbilt or Tommy Hilfiger or some other name brand names. I’ve even quit wearing Levis because their label not only advertises their name; it also tells the whole world my waist size and the length of my inseam.
“A little short in the crotch are you Perkins?” Humph!
Worse than that though are clothes that are emblazoned with words like, “Bum equipment.” I can’t begin to tell you how many women I’ve seen walking around with “Bum equipment” splashed across their breasts or their behinds. Are those women trying to tell us something? Maybe they’re afraid to tell their husbands the bad news in person. Worse yet, maybe they’re afraid to let their babies know there will be no public breast feeding for them.
I think a clothing designer or manufacturer who wants me to advertise for him or she (or it) should pay me to wear and display their names.. Do pro golfers or those other hotshot sports figures advertise for free? Not on your Nikes buster! Two bags of poop on free advertising.
By the way, the Giants won. Yay Giants!
The Detroit Tigers and the San Francisco Giants were tied at three to three. If the Giants, who were ahead three games to none, beat the Tigers they’d be labeled World Series champions, at least until the start of next baseball season. That got me to thinking about labels.
We humans seem to need labels. I guess they provide a certain sense of comfort - the known versus the unknown. We’re not real keen on dealing with the unknown. But boy some labels can really confuse.
I visited several local department stores Saturday, looking for a new dress shirt. But something about the labeling of men’s shirts seems to have changed. Unless I did a Rip Van Winkle and slept through something I shouldn’t have, “regular fit” shirts in any quantity seem to have almost disappeared off the store shelves to be replaced by a plethora of “slim fit” and “fitted” shirts. I can’t get into a slim or fitted shirt with a shoehorn. What’s up with that?
Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that labeling of men’s clothing is going to become as confusing as labeling of women’s clothes. I mean, does anybody out there really understand the difference between petite and misses sizes? Plus size isn’t too difficult to figure out, thank goodness. But if you are a petite six are you not also misses six or are you like a misses eight? Women’s shoes are tough to read too. One manufacturer will label the width of a pair of shoes AA while another manufacturer will label a similar pair of shoes small. And let’s not even get into bra sizes. How is it different bust measurements all qualify for A, B, C, D cups or whatever?
And I don’t know about you, but I’ve always objected to wearing an article of clothing with the designer or manufacturer’s label on it - especially when the label is strategically placed where the whole world can see it. I’ll be danged if I’m going to wear clothing that advertises for Gloria Vanderbilt or Tommy Hilfiger or some other name brand names. I’ve even quit wearing Levis because their label not only advertises their name; it also tells the whole world my waist size and the length of my inseam.
“A little short in the crotch are you Perkins?” Humph!
Worse than that though are clothes that are emblazoned with words like, “Bum equipment.” I can’t begin to tell you how many women I’ve seen walking around with “Bum equipment” splashed across their breasts or their behinds. Are those women trying to tell us something? Maybe they’re afraid to tell their husbands the bad news in person. Worse yet, maybe they’re afraid to let their babies know there will be no public breast feeding for them.
I think a clothing designer or manufacturer who wants me to advertise for him or she (or it) should pay me to wear and display their names.. Do pro golfers or those other hotshot sports figures advertise for free? Not on your Nikes buster! Two bags of poop on free advertising.
By the way, the Giants won. Yay Giants!
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