This was in part because I just generally hate buying clothes - it's money that could be better spent on comics or gadgets - but mostly because my sensibilities were offended by the gaudy array of pastels and otherwise garish colors, and the near-impossibility of finding anything my size that even approached being acceptable.
At one point I found myself completely stopped in my tracks by the sight of red pants.
Unless you're a member of a Loverboy tribute band - and you're wearing them for a paying gig - I can't see any earthly reason why any man would ever buy red pants.
On Monday I was telling Dan about this, and he suggested that I should have bought them.
I countered that wearing the pants would require some additional wardrobe adjustments and equally dodgy sartorial choices:
|Yes, the power of the pants would make me blond again.|