TRIBES AND TOGS: DESIGNER DUDS BY EVOLUTIONARY PSYCHOLOGY

AUTUMN IN WASCANA

Of course I could write about my favourite season, autumn, but really I’ve written this opening sentence as an excuse to post my autumn picture taken a day ago in my favourite park, Wascana.

Nope.  I’m not going to write about autumn.  Instead I’ve decided to write about tribes (notions of social divisions) and togs (apparel), prompted by my curiosity for understanding more about my behaviours being domineered by evolutionary psychology and, in this essay, the significance of my signature costume.  (I’ve referred to Evolutionary Psychology evocations several times before in previous blog entries.  My belief is that all of the behaviors of all organisms are solely directed toward their continuing their species, and humans not being any exception.  All the behaviours of all human beings, be they wittingly or unwittingly, are by the grand evolutionary design only to procreate, designed only for the sole pursuit to produce offspring.  Because I say all behaviours, this refers to everything social, including our choice of dress.  We are all accursed anthropoids having evolutionary urges. We are like peacocks really, forever strutting on parade.  In this notion I am not delusional.  And I remind the reader that everything I write is generally true; but specifically, everything I write is a lie.  For example, generally, we are heterosexual, though specifically and well-documented, we are not.)

I’ll begin by stating in my evolutionary fashion, that generally everyone on this planet just wants to get along.  And in this pursuit there is a certain craving to be accepted by our peers, by those workmates and playmates with whom we are in physical and emotional contact.  Caving to the craving, to look like and dress like those with whom we desire to mingle, is a fundamental starter tactic we employ in this regard.

Factoid:  Because I have bracketed myself as being among the billions who simply want to get along, it makes perfect sense for me to describe the garb of others I’ve observed daily while perched on my piece of the planet.  First, dear readers, you must know that most middle-class men of my ilk who are on the climb of the corporate ladder look like this:

ALFRED HITCHCOCK

I’ve pictured the president because the president used to personify authority.  And now I’ll present a couple more authority figures in America, whose positions, too, used to present authority in America.

Admittedly shallow, I’ve pictured these three, Donald Trump, William Barr, and Mike Pompeo, because I feel compelled to poke fun at Trump and his similarly suited stooges.

This chubby mien seems to me an American thing (American referring to both Canada and the U.S., not referring to Mexico).  I have been elsewhere enough, and I am especially thinking of European countries, to argue that slim people live there and fat people live here.  This is stereotyping I know, but from an exploratory empirical and hubristic point of view.

Living in Canada and the USA, downtown business men are trending in blue suits and brown shoes.

A suit can hide forty pounds plus of unwanted fat ...

but not always.

Admittedly, not all business men wear suits to conceal their weight.  Some of the suited are fit.  If ever I desired to be in a suit, I would like to look like these guys:

Certainly fit people look fine, but I’m noticing that the fit tribe share the same trendy blue suit and brown shoe trappings.

But not me.  While those in the chamber of commerce communities tend to dress up, we, the folksy singer-songwriters, trend to dress down. 

I NEVER wear a suit.  Factoid:  I do NOT even own a suit.  I ALWAYS wear jeans with a black or white long-sleeved and collared shirt.  Factoid:  I am colour-blind; such a colour passion for shirts leaves no error in my mix-match.

SELF AT WORK

 

SELF (EXTREME RIGHT) AT PLAY

Marching in my CHAUCERIAN PARADE this week are some fanatics of the Saskatchewan Roughriders of the Canadian Football League (CFL), dressed in their tribal garb on game day.

IN RIDER GEAR AND MELON HEADS

MORE MELONS ...

… in a kit to kindle existential primal functions.