In the Closet With the Rambler

It was my original intention to inaugurate the revival of this column with an experiment. It was to test the limits of acceptable preppy attire by beginning the week in a popped collar and proceeding all the way to seersucker and Nantucket red madness by week’s end. However, this idea was shattered earlier this morning when a young man boarded the Cruiser sporting bright pink slacks, a blue brass-buttoned blazer, and a navy repp tie embroidered with pinpoint anchors. I realized that there is in fact no preppy horizon line at Colgate, and that our campus is some sort of rip in the space-time continuum where the autumnal years of the American aristocracy will be forever celebrated with poorly coordinated paeans to the age of Gatsby. I doubt I would be able to raise eyebrows up the hill with anything short of going to class dressed in a gigantic Sperry Topsider.

However, despite the unfortunate demise of the seminal idea for In the Closet’s reprise, this column does intend to deliver the same common sense, practical fashion advice and deeply repressed homo-erotic desires as its predecessor provided the Colgate student body. On that note, I would like to begin with the subject of Barbour jackets. There are a lot of them. Too many. Simply because Kate Moss was photographed wearing some man’s shooting jacket draped over her shoulders at the Ox/Cambridge polo championships because she was too coked up to remember to bring a raincoat, does not mean that every girl whose daddy can afford it should shell out $379 for turn-of-the-century waterproofing technology. I proposed in a recent letter to Barbour and Sons Ltd that each new jacket should come with a complimentary shotgun and vicious foxhound. That way, the poseurs will either shoot themselves through ineptitude, or be brutally mauled to death. This would also create demand for more Barbour jackets, as the inventory turnover would increase. I have yet to hear back from Barbour executives.

The only people for whom this advice does not apply are those unfortunates whose only waterproof article besides waxed cotton is a North Face jacket. If this is you, please do your part for society and throw yourself off of one as soon as possible. Nothing says “I like spending absurd amounts of money on outdated pseudo outdoor wear” than North Face, except perhaps Timberland boots, which have thankfully receded from the deuchebag vanguard. If you really feel you need to demonstrate how much wealthier you are than the rest of us, why don’t you just buy a perfectly functional slicker from Marmot or REI, and then burn a wad of Benjamins in a prominent location on campus? There are other alternatives as well; no one ever looked stupid in a tasteful duffle coat or short-cut belted trench, or a plastic trash bag. I don’t care what you do, just stop dressing like you borrowed your brother’s foxhunting jacket while he was on break from Eton. You’re not fooling anyone, you grew up on the Jersey shore.