Men as Shoppers or Hunter Gatherers
Males as shoppers is almost an exercise in futility. I don’t intend to betray my gender but I have to say there are a few observations I feel compelled to share along with the odd universal truth about men in the market place. Bare with me as I explain a few facts about the male shopper.
First, and foremost if you haven’t already noticed, and I guess my audience now is mainly the opposite sex, men don’t want to be there. That is in the stores, the malls, especially the malls, window shopping, out there aimlessly walking. It is a painful and meaningless experience for most.
I now work in a men’s clothing store and as such I have crossed borders and have a slightly different perspective on the subject. I see couples arrive in the shop. The men look agitated, some of the women do too. Sometimes frayed at the edges, a touch haggard. I greet them as up beat as possible.
“Good Afternoon/evening may I help you find something you will absolutely love?”
The man is a mute.
The wife says, “I am looking to dress my husband.”
After a pause she adds, “If I didn’t pick out his clothes he would probably go naked.”
I am sensing tension.
I inquire, “What would you like to see?”
The man struggles, he stutters, he pauses, looks at his left foot and finally says, as if in physical pain
“Slacks.”
I see relief from his wife. Her body language speaks volumes. Her husband has spoken an English word in a clothing shop and has initiated the shopping process. This is all good. It is like a break through in therapy, after the crisis comes progress. We may now proceed with some vigor in the selection of a pair of pants.
Men I have discovered can not dress themselves, or at least not adequately. General they do not even know what they want or need and unlike a woman can not discern a want from a need. They are not up to the demands of the culture as they lack comprehension of style, form, function, co-ordination, colour, pattern sense and fit. Women bare the burden of proof and must coax, and prod to achieve those first tentative steps toward wardrobe acquisition. It does not come naturally for men. It is their cross, their albatross, their perpetual burden to carry through life.
Men for example, will come in at noon to get a black suit for a wedding or funeral to be held that same day and will often buy the first one they try on, which on one level is an example of time management skills and should be respected as such. But is so wrong on so many other levels I don’t know where to begin.
Some men will not even enter the store and expect their wives to bring clothing selections curb side to the waiting car or home only to have a great proportion of them returned later.
My rising star was a fifties something mechanic who met an exotic flower at the produce section of the local super market and asked her out on a date. He knew she was out of his league and so came in for a wardrobe to meet his needs. But what he needed even more was my up lifting banter on how she was right for him, how he needed to go through on this date, how good he would look and how wonderful this could be if only he would believe in himself. I sold him several outfits but I sent that guy out with confidence to meet his lotus blossom from the distant city. That man needed more than clothing.
Country men come in to be transformed by suit and tie as groomsmen in spring and summer weddings. Miracles can happen. We fit suits up to size 60.
Old men shop in traditional ways for their non-elastic socks and made in Canada Stanfield underwear. Big and Tall 6X men come in for massive tent-like shirts and pants.
Certain men can even pull off the fedora or bowler hat look while others go the Tilly route or the “old man cap” with the cardigan sweater. These all represent buying habits, in most cases, established through years of repetition with female assistance from mother to spouse until some men reach a level of pseudo independence.
“How does this look dear?”
“Whatever you think.” is the response as the wife tries to push the eaglet out of the nest. She is whispering to herself, “Fly little bird fly”.
“Just pick one.”
“I hate shopping can we go now?”
A set back.
“Please don’t get me more pants.”
Distraction
“Go look for some more underwear, you know the kind you like.”
“Would you look at the label of what I’m wearing?”
I avert my eyes as we are in a public place and these are adults.
She seems to be giving her husband a wedgie but in fact is reading the label on the inner recesses of his under wear.
He gets back on the pant theme.
“I have a closet full of pants. I only need three and can only wear one at a time (attempt at wit)...then an aside to me...”Every time we come in here she has me try on pants. I’ll do it. I just want to keep her happy.”
In the end its all about domestic peace.
“Now,” she adds, “Try on this polo top”. She attacks in small increments. I see she is good at what she does.
“You know they will shrink a bit.” He tells her in an attempt to sound knowledgeable.
He goes into the change room. There is a long silence followed by a crashing sound.
“Are you okay?” His wife says, with no alarm in her voice, probably aware of his delaying tactics.
“Yeah, Yeah.”
“Can I come in?” she says as she opens the door to the changing room.
I hear more commotion. The wife comes out with the polo shirt and hands it to me simply says, “Its a no go. He likes a really loose fit.”
She knows her man.
Eventually he comes out. Proudly places one pair of black Wrangler jeans and a pair of Stanfield underwear on the counter and says in a definitive manly tone. “I’ll take those.”
A man of action.
