By the way I (usually) dress you wouldn’t be able to tell that I work in a stock brokerage firm, but my devoted readers won’t be surprised as they already know that I am a whore of convenience. I’ll often wear the same pair of trusty-dusty-blue-and-musty blue jeans throughout the work week and alternate between a set of 10 or so trendy t-shirts. I rock the funky fly former gym sneaks from the discount store, and I always have on matching socks. — In my world, casual Friday lasts as long as I have a clean t-shirt to wear. Head to toe in the comforts of 20-something fashion my co-workers call me Mr. California Casual and Life is oh so good.

That is of course until yesterday when Mr. California Casual was put into a comma.

Those handy jeans of mine decided it was time to part ways above my upper thigh. I was halfway tempted to keep my sexy thigh exposed , but of course, nobody loves my spicy red boxers as much as that cute Italian girl I’ve been seeing. Besides, there was no way I was going to go to work looking like an 80’s Revival, West Side Story, Puerto Rican with my pants all shredded up. Suffice it to say my clothing cycle had been rudely interrupted and to make matters worse, the hours that were allocated last weekend to do my laundry were somehow reallocated to doing absolutely nothing but lying around in bed all day (with said hot Italian girl).

So there I was in my unbeweavable web of nothing-to-wearness when I suddenly remembered the Technicolor rainbow in the back of my bedroom closet: every color button up shirt and matching tie begging to be worn. It has been many moons since they’ve seen the light of day, but with nothing else to wear it was gonna be some shirt’s lucky day.

I slipped on my Kenneth Coles, twice. Strapped up in the button clad shirt and spiked my hair like the punk rapper that everyone else thinks I am and left my house looking like a million bucks; though to be quite honest I felt like a million more.

With my chin up and my ego uninhibited by the common “Why are you so dressed up today, did you run out of clean clothes again?” commentary from my co-workers I made my way to the local mart. Snapping up the tile floor with the clicks of my fancy shoes, onlookers wondered what a man as incredibly sexy (that day) and intellectual looking (everyday) as myself was doing with three boxes of strawberries.

“She likes strawberries and her brother died in Iraq a year ago today”, I assured them.

However their illusions of what I might have intended were fully realized when I went for the $50 bottle of champagne instead of the $5 ones that were on sale (I could have bought 10 of them! doh!).

To them, I was clearly out of my mind.

I felt like a super hero unleashed from the reigns of clark-Kentedness.

Still, down the isles I flew to the cash register where the lady checking out my groceries said to me “You look like you are on cloud 9; are you in love?”

And then I had to ask myself: Was this hot Italian girl making me crazy or was my self-induced super hero euphoria sending my self worth through the roof? After departing the mart and noticing the way everybody was glancing at me I concluded the latter.

Funny how people give you lots more attention and respect when you’re well dressed.

Funny too, how you feel like a super hero when you’re well dressed.

Suffice it to say that the hot Italian girl was pleasantly surprised to have a well dressed man with strawberries and champagne at her door. The well dressed part was entirely on accident, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her that. I just told her “Baby, I just wanted to make sure you were happy today.”

And she respected me. Thoroughly.

Still, as I sit here at my desk wearing exactly what I wore yesterday, I can’t help but wonder if I will ever be content knowing the powers I have when I’m not wearing my normal Clark Kents –worse am I falling for this Italian girl?