Arts Try Wearing an Ascot
Savage’s entry below about the demise of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy reminded me of a very vivid dream I had the other night in which I was wearing an ascot (those foofy scarves which are wrapped around the neck and tucked into an open shirt):
I was dating Jessica Simpson and apparently the relationship was getting serious. So I felt the right thing to do was to introduce myself to her father, Joe Simpson. For the event, I decided to wear an ascot. After trying it on and looking in the mirror, I decided I looked like a fucking idiot. However, when I pulled the ascot off, I noticed my shirt was open almost to my navel, and my chest was so hairy, it looked like someone had pasted a badger on it. So I put the ascot back on. When I met Joe Simpson, he shook my hand and said, “So. You’re the young man who’s been dating my daughter. And an ascot wearer, as well! You, sir, are a man of distinction with whom I would share my brandy anyday.”
I am now convinced everyone should wear ascots.
Feel free to interpret this dream.
I wear ascots all the time. Not so much in the summer, though I wore an orange polka dot number to my sister's wedding a couple of weeks ago.