[Mr. B. Scott Robinson]

My typical daily wardrobe consists of brown brogues, solid color socks, khakis, a leather belt, a BB dress shirt, a waist coat, a jacket and an occasional tie. My wardrobe is mostly mundane with some sartorial flashes, nothing special. The waistcoat is what gets the most attention.

I am known at my work as one of the better dressed men. I find this a sad commentary on how standards have collapsed.

A few things that work for me that place me at the pinnacle of the work dress pyramid: My clothes fit, they are well made, they create a unified look, they are clean and pressed.

I spend about $1500 per year on clothes with shoes taking the biggest bite of the budget. This year, I went a bit over the average since I had to buy an entire white tie ensemble.

Cheers,

BSR

 

[Mr. B. Scott Robinson]

I deal with it a bit at church. I'm the only guy in his 30s (actually, I believe within the entire contemporary service) whom wears a sport coat/blazer/suit. They make comments, in good fun, but they always end the ribbing with a compliment.

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When a succession of preachers stopped wearing suits and french cuffs, swapping these for jeans and untucked OCBD shirts, my faith was shaken. When "praise music" replaced the old standards, I cashed in my membership as a Southern Baptist and fled the country.

As we are all aware, Jesus wore a tie. He also does not want to be my boyfriend.

Cheers,

BSR

 

[Mr. B. Scott Robinson]

I’m still trying to determine why a creator God would create us as broken vessels and then command us to be made whole through redemption, with some predestined to fail in this journey. Bad luck for them.

I would have much preferred to have been created perfect from the outset and avoid all the trouble. From my read, we are still on humankind version 1.0 Noah which was seen as rather glitchy from the get go.

A new faith...

Those wearing ties to church should be first in line for salvation with those dressed to mow the church lawn cast into a lake of fire?

Organist saved, bongo “players” damned?

White shoes outside of Easter/Memorial Day....firey furnace for certain?

Hands kept firmly at ones side during the invitational hymn with violators left to clean up after Wednesday night supper?

Brown shoes with black belts cast into purgatory?

Or we could learn to proceed in life with our sense of humor as our shield and our ability to be self deprecating as our flaming sword leaving our breast plate of self righteousness somewhere along the side of the road to Damascus.

Cheers,

BSR