Now is as good of a time as any to just come out and say it: I am a socialist. Anyone who knows me probably just audibly groaned as this is no grand revelation. I make my position on things known. Still, I’ve more or less refrained from the political thus far. This is overdue.

Us socialists are a fractured bunch. For every Marxist-Leninist you have an Anarchist, for every democratic socialist, you have a social democrat, and so on and so on. A particular prevailing attitude that I’ve noticed is one of “lifestyle socialism”. These lifestyle socialists seem rather interested in maintaining the aesthetic appearance of a socialist above all else. Many simply can not afford nice things and to be clear, this isn’t about them. I get it. I’m a socialist because I want a life of relative comfort and luxury for everyone! Anyway, at times I’ve found myself subject to ridicule due to a simple appreciation for some niceties that would be considered “bougie”. A nice dry aged steak. A masterfully crafted Negroni cocktail. Some sharp looking clothes. Let’s talk about the clothes.

In the not so distant past I had a lot of trouble dressing myself. I was still dealing with some grief and I just didn’t give a shit. In retrospect, it actually astounds me that someone was interested in dating me at the time. Seriously. Flannel, T-Shirt, Jeans. That sounds fine but not the way it looked on me:

I guess I looked the part, I mean that is a hammer and sickle on that t-shirt, but in reality I just did not give a shit. A far cry from the handsome fella taking the early 30’s dating scene by storm that stands before you today (feel free to roll your eyes). I do find myself reflective of how I got here and what it means for me in the present. You’re going to have to indulge me as I recount a rekindling of a friendship. This friend is not a person but a clothing brand (feel free to laugh at me now). Yes, it’s the story of how I found my old friend Ben Sherman.

Some months ago, after losing a significant amount of weight, I decided it was time to go shopping for some new clothes. I wandered aimlessly through the Macy’s at the Menlo Park Mall when I came across a table of merchandise marked as clearance. It was a familiar aesthetic, to be sure. “Ben, is that you?”, I recall asking. Indeed it was, a veritable smorgasbord of Ben Sherman brand clothing at deeply discounted prices! I grab as much as I can of various sizes as I had no clue what would fit me and I found a dressing room. “God damn, I look good”, I thought as I try on garment after garment. It was the beginning of something, I could feel it. No longer would I resign myself to the tattered rags of old, no, I would wear the same brand I was so fond of in my younger and decidedly more vulnerable years. I still had a closet replete with Ben Sherman shirts and they were finally going to have some company.

These days I hit up all the discount chains to see what I might potentially adorn this somewhat more strapping body with. Nordstrom Rack, Saks Off 5th, and Marshall’s are all regulars in the rotation. And you know what? It’s fucking fun. I have a blast finding deals on nice looking clothes. I’m a 33 year old socialist and I dress well. I feel good about myself. I think I’m a better socialist for it too. These are some wild and crazy ideas to have in a capitalist society and it’s an uphill battle. I might as well look good while I’m doing it. The clothes aren’t a reflection of my political beliefs, they’re a reflection of how I feel about myself. And god damn it, I feel good. Allow yourself to swoon:

Upon being convicted of sedition, the great American socialist, Eugene Debs, once said:

“While there is a lower class, I am in it, while there is a criminal element, I am of it, and while there is a soul in prison, I am not free.”

What an amazing expression of kinship and solidarity, but you know what? Debs knew how to dress alright. So did his successor, Norman Thomas, who was known for his three piece suits. Hell, Marx, Engels, Lenin and many others didn’t resign themselves to the uniform prescribed to them by economic elites.

Neither will I.