I just went through my closet and culled clothing for Goodwill. Or as those of us who spent some of our formative years in the South say it, the Goodwill.

I'm culling not for weight loss -- although there's been some of that -- but for pleats. Pleats are over. They've been over for a couple of years now in the major cities but I haven't wanted to surrender my beloved Zanellas.

Product placement alert: Zanellas are the dress slacks God would wear if he didn't wear dresses. They cost a fortune, but you don't know just how nice a pair of slacks can be till you've worn Zanellas.

I'm naturally bitter about this culling because I never liked pleats to begin with. I resisted for years. I wore nothing but jeans because I hated pleats. They seemed, not to put too fine a point on it, a little fey, a little dandyish. (Yes, kind of like this entire post.)

But as the pleat plague wore on and on I had no choice but to give in. Occasionally I need to wear some grown up clothes, so I swallowed hard, drew out my trusty Amex card and bought in.

And now the fuckers switch to flat front. And now I no longer live in Chicago where the stores are only a year behind New York, I live in Chapel Hill where the lag is closer to four years, so I can't even buy replacements. No, not even at Nordstroms.

It's an outrage. At least I never fell for the short topcoat heresy, I've stiff-armed the bright pink-striped dress shirts with contrasting collars, and I successfully hedged my bets on the three button blazer.

In any case, we need to all pull together on this next time. In about three years the fashionistas will try to force us back into pleats. We need to stand firm. We need to stand together. Say no to pleats, now and forever.

This entry was posted by Michael Reynolds, on Tuesday, August 15, 2006. You can leave your response.