"textualist" had some things to say about laundry attire.
Is there also a "Fuck me, I don't give a fuck" garment? And if so, what could it possibly be? Ripped fishnets?
I know a guy who went home (on Halloween) with a girl who had opted for a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle ensemble.
Later, having ended up at his house, I donned the girl's (now-discarded) polypropylene turtle shell and rode my bike across town, to another house where that shell still resides.
Weeks later, we had an awkward discussion about the evening.
Maybe it's just that I'm commenting Becks style (and as a lurker, it's about the only way I comment), but the ellipses leave out the part where, wearing his "I don't give a fuck" shirt, he gives off the "I don't give a fuck" attitude, and he gets a number. Which doesn't exactly make it the opposite of Fuck Me shoes.
Of course, it's only fairly recently that I my wardrobe expanded out of the "I don't give a fuck" category, so what do I know.
...I'm a little bothered by "tighty whities" being part of his "I don't give a fuck" ensemble. Those are underwear, right? (Always got to check my understanding of the patois is au courant.) Does the boxer shorts/briefs decision really play that big a role in how "dressed" you look when you go out? 'Cause unless I'm missing something vis à vis the latest vogue, your date will not see them until after the fucking decision has already been at least mostly made.
1. I assume underwear is the ne plus ultra of "I don't give a fuck." If a woman knows she's not going home with anyone that night, why not wear the comfortable granny underwear? Same, I guess, with briefs - tho' guys who don't wear boxers give me the creeps; I just assume they're serial killers.
2. "The Assimilated Negro" is my favorite new phrase. Gawd, I just love the sound of it. I'm almost certain I'm going to use it in the wrong place and in the wrong way and get beat up. But I'm not going to be able to stop myself.
5. I think the "embarrassing the angels" crowd talks about kids wearing pants that show their underwear. But I suspect that's not part of the "I don't give a fuck" look. (Though dubious underwear can be part of the laundry day look for other reasons.)
SCMT is totally right. A big part of "I don't give a fuck" dressing is wearing either the godawful underwear you should have thrown away years ago, or skipping underwear entirely.
The least fuck-giving "I don't give a fuck" ensemble: Mr. B.'s hand-me-down gray sweats (with holes, no less, and bloodstains in the crotch), wool socks, and dirty hair in a ponytail b/c I can't stand the way it feels around my face.
Yes, I have been known to wear this out of the house. Mostly only to places where I won't take my coat off, but, still.
I'll endorse the underwear idea, but it seems to me I have an entire wardrobe of "I don't give a fuck" clothing. Mostly it's the difficulty I have with throwing anything away, but it's not laundry, which I should do when I've nothing to wear but the bottom, my personal worst, is probably too far down for me to run out of clothes. It's the needs of the rest of my family that force laundry.
What's the matter with me that I wear this stuff nearly every day?
I suspect I have nothing but various "I don't give a fuck" ensembles.
If a friend has forced me to some hideous sceney bar, I will go, but while my friend has put on her cutest outfit, I appear next to her as the possibly-homeless girl wearing a found Oxford shirt, cut up and resewed, a fancy skirt that has been allowed to fall apart due to three years of washer-dryer treatment, and thigh-high red-and-purple striped socks.
You're thinking, "Wow, that could look kind of hip and boho and cute." Nope, it looks crazy. I only wear cute clothes to uncool divey places.
In retrospect, mine isn't an "I don't give a fuck" outfit; it's a "Fuck you, don't talk to me" outfit.
Mostly only to places where I won't take my coat off, but, still.
As much as I'm sick of the cold weather and ready for winter to be over, I'm going to miss the host of ills one can cover up with a coat. Out of milk? Need to run an errand? No problem in winter - just throw a coat on over your pajamas and head out the door. You don't even need to bother putting on a bra. No-coat summertime errands are far more annoying.
I was a better commenter as textualist. My girlfriend has discarded all of my hole-in-the-crack weekend warriors, and my powers have diminished.
Pretty much all I wear in the summer is "I don't give a fuck" clothes. Ancient T-shirts and ragged shorts is pretty much it.
I have a theory that some days don't count. They are freebies, not included when Peter assesses one's performance, not going to add a wrinkle or "character line" to one's face, not going to benefit or detract in any way. Just a day that doesn't count. I know these days when I get up in the morning.
On those days I don't give a fuck what I am wearing.
Of course others might so I have to maintain acceptable standards for employment but that kind of compromise doesn't matter because it is a day that doesn't count.
#13: See, I have way fewer "I don't give a fuck" days when it's sunny. And wearing jeans or a skirt and a camisole is really easy, and doesn't look like crap.
If a woman knows she's not going home with anyone that night
The thing that signals this for most women I know is not shaving their legs. In fact, I have heard more than once of a woman meeting a man and deliberately choosing not to shave her legs for the occasion, to insure that she doesn't sleep with him. It works as a reminder--oh yeah, that's right, I'm seeing someone else/he's the ex who broke my heart/I'm holding out for the third date or whatever.
I haven't given a fuck since 1984. Seriously.
I don't think leg shaving is the critical factor. Far more important is the choice of bra and underwear.
But then, I only shave my legs when the weather is warm.
Isn't a bit self-contradictory to deliberately choose to wear "don't give a fuck" clothing? In that case, you do give a fuck, you just want others to think that you don't give a fuck. The only authentic "don't give a fuck" clothing is the clothing you aren't really aware is hideous. See what I mean? Hipsters are all about the "don't give a fuck" look, when in reality they give a lot more fuck than the rest of us.
Too clever by half, blah. You decide that you don't care what others think about how you look, and then you choose clothes on another basis - comfort, cleanliness, etc.
Though you're kidding yourself if you think some people don't decide what to wear on the basis of whether or not it will successfully communicate their giving of no fucks.
I didn't think we were talking about you, specifically, w-lfs-n. If so, I retract #22.
I have so much goddamn sangfroid that I convey fucknogiving no matter the circumstance or clothing.
And is not clothing, as that which "stands around" us most closely, the essence of the circumstance? For truly is it said "clothes make the man", yet until now this pre-ontological idea has not been Interpreted in its ontological significance.
I think the kids call that "taking it to the next level," w-lfs-n.
For work--the one place in my life where I probably should "give a fuck" about what I'm wearing as it, right or wrong, can affect things like raises and promotions-- I am usually in clothing that is "can I get by wearing this in a 'business casual' environment". In the mornings I am always trying to get out of the house (not to mention the bed) on time. If it's somewhat clean (doesn't stink), somewhat matches, and not tooo wrinkled, I slap on the first thing I can find. Usually my hair is unbrushed, my beard looks like it belongs on a terrorist in a cave somewhere, and my face unwashed. I put a lot more effort and time into things like outfit selection and personal hygiene for Saturday morning errands. Maybe this is too much information but I don't know you people so there.
Maybe this is too much information
Did you read the colonoscopy post? IOW, certainly not, make yourself comfortable and tell us more.
The existence of "I don't give a fuck" ensembles inevitably gives rise to IDGAF-ensemble regret. Like last night, when I was dragged out to an art show by my friend and wore said ensemble in protest (she, meanwhile, looked like a fucking movie star), then ended up having an extended conversation with a very cute boy who I should have known I would see, being as that the only other time I've seen him was at the very same gallery. Damnit.
31: One of the three great romantic disasters of my life came when I was on the road, wearing nerd glasses patched with tape because my supercool rimless glasses had been broken. Nerd glasses were utterly not cool then, especially not patched. I hit it off wonderfully with this great woman who was reevaluating her relationship with a jerkish guy, and I'll always believe that my glasses contributed heavily to getting me stuck in the "best-friend" supporting role.
After a certain point in the evening, I ditch pants for pajama bottoms. They're just more comfortable. At least once a week, however, my wife discovers, at a later point in the evening, that we need something from the grocery store. So I go. In pajama bottoms. The high-school girls hanging out in the open-air Starbucks adjacent to the supermarket entrance giggle, but I figure one of the virtues of middle age is not having to give a damn anymore what 17-year-old girls think until my own turns 17.
Mustachioed fuck me shoes!
Would each shoe have its own moustache?
With all due respect to the moustache theorists, I submit that the true metaphysical opposite of fuck-me shoes is this hat.