I'm only 46 and today I wore my first official fashion deprived old man outfit
aarrrgghhhh.....
Let me explain...I had errands to run with my 73 year-old father and had already spent the morning moving the odd piece of furniture. I therefore put forth exhaustion and sleep deprivation which I battle constantly as an explanation of what followed.
My "tenishoes" (notice nobody actually says tennis shoes or athletic shoes) were nowhere to be found. so I grabbed a convenient pair of "other" shoes and convenient pair of pants and walked out the door. As I was getting in the car I noticed the shoes I had put on were an old pair of leather work/dress lace up loafers. They went well with the blue sweat pants and the black Adidas T-shirt I was wearing.
And then it hit me. Arrrrggggghhhh I am wearing an old man outfit I thought as I got in the black Kia we use for trips that do not involve carrying or ferrying cargo. You the outfit I speak of_ all those clothes your grandparents use to wear at the age  they stopped caring that knee high cowboy boots do not go with pastel day glow long johns and a denim NASCAR jacket with no shirt. That's an image from a long forgotten family reunion picnic on an east Texas lake, one I will not soon get out of my head.
 I looked at my father, who was born when there were no Interstates you could still take a train to LA, to comment on the fact I had worn my first old man outfit. When I saw that he was a wearing a faded blue polo and a pair of dark blue pants that hadn't fit since about 1974 I realized he was long past caring and already into the old man outfit.
I'm sure back in the day he drove his 55 Chevy hotrod around town drag racing fuel injected Cadillacs he never thought about wearing such things, or if he did they fit and were in style.
( Not that I care about such things you understand.)  I remember a similar experience a few years ago when people who knew me talked me into trimming my hair, which had grown to a second childhood, mid crisis shoulder length mop. The hairstylist giggled a bit as I told her how I wanted it cut and then a little more as she turned me around in the stylist chair to get a look at my hair.
"Nice mullet," someone just out of eyeshot said as I gazed at my new hair. "It's not a mullet," I started to say before realizing in horror that it actually was and sat back down in the chair with a sigh. Arrrgggh I said Charlie Brown style arrrggghhhh....