I am no friends of uniforms. Choosing the clothing I want is not something too essential for me, but a part of my personal liberty I value very much. I could really do a bit more in this departement.
What I can not stand anymore to see and watch is a certain brood of middle-aged men who wear all the same, who voluntarily uniform themselves. Somewhere between their early thirties and late forties, with declining hair-line, they let it grow in their faces and go not bearded – heavens ! – but just unshaven.
Their clothing is simply nondescript, just cloth – vain as they are there may be labels, on the inside.
To balance the stuff growing out of their faces they wear a kind of rat-tail (Ger., Eng.) at the other side of their heads – either the hair is so thin (because of age) that there’s simply not enough left for a real ponytail, or they blubber nonsense about “antizyklische Mode”, cultural references, or – most likely – simply ignore the question, because they have absolutely no answer besides the charming “that’s how to wear it these days”.
The worst is of course the glasses, with the black plastic rim – here an example for those who are too dumb to print it out by themselves.
Of course it’s nonsense to assess or even value a person because of their looks, the Phänotyp says nothing about the inner organisation of a human creature. But the blokes in question (biqs – ?) all the time have to say something to and about all and everything, they are unstoppable blabbing machines. And if they shut up for a moment, they try to smile, but produce only a smug grin.
And this is really repulsive.