No Sweat

I’m confused. While I do realize that, for me, being slightly discombobulated simply means all cylinders are firing per usual, I have reason to believe today’s mental state is in response to an actual set of circumstances, which I will explain in a second.

My job is to write about apparel, we know this. And over the course of the past year covering style for PM, a few truths have unceremoniously revealed themselves to me:

1) Our industry can’t (and quite possibly, won’t) catch up to retail.

2) Moisture-wicking shirts are the next big thing.

3) When presented with cookies from Fresh Beginnings, I will eat them like they’re the cure.

I’m positive (almost) I’ve retained more info than the above, but in the interest of brevity, I’ll leave it at that. This blog post is primarily concerned with the first two, the third was just an extra-special glimpse into my eating habits that I know you’re grateful for.

Anyway. For the past month, I’ve been searching for a long-sleeve, moisture-wicking dress shirt for my dad. We’ve got a summer wedding coming up and, frankly, the man is a dancing fool. Suffice it to say, the mystical moisture-wicking properties so lauded by our industry could definitely come in handy.

And wouldn’t you know it? I’m actually having trouble finding one. At least, one that’s actually up to par with the stuff I’ve seen on our trade-show floors. If he wanted to wear a moisture-wicking golf polo or Nike T-shirt, it wouldn’t be such a problem, but as he is a man of style (after all, I am his offspring), I’m sure that the mere suggestion would offend his sartorial sensibilities.

Maybe I’m simply bad at Googling things, but I’d like to think that—in this one, shining example—we just might have bested the retail industry. So, long story short, chalk up one point for promotional wearables. Go forth, give moisture-wicking corporate/dress shirts the hard sell—now they’re handy AND unique—and wait for the day retail catches up to us.

But I can’t bask in the glow of this victory too long. I have to go convince old Lord of the Dance that a Nike wicking T-shirt will look awesome beneath his suit.

Right.

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