Michele Hanson longs for middle-aged men to turf out their dull clothes, and squeeze themselves into frills, wigs and frocks..
I have spotted the odd exception, starting at Art School in the Sixties. For a start there was our model, Quentin Crisp in a bold pink and grey striped jumper and purply hair, and then there was our teacher Bill. He would take his mac off and swirl it around to show the bright yellow lining. And he wore stripey Indian silk ties and pale mauve shirts and he read out Lady Chatterley's Lover in dialect. This was a horribly embarrassing experience for us, but at least he tried. And he was middle-aged. That little length of coloured tie, that half-secret bright yellow lining. That was middle-aged man going wild. All the rest wore dreary suits. Or jeans and T-shirts.
Of course the young wore thrilling clothes - remember those velvet flares and the coloured waistcoats with little mirrors on from India and the beads and long hair, and all the pop stars and punks and goths. But then the boys grew older and gave it all up.
Now here we are in 2001 and a man may still not wear a frock. Look at the fuss over Beckham's skirt. I thought it rather fetching. The only brightly coloured garment your average middle-aged man wears is his football shirt. Round here, on match days, they all wear red bobble hats and shirts and go shouting and roaring round the streets. Otherwise, there they are on the sofas, blobbing out in their drab clothes.
I ask them why and discover a sad truth. Apparently, inside the dreary exterior, there is often an thrilling creature desperate to get out. Secretly, my friend Ian longs to wear a cowboy shirt, leopard skin boots and a big stetson, but he dare not. And my friend Clayden is keen to wear his big Nigerian dashiki, or a kilt. But he can't. Why not? Because they're frightened they'll get bashed up. In these brutish times, other men, in dull clothes, will think they're show-offs, homosexual or very rich and posh, and punch their lights out.
What a pity - all those thrilling personalities trapped in suits and waiting to be expressed. But we have seen a ray of hope. Yesterday Tanya's husband left the sofa, put on a green velvet suit and gold tie and went out to play. And he came home alive. So come on boys, time to come out. We know you're in there. We believe you. Thousands wouldn't.
Previous dull men
