I have entered an unholy sanctum, I think to myself, a black hole of terror that all straight, white man-children fear: Belk.
To be clear, Belk is actually a pleasant place. The sales associates are friendly and helpful, the store is well-maintained and the merchandise is pretty much what you would expect from a typical clothing store. By itself, Belk is not scary.
Fashion is scary. Like a vampire fears garlic, sunlight and wooden stakes, I fear polo shirts, non-khaki pants and shirttails that aren’t designed tuck into your waistband. I’m 24 years old, but I have the fashion sensibilities of a very old, downtrodden dad.
For the past five months (and, honestly, even longer than that) I’ve worn the same rotation of button up shirts to work, and I’ve owned the same pair of dress shoes for years. My last pair of sneakers came from Target. They cost $10.
I do sometimes spice things up with a nice pair of jeans or a long-sleeve shirt, but that’s only when I’m feeling super risky. Typically, I go for the classic long-sleeve button up and khaki pants combo — a fashion statement that says, “This is the bare minimum required to look professional in a work setting.” I pull it off OK.
My mission to Belk on this fateful weekend had one objective: I was going to break the mold on David Floyd fashion. I was going to choose something that I would never normally wear under any circumstance, and with one life-altering decision, change how the world perceived David Floyd.
After about 20 minutes of furtively scouring the racks and 10 minutes of staring at my reflection in the changing room with heavy dose of mistrust, I ended up buying three pairs of khakis and three button up shirts. BUT, those three button up shirts look good untucked. For me, that in itself is progress.
Change, it turns out, is incremental. And the clothes were on sale, so at least I got a pretty good deal.