Unique Sartorial Style

 

I find that one way to go around incognito and also not to be disturbed by people on the bus, in the library or generally in the street is by wearing scruffy clothes. I have an old hat I use when gardening. So I put that on. Also an old T shirt and a pair of jeans with large holes at the knees. Fashionable these days, I am told. I also put on an old coat with a tear in one pocket and stains from working on the car or painting the garden fence and gate.

I am told I look like a sex symbol for the woman who doesn't care.

But at least it keeps people away. No one sits next to me on the bus, or in the library when I'm reading the business papers, and on the streets people usually cross the road to the other side to avoid me.

I am also not recognised, which is good. Although one day someone actually had the temerity to stop me despite my disguise aimed at dissuading anyone from approaching me. 

He asked me if I am Alphonse Goodbetter, whoever he is. I said I wasn't. He asked, "are you sure?"

His wife then said that Alphonse Goodbetter is dead. The man insisted that he wasn't because here I am in the flesh, Alphonse Goodbetter the circus fire eater. 

They got into an argument as to whether I was Alphonse the fire eater and sword swallower. Eventually they did not know what to believe and they asked me, "What do you think? Are you Alphonse or not? He had long hair like yours only longer. Blond hair and a little singed at the edges."

I replied that I was off to the circus to put my head into a lion's mouth, and I walked away.

On another occasion I was outside the bank trying to get some money from the ATM machine. A bank clerk saw me from a window and grew suspicious of my attire. Two security guys came out and asked me, politely but forcibly, to follow them into the bank.  

Once inside I was asked whether this was my Debit Card I was using to get money from the ATM. I said it was. They asked me my name. It tallied with the card. They were not convinced so they asked if I had any ID cards or anything with my photo on it, like a driving licence. I didn't.

They asked me to prove I was who I said I was. I said that if they gave me a mirror that would prove I was who I am by just looking at it. They were not amused.

There was no way to prove I was who I really am. Without any documents or anyone to vouch for me I could have been anybody. At least I knew I was not Alphonse Goodbetter because he is apparently dead. Or is he?

A manager then tapped a few things on the computer and asked me to name my employer who credits my salary into my account. I got that one right. He asked me for any out-going payments like electricity, water and so on. I named most regular monthly payments I could remember that I make from my account. That convinced him.

He looked at me up and down once or twice and said, "We have to check for security reasons, Sir!"

You'll note he called me "Sir". Up to that point I was addressed as if I was a tramp, or beggar as befits my clothing.

As I left the bank I ran into my boss. He recognised me. He looked me up and down suspiciously and said nothing.

I smiled and said I was going to a fancy-dress party.

He said, "What? In the middle of the day?" and walked away.

When I got home the priest and a couple of nuns were there collecting for the homeless shelter in town. 

After they left, my wife gave me the silent treatment all day. Obviously she is not a woman who doesn't care!