Vladimir Linen

Yesterday, I attended my first baseball game of the season. It was restorative to see that expansive field of green and the drunken malcontents yelling indecipherable insults at the players in the hopes a picayune viral incident frees them from their life of corporate turpitude. But that wasn’t what got me thinking. You see, I used to view the people who dressed up like the players as foolish boobs, deluded they might be given the opportunity to fill the roster in an emergency situation. Then there’s the whole aspect of wearing someone else’s name on your back, a humiliating advertisement for one’s own tolerance for self-inflicted indignities.

Maybe I thought there was more to these sartorially suspect individuals. Perhaps I was the problem, in my crisp blazer and silk tie. Here’s a thought. Sports fans are uniquely enthusiastic and passionate, something that ought to be lauded in a nihilistic society where earnestness of any kind is disturbing.

So I got to thinking. Why don’t circus lovers dress up as clowns for a big show under the big top? Where are the diners donning chef hats for dinner at their favorite new restaurant? Sure, Star Wars fanatics enjoy living in a galaxy far, far away – but most moviegoers wear popcorn instead of costumes. 

I wonder why leaders of countries aren’t more adventurous with their attire. You won, you’re in charge. Why not wear something fun? It’s true in democracies where a suit and tie is the norm. There’s very little room for self-expression. Authoritarian regimes are even worse. Which is odd, since you’d think they’d be the most willing to go a little rogue. But no, they stick to army fatigues and Maoist blazers. Repression in these countries extends to the color spectrum. It’s almost as if the decaying dictatorships believe the world is still shot in black and white. What else could explain a place like North Korea’s aversion to different hues? 

These are hot button issues. I might give a world leader the benefit of the doubt if he dressed more like Liberace and less like Lenin. Throw in some glitter, add a little linen, and sashay across the world stage like there’s no tomorrow. During the height of the Cold War, when nuclear obliteration was never more than a different hot button away, attire rarely reflected that dark potentiality. Instead, people played it safe, going with grays and conservative suits. 

While the Soviet Union was often referred to as the Iron Curtain, ironing was a foreign concept to anyone living behind it.