Originally published Asheboro Courier-Tribune. June 30, 2017.
This will be a painful topic. I am compelled to address all of my brothers/sons under age 35 with a serious concern. Because my son is finishing college I am invested in the future of our country.
It all started with acid and the crazy upheavals of the 60s. We’ve never been the same. It is still with us and poses a serious threat to your current and future well-being. Women, please share this column with any of your loved male ones between the ages of 25 and 35.
What is “it”? Rompers for men. Also known as brompers, bro-rompers, or bromphims. The ever-interestingly attired Cam Newton has even been sporting rompers. Get on the internet and search “Cam Newton Rompers.”
Guys, I know what I’m talking about. I am a child of the 60s and 70s. Don’t do anything you’ll look back on and regret. Better, think of the children. Specifically YOUR future children and grandchildren who will look at your photos in 30 years. Imagine the incredulous looks. The screaming and embarrassment. “Dad? DAD! Wha, wha . . . .”
Somewhere back in the 60s “fashion” came to men’s clothing. Before then men wore solid-looking clothes (although the 50s suits look a little tight), button down oxford cloth shirts, tasteful slacks, sensible shoes. Things I began to wear after I came to my senses.
Social upheaval, acid, the sexual revolution, the Beatles – blame it on something – but suddenly women forced men to wear things they wouldn’t have worn five years earlier with guns at their temples.
Big square-toed shoes with stacked heels. Pants beginning below the ribs, and as snug as cellophane, extending down, flaring out dramatically at knee level into huge bell bottoms.
Tucked into those pants, a silky shirt in a bold red, green, yellow, and orange stripe with billowy sleeves poofing out of four inch cuffs. Unbuttoned half way to the navel. Collars the size of great white shark fins extended out to the shoulders.
Hair, carefully styled, covered half the ear. And then the porn star moustache.
For the biblically-oriented, we’re talking Matthew 18:9 time here.
A bad dream? No. It happened. Presumably these young men had mothers, sisters and girlfriends who loved them. Where were they? Why did they let this happen?
Although I have no proof, it may have been Jimmy Carter’s fault.
I can’t help but think this was the same era that gave us Jonathan Livingston Seagull. And Love Story with Ali Macgraw and Ryan O’Neal (think of Ryan in that outfit I just described). That movie also inflicted us with “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” Any of you bros who are married know what a crock that is! It’s daily, man, daily.
Back to the Future
Much of that awfulness died out in the late 80s (again, no proof, but think of Reagan and the military buildup). But like a hibernating Ebola strain this stuff can come back. Some of us need to stop it before it becomes deadly.
Just because a football hero the likes of Cam Newton thinks it is OK, doesn’t make it right.
We all know what rompers are. When my son was a little guy he had many. A one piece top-and-shorts outfit. Snaps running up each inseam and along the crotch made for quick work when doody called.
The rompers idea caught on with the women. Without the snaps, I believe. On many women they even look good.
A few weeks ago I heard someone mention brompers on the radio. Curiosity piqued, I looked up brompers on the internet.
It took a few minutes of research. Then a chuckle or two. But with a growing sense of horror I knew. The virus was back.
Yes, and pictures of Cam in a floral number. But let’s face it, not even Cam would wear that down to the local Tractor Supply.
Unlike the 70s, however, we have smart internet cookies that know what we’ve been looking at. Now, on all my “platforms” I am being bombarded with advertisements for brompers and romphims. My wife probably suspects I’ve been thinking about them. Obviously I have. But not with me in them.
My parting words, guys: Don’t. Just. Don’t. Do. It.
PS: Need an extra laugh? Check this out: