Arguments for a varied wardrobe

I like wearing dark colors. I favor black, dark blue, dark green, and various shades of grey.

I have my reasons. They vary from "it doesn't show the coffee I just spilled on my shirt all that easily" to "Mom wouldn't let me wear this when I was a kid" to "I think this makes me look like a badass if I super-charge my imagination" to whatever.

In winter-ish time, most folks wear variations of a black or dark grey coat, sweaters, dark pants, etc.

And headwear.

So I get dressed this morning. It's cold.

Being the delicate little creature I am, I layer. Wool hoodie over a shirt. Leather jacket over that. Black thug cap to protect the delicate scalp from the chilly morning air.

I paused and glanced in the mirror. I looked like a cartoon hoodlum for a bad TV show. You know the sort. The kind of character whom the good guy shoots/beats senseless/whatever in an orgy of ridiculous violence at any given point in the story.

"Cool", I thought.

I headed out.

And drove right through a surprisingly-extensive police action.

I have no idea what the hell was going on. There was police tape being taken down. There were cops all over the place.

And it's early in the morning.

Without a second's thought, that tiny voice in the back of my head drowned out all the others (I really should stop joking about voices in the head) and reminded me that I look like a cartoon thug. And it's dark out. And clearly something went down. And I'd rather not be late to work for looking like someone the police want to chat with (even if I've done nothing wrong).

Paranoia, you are a strange mistress.

Yanked the cap off my head. Drove polite as my dear departed grandmother would.

The cops, of course, didn't worry about me. I'm driving a car that looks harmless. I'm clearly some dork who works too goddamn early.