The radio comes to life on the bedside table, switched on as an alarm clock. It’s 6:45 in the morning and I roll over to check the time. The red illuminated numbers say just what I expected and it’s time to get up. I throw back the duvet and hang my legs over the side of the bed, ready to get up and think for a while. What will I wear today?
I stand up and slide open the wardrobe door to look at my suits hanging up in a neat row, youngest to the left and oldest to the right. I have a wide range to choose from, a small child of six years old, some teenagers, people in the prime of their lives, older people some professional and some less well to do and of course a few retirees. Most of them are white male. I do have a few female suits and some in different colours but I don’t wear them very often. I don’t seem to be able to carry them off.
The suits are perfect in every way, in every tiny detail, bones, flesh, gristle and nerves all wrapped in cotton, wool and leather. I prefer not to wear man made fabrics. The decision as to which one to pick takes a bit of thought though as each has its own characteristics and idiosyncrasies. There are certain conditions that go with each of them. Suits of the under eighteens aren’t allowed to do certain things and are not allowed to go into certain places. Older suits have to obey the laws of the land and adhere to strict social etiquette. When I slip into a younger suit I lose a degree of experience that I have and find some things difficult to achieve or understand. This is especially true when it comes to relationships. I feel that I am invincible however, will try anything new and will take untold risks. It is the opposite when I put on the older suits. I am much more measured, much more circumspect but still believe I can run as fast and play as hard as if I was in a much younger suit, which needless to say I can’t.
The younger suits are more difficult to manage. They are all over the place, always wanting to be somewhere else and never letting you sit still. They work well late into the night but they are a bit sluggish in the morning. Hand to eye coordination is great but when wearing one I always feel hungry. On the other hand the older suits are tried and tested but are a bit more sluggish and hurt a little every so often. They come equipped with a lot of subtle emotions and social tools such as irony, pathos and nuance which can prove to be very useful when around other suits of a similar build.
I’ve made my choice and pick out a middle aged man, a little over weight but about average height. I’ve worn this suit many times and am quite comfortable in it as it is well run in and I think it suits my character well. I know that it may not be the slickest of the suits I have and it is getting a bit threadbare in parts but when I am wearing it everything just seem to work as it should.
I slip it on and slide the wardrobe door closed. I check myself in the mirror to make sure everything is straight. I pull at the cuffs and straighten up the tie and get ready to play the part that the suit demands. Tomorrow I think I’ll wear something a bit more adventurous, something I haven’t tried on for some time.
Thoughts from a Guerrilla Worker 