Back from a whirlwind vacation to various points in the mid-South -- six days, 2500 miles, several rounds of golf and too many chain restaurant meals. No poker. I did wave in the general direction of a few blogger-types when passing by on the interstate, but no stops were made.
One of the destinations was Augusta, Georgia, hometown of James Brown, birthplace of the Southern Baptist denomination and, more importantly, the winter playground of a bunch of rich old guys who got some money together and built a golf course. Then they decided to have a private tournament, somewhere along the line CBS and John Mellencamp got involved and now it's as commercial as Christmas. I'm referring, of course, to the Masters. It's such a stupidly big deal that they even sell tickets to the practice rounds. How could I not go?
I brought the camera along and managed to get some decent pictures. I won't bore you with them. I also was inspired by the presence of a few oddballs. Fashion victims. Let me explain if you've never been to a golf tournament -- picture a sea of khaki shorts and capri pants. Stuff men of various sizes into the former, women of differing shapes into the latter. That's a golf tournament crowd. Especially at the Masters, which is the most "decorous" (read: stuffy) crowd in the U.S.
Since I didn't have a Change100 or other fashion expert handy, you get me. ***
Let's get to it, then -- here are some hits and misses from Augusta '07 along with a few helpful hints.
MISS: PLUS FOURS. Good god, dear sir. You were making a bold enough statement with the cap, the golf shoes and the stunningly ugly socks -- the plus fours really put your ensemble over the top.
If time travel becomes possible sometime soon, I'll be sure to reserve you a slot for Scotland circa 1876.
HIT: "HOSTESSES" (not pictured, dammit). Most golf tournaments, women wearing very little are probably actually working as hostesses in corporate amenity tents set up as part of the production. Not at the Masters - no tents. So when you meet these ladies in Augusta, you can be confident that their hostessing is taking place at strip clubs and hotel rooms all over town.
Maybe this is a miss, the couple that I saw weren't especially good looking even by minor-league standards.
What ever happened to common sense? Sure, flip flops are kind of fashionable among the young and stupid -- the same people who made trucker hats 'hip', which is apparently an alternate definition for "retarded looking".
America's orthopaedists thank you for ignoring arch support when walking for miles.
HIT: YELLOW JUMPSUITS AND GREEN JACKETS
Most places, you see a jumpsuit, you think of someone on work detail from the county lockup. Not at Augusta.
Here, the smooth characters wearing all yellow are members of the random cleanup crew. Pretty decent gig, walking around with a stick "looking" for stray bits of trash to spear. Given the complete lack of debris, what you have is the easiest sanitation engineering job on the planet -- and a free pass to the tournament.
If you want to get in on the action and don't have a yellow jumpsuit handy, you might consider bringing a green sportcoat. There are a bunch of guys dressed like this who act like they own the place.
In fact, the only guys with golf carts are the guys wearing green jackets and let's face it, what's more fun than tooling around on a golf cart?
MISS: EURO-STYLE (not pictured). You'd better be both European and very secure in your manhood to wear bicycle shorts to the Masters. Given that you were wearing a Swedish flag hat, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt. If you were actually from Dubuque, however, I'm going to have to hand you a box of Summer's Eve.
Seriously, though, congratulations on that workout program.
MISS: EMO KIDS.
Yeah, we get it. You don't want to be here. You were forced to come by your parents and you probably spent the two hour drive over from Atlanta listening to Sunny Day Real Estate on your iPod.
It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Everything IS your fault. The world WOULD be a better place if you had never been born.
MISS: Security Guards. (not pictured) Although working security at the Masters is probably a pretty swell gig, the uniforms looked downright unpleasant. Scratchy polyesther work clothes, physical activity and 80 degree days don't sound like good times to me.
MISS: BADGER FANS.
Pretty much self-explanatory. Sorry, StB, you know it's true.
(*** anyone who knows me is aware that having me critique fashion is like having Stevie Wonder judge a painting contest)