The other night when Mrs. Fruit and I were walking the dogs, we saw one of our neighbors, facing his house, wearing gigantic white socks. I was so mesmerized by his socks that I failed to notice his wife standing in the doorway staring at me. She probably thought I was lusting after her man, but I was thinking about those socks and how I had seen another neighbor, of roughly the same vintage, that very morning, doing yard work while wearing a Bjorn Borg type headband. One doesn't always see such things anymore, because most of us Americans keep somewhat up-to-date with fashion. We're good consumers.
Sometimes I try to extract myself from all the forces that influence fashion, and objectively think about whether a particular style or piece of clothing is actually attractive. The catalogs I've been getting recently are full of shirts that are sort of A-line, and cinched below the bosom. I'm not sure what you call them, but they're butt ugly, as far as I'm concerned. They probably would look good on me, hiding my belly and accentuating my obesity-induced boobs. But, I want no part of them.
When I saw my neighbors socks, I was trying to determine whether they actually looked good on him. And they did. But I'll pass on the headband.