Dave’s Blurb for October

Poppa, do you have a costume for
Halloween? My granddaughter asks as she’s modeling her Greek goddess costume
for me—for the umpteenth time. I tell her I’ve dressed up as a lot of things
over the years: Raggedy Andy, the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz, Mad Max, and a
hobo. She suggests I go as Batman this year and twirls around the kitchen.

As a grown-up, I don’t need a
holiday to put on a costume and pretend I’m someone else. This morning I woke
up and put on my design-firm-owner-and-magazine-publisher outfit—which
typically consists of a button down shirt, khakis, brown shoes and a brown
belt. When I want to mix it up a little, I go with black shoes and a black
belt—yes, I’m wild like that.

My all-time favorite costume is
the “Dave.” I would wear it everyday if I could. It’s an ensemble that consists
of a pocket tee-shirt and pair of jeans that my wife hasn’t made “disappear”
yet. This is my working-on-motorcycles-and-cars look. It’s great in the privacy
of my garage but is inherently inappropriate for a client meeting. When I have
worn my Dave costume to work, I’ve had to hide out in my office or pretend that
I’m going to fix something that needs fixing around the office.

There are a few costumes I won’t
be wearing anymore. Suburban dad sweaters, sweater vests and long-sleeve polos.
I nixed the sweaters simply because they’re scratchy. Who needs scratchy? And
because I’ve been blessed with an incredible physique that peaked early in its
30s, long-sleeve polos and sweater vests don’t flatter the way they used to.

Oh, let’s not forget that one
costume you won’t see me in—hopefully ever again—is the jovial, middle-aged guy
costume. Me in a Hawaiian shirt and open-toed sandals. I’ve made the sensible
adult fashion decision not to go Hawaiian unless I’m on vacation somewhere.
They’re just silly. As for the open-toed sandals. I know they’re what Jesus
would do, but believe me, no one wants to see my piggies.

Truthfully, a life of wearing
button-downs and Dockers isn’t so bad. My granddaughter stops twirling, I kiss
her forehead and I tell her, “If you need me, I’ll be in the garage.”

Dave Miller, Publisher, Back 40 Design President