Clothes maketh the man – or should that be ‘clothe’? After a fruitless search Robert Drewe decides he’ll stick with jean(s), thank you…
About to embark on a capital-city book tour and ashamed at my usual state of country-coastal fashion oblivion (T-shirts and shorts), I was browsing through a magazine catalogue of stylishly rugged menswear. Intrigued by the ruggedly stylish names of the various clothing items, I forgot I was looking for some new and suitable gear. Then I came upon the word ‘trouser’. ‘Trouser’ singular. Then ‘pant’ and ‘jean’. Singular.
Oh, no. Whatever happened to trousers, pants and jeans: clothes with two legs – hence plural? No sign of them in this rustic collection. Here were featured such outdoor fashion items as the Gunnedah Classic Trouser, the Jerilderie Jean and the Aberdeen Pant.
The square-jawed, ruddy chap with the gun-metal hair who was modelling the Gunnedah Classic Trouser did look quite at ease in it/them as he stared masculinely into the countryside, and the kelpie at his knee/knees certainly added to the outdoorsy effect. I did wonder, however, what Ned Kelly would have thought of the Jerilderie Jean, especially as portrayed by a suave young male model whose dimpled cheeks were perhaps at the farthest remove from those of a member of the Kelly gang.
Jerilderie Jean sounded like the Aussie outback equivalent of Calamity Jane. The jean came in ‘bone’, ‘wheat’ or ‘sand’, macho-sounding shades almost indistinguishable from each other. Until now, I hadn’t thought of sand or bone as actual colours, or particularly male colours either, but if you are planning to dress ruggedly enough to rob a country bank (if you can find one) the Jerilderie Jean looks up to the task.
Rugged, yet stylish – the Moleskin holds its own…
The gun-metal haired man in the Gunnedah Classic Trouser soon appeared again, kelpie-less this time, though still gazing into the middle distance. He was holding a copy of Stock & Land for suitable bush-cred while teaming his trouser with a Harvester Double Pocket Shirt and a Deniliquin Traditional Rugby Sweater in ‘charcoal’ and ‘forest’.
Meanwhile, the dimpled model had swapped his Jerilderie Jean for the Aberdeen Pant (in ‘wheat’) and a Morrison Moleskin Blazer (‘French navy’) and was inclining improbably against a dusty ute. Next he was straddling a drover’s quad bike, having changed into a Ballarat Crew Neck Heavyweight Wind Jumper (in ‘bottle’, i.e. green) and gathered up three kelpies.
By now Mr Gunnedah Classic Trouser was visiting some empty cattle pens, donning for his tour a Traditional Trentham Jumper (in ‘Bordeaux’ – or red, to me) and an Akubra, and acquiring another kelpie along the way. He was still firmly contemplating the distant horizon (perhaps searching for the missing cows) but from the strained look on the dog’s face, this was one fashion shoot too many. Mr Jerilderie Jean, meanwhile, was enjoying leaning on the wall of a riding stable in his Talbot Premium Oilskin Vest with Detachable Tuck-away Hood and holding a bridle. No horses were there.
The Tool Short – practical, and SO many pockets…
At this stage, the catalogue moved from rugged bush fashion for Margaret River wannabes to rugged work gear as worn by real tradesmen. At last, I thought, as the page opened on photographs of no-frills males, a return to plural pants. Alas, the alleged plumbers, electricians and carpenters present were displaying the Sinclair Stretch Work Jean, the Utility Trouser, the Trade Short and something surprisingly called the Tool Short (with phone, tool, coin, ruler and cargo pockets).
This was too much. Now shorts were singular as well. It reminded me of that irritating white-African affectation whereby all plural animals — not just the usual grass-eaters like sheep, deer, antelope and buffalo – are referred to in the singular.
On a safari in Zimbabwe once, my melancholy guide kept pointing out: “Look, five elephant! And there’s three cheetah!” Round the waterhole at night he’d indicate miscellaneous baboon, twelve warthog and five or six hyena. And of course the sycamore-fig trees overhead were full of bloody dozens of monkey.
Anyway I didn’t buy a new trouser for the book tour. I just wore a jacket and pant I’ve had for a few years. And a fairly new shoe. I took a jean for weekend wear. Maybe I’m just not outdoorsy enough for rugged rustic fashions, although the tour was pretty exhausting and I couldn’t wait to get home to the country and our four horse and three dog.
Robert Drewe’s most recent books The Local Wildlife and Swimming to the Moon are on sale here: penguin.com.au
