On a windy Saturday afternoon, I walked along the coast at Mussel Rock Park in Daly City as the waves turned into parallel pastel lines under the setting sun. I arrived at an overlook, and as one does, I pulled out my phone for a selfie. But first, I had to adjust my tie.
Although it’d be disingenuous to call this 1-mile beach stroll a strenuous hike, one does not simply walk onto a gravel trail in a suit and tie. I had a reason for kicking up dust onto formal wear: To break out of the monotony of the pandemic, I cast aside my sweatpants and put on a crisp light gray suit for a week.
Like most people in the pandemic, the attention I pay to my wardrobe has diminished to teenage levels of discernment. With so few social engagements and only the occasional waist-up video call, I might as well be wearing JNCOs. Clothing decisions just don’t feel like they have consequence. And in a way that’s been comforting, because consequences are what every COVID-19-cautious individual tries to avoid.
Dan Gentile wears a suit for a week. Here's what happened.
Blair Heagerty / SFGATEEight months into the pandemic, with a daily routine that thankfully still includes employment and health, at this point I’m really just trying to batten the hatches and not f—k anything up. When I do deviate from my hermit mentality, I feel irresponsible, so I’ve had a hard time making many changes to my lifestyle that feel consequential, but have no consequences for others. Then I realized that one instinct that I could safely rebel against was my normal uniform of any-clean-T-shirt-will-do, all day, everyday, for occasions ranging from dog walks to first dates.
When researching a story on what costumes mean to different S.F. subcultures, I kept hearing the same refrain that changing your style of dress is a means of empowerment and armor, a way of trying new versions of yourself on for size. Since there’s no better/worse opportunity to be a New You than a first date, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to begin my transformation into The Type of Guy Who Wears Suits. That demographic has shrunk dramatically during the pandemic (sales were forecast to drop 24%), so I was able to order one at a steep discount from recently bankrupted J.Crew.
Out of journalistic principle, I texted my latest dating app match to warn her about my slightly baggy suit (deadline took precedence over tailoring) and that she may end up in a story. She replied that she would be coming straight from a fitness studio she runs, and thus wearing the traditional pandemic uniform of all-spandex everything. My reply: “This will be rich.”
Dan Gentile wears a suit for a week. Here's what happened.
Blair Heagerty / SFGATEOur meeting seemed destined for the stuff of rom-com magic. I was easy to find at Duboce Park, the only guy wearing a tie in a several block radius. We sat on a sliver of shade along the perimeter of the park, my blanket folded over four times to protect against S.F.’s permanent dew (seriously, why is the grass always wet?). Although my hunched posture would probably trigger a yoga instructor, I felt more confident than usual and it made the occasion seem grander than just another awkward masked meet-up. But once the novelty wore off, it unfortunately became clear that we didn’t have much in common beyond an aversion to coconut-flavored La Croix.
My businessman cosplay proved more fruitful in the workplace. Early in the pandemic, the work-from-home freedom from a dress code felt like a small blessing, but wearing a suit made me realize the negative effects of discarding clean slacks and an ironed shirt. When your wardrobe is set to sloppy autopilot, it’s easy to let your workflow match it. Over the past few months, I’ve been treading water against deadline, easily distracted by, well, you know.
Although I still spent too much time on social media, I can tell you that browsing Twitter in a suit feels extra dumb. I won’t say I became some superhero journalist, I did make a few mistakes, but dressing formally made me rethink many of the skills I’ve come to approach casually. It gave a greater appreciation for the privilege of receiving money to ask questions of the creators of my favorite childhood cartoon. They say to dress for the job you want, and although I do not want to be a Gordon Gekko Jr., it’s nice to remember that I’m not just a Cool Band Shirt Collector.
Dan Gentile wears a suit for a week. Here's what happened.
Blair Heagerty / SFGATERELATED: Master of None: what I learned from trying all 81 MasterClasses
For the rest of the week, I went about my normal pandemic routine. In the evenings, that mostly meant making electronic music, which honestly felt pretty badass to do in a suit after midnight on a Friday night (although my neighbors disagree). Otherwise, most of my life consists of dog walks (you’re welcome, Peanut) and trips to the corner store, plus a comically large ice cream cone as a treat (minor consequence of the suit: You’re much more careful when eating). I imagined my appearance would break the ice with women at the park or lead to a new best friendship with the Sunrise Market owner, but not one stranger remarked on my suit (and I saw zero other Suit Brothers with which to exchange a knowing nod).
In a town known for its acceptance of weirdos, I thought a corporate look would make me a curiosity, but I was wrong. Rightfully so, people have more things to concern themselves with during the pandemic than some stranger who clearly needs to watch another YouTube tutorial on Windsor knots.
Which brings me back to that outlook on Mussel Rock Beach, taking a sunset selfie during the last day of my week dressing like a finance bro. I picked this beach because, well, I’d never heard of it and hoped that not many other people had either. You can’t really go wrong with pink clouds reflecting into rolling waves, but by Bay Area standards, this was an absolutely mediocre hike: no cascading waterfalls, heroic summits or gigantic redwoods.
Honestly, I didn’t want to be there. It was a cold day, and I had trouble motivating myself to leave my house for one more pandemic hike. But when I got on the trail, I felt different. Once I forgot the self-consciousness of being so overdressed (which no other hikers mentioned), the suit functioned like a soundtrack, making the experience feel less everyday, a formal moment worth the time that it filled.
Dan Gentile wears a suit for a week. Here's what happened.
Blair Heagerty / SFGATENow nine months into such an unprecedented period in contemporary life, we have come to accept these extraordinary circumstances as a painfully ordinary routine. That inertia towards monotony is just one part of the long uphill battle ahead, and although it’s no substitute for hugging a loved one or going to a crowded concert, I found that my week dressing like I had somewhere to go made me feel like I was actually going places. And I learned that in the fight to maintain a feeling of control during the pandemic, clothing can be not only armor, but a weapon.
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December 14, 2020 at 07:04PM
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A return to hard pants: My week wearing a suit all day, every day in San Francisco - SFGate
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