Now, I, too, count myself among the growing army of boutique-underwear-wearing bros. Coincidentally, though, his recommendation intersected with my campaign to wear better socks and undershirts, and I actually decided to order a 3-pack of Lululemon underwear. It’s the only underwear I wear now.” In the moment, I probably said something like, “Haha, right on,” dismissing it as a yuppie indulgence that wasn’t for me. He responded with an enthusiasm he usually reserves for discussing live Grateful Dead bootlegs: “Dude, I know this is going to sound insane, but I switched to Lululemon underwear, and it’s so comfortable,” he said. Early last year, I was talking to my well-groomed, clean-clothes-wearing brother, and mentioned that I was going to buy some new underwear that day. This brings me to the advice that all of my ultra-tough and cool, proudly sloppy folks need to hear, which is that wearing high-quality, comfortable underwear is the closest we can get to heaven in this life that is, short of being in the pit at a Slayer show (though I’ve done both and would roughly put them on the same level). Now that I live with a partner, playing Elden Ring for four hours straight probably hits a little less hard when I’m not doing it while wearing a T-shirt with gumbo stains on it if I’m peeping Emily in Paris-er, I mean Road House-with the boys, there are plenty of opportunities to make fun of me without seeing my decimated Saucony athletic socks.
When you have a “real job” and are trying to appear like you’re #adulting, you just can’t be doing the college-core or #cheflife thing anymore. I now wear (mostly) clean undershirts (on weekdays). Now, my feet and knees hurt all the time, so I started buying excellent shoes-shout out to Haflingers (which I lovingly reviewed), the New Balance 990v5, and super comfortable socks ( Smartwool crew and Bombas gang, respectively sound off). But once I hit my 30s, things started changing.
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