Actually, this is the first time in my life I've ever worn either a black leather jacket or sunglasses. I got into sunglasses after my eye was injured. Mostly I wear clothes that work. I have no fashion sense whatever. I'm almost 50, not 30.
I'm happiest talking to friends, writing, shooting, or hiking and talking to friends at the same time. Walking, picking up rocks. I walk all over the place. Like a little kid; I keep looking for the hidey holes the adults missed.
I love khuks because they work. I'm not a knife guy.
Shoulda worn one of my army coats, or the old wool coat I like, rather than the 89 dollar leather jacket; but I had so much fun teasing myself and you all over the caper of getting it that the picture was appropriate. A little play acting involved...our clothes represent slices of us, views, and are both meaningless and important. I always figured as far as humans and fashion went, everybody could do what they pleased; rings in noses, Josh having pink hair, but if you went so far out, that when trouble came you were ill prepared, then you'd wandered off the evolutionary success path. For example; beautiful blonde women who die in monster movies because they can't run with high heels or must turn back to save taffy the poodle.
Course, many people don't have to worry about clothes tough enough for bush busting, desert walking, or blizzard blowing.
I'm not nearly as tough as a real cowboy, but in my younger days people would refuse to hike with me because they did not wish to endure, 'munk's death march' in the desert or mountains. I'd go a little crazy in how far out we'd travel, well beyond the comfort zone.
munk