Thanks for the belly-laugh full of fashionless humor ("Guys we need to talk," Life, etc., Aug. 13). What a great parody of today's fashion police. However, it's not April 1, so your clueless consultants might be actual people -- gasp!

How could I have been so blind to the vaunted wisdom of the truly fashionable? I'm going to dump my dozen Hawaiian shirts, shorts and cutoffs, and three dozen pairs of white socks in the trash and rush right out to buy a couple pairs of the recommended $365 loafers. I guess I can keep my dozen cowboy shirts, because W wears them.

Actually, I'm heading off to campus in my favorite Hawaiian shirt, blue jean shorts, black shoes and white socks. Fascionista Nazis are welcome to dress for success or one another. I dress for the beach! It takes a real man to sport a Hawaiian shirt. For the rest of you, genuflect to your fascionista. And don't forget to match all your leathers, including your underwear.

Rich Slatta, Ph.D.

Cary

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