I wrote this two years ago and decided to revisit it today. Was fun to write. Enjoy 😉
I think, if I was a man, I’d wear a tweed jacket every day, I’d roll up my trousers and wear some colourful socks, I’d carry an old pipe from India (but I’d be a non smoker ofcourse), and even stick a different flower in my button hole every day. Yes, that’s what I’d do. And my bag would belong to my old man’s, and smell a bit like its in the past tense, but look like it will last till the end of the book. Yes, that’s it.
If I were a man, I’d be in my early 40’s, I’d have laughter lines and a big but tidy beard. I’d wear an old pair of battered jeans, from a youth I cannot remember, and a soft cotton shirt in a warm white, rolled at the sleeves. I’d wear a waistcoat, from a trip to central Asia, hand embroidered, with my feet in leather sandals. I wouldn’t carry a bag, maybe just a new moleskine and a pencil. Yup, i think that could be the one.
If I was a man, I’d wear black cigarette pants, with a charcoal fine knit jumper, the sharpest of shoes, like lazers, and encase myself in a black leather jacket, slightly worn, slightly soft, with studs on one pocket. I’d have my hair clean and swept back, in case it gets in the way of my mission. I’d smell like old spice. Stubble and a scar on my hands would be my accessories. Yes, that may be the one.
If I was a man, my clothes would hang from my shoulders, and smell of incense from last nights spiritual sessions. Prayer beads would loosely fall from my palms, like the last words she said to me before she died. I would look at every day, as a day to grow and reach beyond the confines of my home and the suit I no longer wear. My ability to breath would be a reminder that my calling has come and these belongings no longer mean what they should… Yes, this could possibly be the one.
I think, if I was a man, I’d wear an old grey hoody that would belong to an elder sibling. I’d pair it with faded pea green chinos, and some plimsolls, new fresh white ones with crisp laces. I’d stick a little cigarette behind my ear, and maybe grow a moustache too if I’m in the mood. Sometimes I’d take the short cut route home, and dodge trees like I were Mario, looking for mushrooms. I’d possibly carry a little smirk.. or maybe a camera.. Yes that’s the one.
You know, if I were a man, I’d walk on concrete like the floor was soft crumbly earth, I’d wear loose khadi trousers, freshly ironed and in the colour of cold bluebells, with a little marigold peeping out of the pocket. On top, a simple faded white tshirt, with a collar and little wooden buttons. Feet in a pair of brown birkenstocks, and hair would be curly, tousled, and unruly, like years spent in the forest waiting for the dawn.
If I was a man, I’d wear my glasses high up on the bridge of my nose. My chords would be a deep terracotta and frayed by the knees. I would wear a tshirt, maybe navy or maybe black, with a DNA code neatly illustrated by someone in the far east, not sure who, but I know this wasn’t a limited edition. My shoes would be comfortable and in my Northface backpack, I’d carry my Mac, with an old book of poems that my ex sent me, I haven’t read it, but it reminds me of her smile. Yes, this is what I might be..
If I was a man….