Fabricated Foursome

We know you’ve been subjected to make-overs before. You’ve perused them in newspaper fashion sections; you’ve seen them in slick national fashion magazines. Ordinarily, people worth making over are selected from the middle ranks of the business community. Homely certified public accountants are turned into handsome certified public accountants. Awkward bank tellers are transformed into self-asserting bank tellers. Even’ now and then, the make-over fails disgracefully, and the final photograph characterizes a person who seems more uncomfortable about his unattrac-tiveness than he was in the first place. 1 Why not break the make-over mold, we thought, and slip four men into fabrics they’ve never felt before? Why not give that “clothes make the man” adage a real test? Why not turn these guys into something they aren’t instead of exaggerated versions of what they are?

After an exhaustive search we found the unlikeliest foursome conceivable: Carl, Bill, Britt, and Jim. They are the nominees for the sorriest, most pitiful group of dressers ever to grace a haberdasher’s fitting room. Then we called upon Patricia Corbett Elkins, a fashion consultant and lecturer who makes $40 an hour weeding out and supplementing the wardrobes of people who want to change their image, win friends, and influence people. She’s a Dale Carnegie clothier course, of sorts. At first, we figured Patricia would be just another self-appointed fashion “expert,” just another Apparel Mart devotee who speaks in maxims like “you are what you wear,” and “successful people dress successfully.” But Patricia proved to be a real trouper. She bit her lip and shivered a little each time we ushered in another hunk of woebegotten American male, but she courageously accompanied each to several stores until the perfect garments were pulled and the best accessories were secured-right down to the socks, shoes, and pocket scarves. When it was all over, we bade Patricia and the best-dressed boys goodbye and then wondered if we’d actually made any difference. Had we altered these men’s lives by bringing them into fashion consciousness? Had we renewed their feelings of self-worth? If you are what you wear, are you still what you eat? In this highly perplexed state we found some consolation in the 17th-century writings of Robert Burton: “We are by nature all as one, all alike, if you see us naked; let us wear theirs and they our clothes, and what is the difference?” we concluded there was quite a difference indeed.

This is Carl, Father Hill’s favorite hobo out of over a hundred that hang around the First Presbyterian Church’s Stew Pot-a charitable center that takes the homeless in. Carl is said to be an excellent gardener and an incredibly diligent worker. He doesn’t like to talk about his past. He doesn’t drink, and he smokes very little. He refuses to jaywalk. When we found him, he looked like he’d been sleeping in an abandoned building and keeping his clothes in a locker at the bus station. We gave Carl a fifty dollar modeling fee and some pictures of himself in this suit. “It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him,” says Father Hill. Clothes from Sanger Harris; haircut by Crayons.

When Bill King, owner of 17 Brake-O stores, lumbers into the dining room at Bent Tree Country Club, the captain sees that he gets excellent service. People at nearby tables smile and wave. Everybody likes him. “Bill King is a folk hero,” says one lifelong Dallas resident. “He’s the only man associated with the automobile industry whose television ads I trust.” As sweet and sincere as Bill is, he dresses like an ex-con. We didn’t need to talk him into taking on a new look. He drove us to the stores in his yellow Mercedes-Benz sedan and bought almost everything we tried on him. Clothes from the Kent Shop; eyeglass frames from San Francisco Optical; haircut by Crayons.

Britt Cross is a 21-year-old sheet metal worker earning $4 an hour at Mechanequip, Inc. He lives with four other guys and “a lady” in an Oak Cliff rent house where the most predominant pieces of furniture are probably the stereo speakers from which Britt and his friends blare Jeff Beck, ZZ Top, Zeplin, The Who, and the Stones. Because Britt forgot Mother’s Day this year, he figured getting his hair cut might be a good gift for old Mom, a multiple divorcee who lives in another state. He says he’s going to send her a magazine and write “Guess which one is the real me?” on this page. We think she already knows. Clothes from The Polo Shop; haircut by Crayons.

County Commissioner Jim Tyson used to be the Dennis the Menace of the Commissioners Court. In 1977, he skipped a county budget meeting and was caught driving a county car fueled with county gas to the horse races at Louisiana Downs. In 1980, he pleaded ’no contest’ to a DWI charge. But his constituents always forgive him. Jim was reelected with about 72 per cent of their votes last year. And even though his life seems to have settled down to a less-jeopardized routine, Jim still dresses like the man behind a win-place-show window at Hot Springs. We gave him a high-stakes, authoritative look, worthy of a man who wagers. Clothes from Kent Shop; haircut by Crayons.