Golf. Fashion. The Beach.
Picture a sky as blue as the Fluent American sundress (sleeveless, 13-button front) advertised in this season’s J. Peterman catalog — “a blue that’s kind of aged and knows its way around.”
Perhaps the maturity of the blue sky will guide you through the National Golf Club of Kansas City’s course, where you are likely to spot Rush Limbaugh, though he will not be dressed in the dashing suits and ties he wears during his grueling hours spent talking on the radio. He’ll be relaxed, his polo shirt perhaps even unbuttoned. After all, he may get hot. He may need the ventilation. Just like the Persian princes who wore polos centuries ago before the game evolved into, as the catalog notes, “a sport where people in Land Rovers park around a green field nibbling cucumber sandwiches.” When the Persians played polo, blood was spilled, cheetahs were mounted and open-necked shirts were unbuttoned … to give the sportsmen air. Because although Tiger Woods leaves his shirt buttoned up all the way, others tend to be a little looser. A little more … relaxed.
Similarly, there are two approaches to watching golf. Some people like to follow their man from hole to hole. This approach, however, seems desperate. More dignified golf observers might choose instead to stake out a hole. Stand by the tee box. Wait, like a hunter stalking prey. Keep the sun out of their eyes, not with a visor (how pedestrian), not with a ball cap but with the Owner’s Hat — the hat made “for those who own the plantation.” This hat could be especially useful in getting a spot near the green, because the black grosgrain band is “slightly intimidating.”
And when you see John O’Hurley, the real fake J. Peterman from Seinfeld, you might wave. You might remember this Seinfeld episode or that — most likely, you’ll recall the one in which Elaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) is sent to purchase a set of JFK’s golf clubs, which she carelessly leaves in the back of Jerry’s car.
If you are fat, you will not be wearing the Reckless Wide-Legged Pants. They are not made for fat people. O’Hurley probably knows it, too. You can tell by the way he knows to take out just the right iron on the second hole, where the stand of trees makes the green look longer than it really is. Where he will adroitly sink his putt after using the sand wedge, if his ball does — by some mistake — land in the large front-left bunker that makes the hole so challenging.
And if, almost in mockery of our good-natured warnings, you insist on wearing Reckless Wide-Legged Pants to the Bayer Advantage Celebrity Pro-Am Golf Tournament in spite of your portly build (there’s nothing wrong with being big-boned, but you must learn how to dress), we suggest you wave not at O’Hurley, but at Dan Quayle While you’re at it, ask him to spell potato. It’s his favorite joke.
