I’ve noticed the growing popularity of Fashion blogs lately. All of a sudden, instead of “oh I ate beans on toast today lol” type of blog posts, I’m seeing loads of “oh I wore X today, along with Y, because of Z”

Even last year, I was nominated for a Smedia award, along with two fashion blogs – Ali and Ana. Both lovely girls, as it goes. If you’re into fashion, both of those are well worth a look.

So I thought to myself, how can I keep up with this growing trend of fashion blogs?

Well, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

So here it is.

WALSHO FASHION

What do I wear?

What do my clothes say about me?

Where do I shop?

What’s my favourite sexual position?

I’m sure you’ve all wondered these things about Walsho before.

Well now you can find out.

I’ve gone and taken photos of some of my clothes, and I’m going to stick them up here and talk about them like I am a fashion person.

I’ve decided to start from the bottom up.

To kick things off, my shoes. These are the shoes I was wearing up until last week:

They are called plimsoles. I like them because they’re very light, and slip on easily. I also like that they are called plimsoles. I like to imagine that if they were people they’d say “Plim-Plim!” all the time. You may have noticed that they are very dirty. They weren’t like this when I first bought them. They got dirtier over time as I wore them, as I must have walked in dirt sometime or something.

Also, there were holes and cracks in the soles, which allowed rain and other moisture access to my feet. I considered this the footwear equivalent to a Flinstone’s car.

Then I decided to get a new pair of shoes, because I don’t think it’s very fashionable to wear things that are filthy and frankly no longer fit for their purpose.

So, after a long and arduous browsing and selection process, I made the decision and bought these shoes in the end:

The new shoes are just like my old shoes, except they are newer and thus, cleaner.

How much?

That’s how fucking much.

I’m currently thinking of buying a pair of shoes that cost fifty euro. I really like them, but I’m put off buying them when I know that for the same price I could buy twelve pairs of plimsoles. And have two euro left over to buy sweets. Twelve pairs. I’d be plim’ing all the way to the bank.

Moving on:

These are my socks.

I wear them to keep my feet warm and to avoid uncomfortable abrasion between the flesh of my foot and the inner material of my shoes. They’re very effective. Often in cold weather I’ll double up on socks. Two pairs of socks makes me feel invincible.

I have some socks that are colourful, so they stand out a bit when worn with regular clothes, so I don’t like wearing them out of the house. I’ll wear these on the days that I don’t think I’ll be leaving the house. These blue ones, for example:

Some days you just know you’re not going to be leaving the house, so why use a good pair of socks on that day? Use up the shit ones. Save the good ones for the days when other people might see them and say “Hey, nice socks, man!”

I’ve said before that when I have children I’ll be buying them loads of pairs of black socks, and no other kind. This way we’ll never have any sock-matching issues. If only my parents had thought of this when I was growing up, so much hassle would have been avoided. I sort of resent sock-making companies now for doing so many different kinds of socks, and creating these matching issues. I wish someone had a sock monopoly and only one type of sock was ever produced, and everyone’s lives would be that little bit easier.

Now, onto the good stuff.

Women, prepare yourself, because you’re about to get some hot stuff right about now. Funk soul brother.

Check it out now:

Above is two pairs of my boxer shorts. I wear them underneath my trousers, hence them often being called “underwear”.

They’re Playboy boxers.

My mother bought me them.

My own mother bought me Playboy boxers one Christmas.

Needless to say, bitches love them.

Some other underwear I own:

These boxers say “Hot Undies” on the waistline, and have a picture of a Skull on them. I don’t know what that’s all about, but they fit my package nicely.

Also:

I have never worn these. I never will. Firstly because they are too big. Secondly because they are briefs, and I’m strictly a boxers man. Thirdly, look at them.

I got those for free from Paddy Power before. It’s impossible to resist free stuff.

So I guess it remains to be seen just how lucky they are.

Making the correct choice of boxer shorts is very important.

It’s something that doesn’t quite get the attention it deserves, I feel.

Boxer shorts are all about the looseness-tightness scale. Finding the right balance on this scale is the key to finding the right pair of boxer shorts.

When I’m playing football, I make sure to choose a loose pair, so I’m not restricted when making last-ditch lunges or goal-line blocks.

However, a more important decision needs to be made when you’re going out at night, in the hope of ending the night in the company of a lovely lady (or lad, whatever you’re into).

You see, you want everything to look just right when your jeans are torn off you. You need your boxers to be sufficiently loose to allow your erection to truly flex itself and show the lucky lady what it’s made of.

However, you also want your boxers to be tight enough that they actually highlight your erection and say “Hey, look at me, I’m an erect penis, go on the lads!”

So be careful, gents. Find the right balance on the looseness-tightness scale, and you’ll reap the rewards.

You won’t see Gok Wan, or, I dunno, some other fashion guy, giving advice as useful as that.

Now, what do I wear outside of this underwear?

Obviously, jeans. No other option for a regular lad like myself.

None of your skinny shite either please.

A nice pair of jeans with plenty of air circulating in them to ensure maximum scrotal freshness.

I have a few pairs of jeans, but I only really wear these ones.

I’ve owned them for about six months.

During this time, I estimate they’ve been washed twice.

And I also estimate that that’s two times too many.

Jeans are the best thing in the world.

You can even dry your hands on them.

Public toilets should just start hanging a pair of jeans from the ceiling for people to dry their hands on. Fuck the hand-driers and shitty paper towels. Jeans. Problem solved. Thank me later, world.

Sometimes around the house I’ll wear tracksuit bottoms.

Complete with little hole in the knee. From when I got shot.

And by “shot” I of course mean “fouled during five-a-side football on astro turf and fell on my knee and made that little hole”.

The stretchy waistline is brilliant because it enables access to cupping myself in one swift movement. Cupping oneself is a vital part of lounging around the house.

Above my waist is my torso.

On my torso I usually wear shirts of some kind. Polo, Tee, – the whole shebang.

It would be fair to describe the above shirt as blue and with a collar. Women have said it brings out my eyes. My eyes are also blue, so I guess that story makes sense.

Over this t-shirt, I would usually wear something like this:

That’s my black zip-up thing.

I call it this because it is black and has a zip which I sometimes put up.

You’ll notice it has long sleeves, so is significantly warmer than the blue t-shirt, and so I wear it more often when the weather is colder. I can also remove it quite easily if I’m feeling too warm, which is beneficial.

Morrissey would tell you he wears black on the outside because it’s how he feels on the inside.

I wear black on the outside because it’s usually grand to wear with other stuff.

And that’s all I want.

Everything to be grand.

How’s everything?

-Grand, thanks.

That’s good.

And everyone lived happily ever after.

And finally, here’s my favourite hat:

One Halloween I dressed up as Pete Doherty, mainly so I could get to wear a trilby hat. I loved wearing it, but I’d look like a knob wearing it normally.

But still, I’ll always have that Halloween.

Right so.

That’s that.

Bye.

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4 March 2011 ‧ For The Lolz, Life etc. ‧ 11 Comments