Dressed to Spill
Christmas 1977, I sit with a small well wrapped present on my lap, the obligatory hand made bow attached to indicate how important I am to my mother who has just presented this to me. I shake it, put it to my ear, weigh it in my palm trying to determine what this is. I had asked for a Ben Sherman shirt, the ultimate fashion accessory of the time. Knowing my mother’s inability to produce any Christmas present that remotely met with my needs, I had given her a cut out picture of the shirt from a catalogue, written down my wishes on a Christmas list of one item, indicated the massive (in those days) £ 3.50 price tag, and drawn a map showing the exact location of the sole supplier in Sheffield. She could not go wrong, could She??…She could !!! There was no way this diminutive package could contain the wide striped, short sleeved roll necked chemise I so desired. I opened with trepidation …. Mr. T eyeballed me in all his finery, I was the proud owner of an A team watch. I was 23 years old, just making my way in the world, trying to attract the ladies with expensive aftershave, fashionable shirts and fake Cartier watches. As I stared at Mr. T I gave up. I admitted defeat, my carefully worded letter to Father Christmas had not worked. I could no longer influence anything and left the matter of the choice of presents, and the future relationship with my family to fate.
A year later she surpassed herself and left unsupervised, produced an item I have never seen before, nor since, until last weekend at Scunthorpe Show, hence the article, but I have leapt forward a little largely to stop you wondering what this has to do with agility and to keep your interest. That year the package was larger than usual, I prodded and poked it, as was the tradition, amid cries from my mother of “you will never guess what it is,” I did guess, but did not let on. I knew, it was obviously some form of clothing, an area into which I had repeatedly told my mother not to venture, but what form of clothing? It felt heavy and chunky, she had used additional paper of different colours to wrap it, it even had two handmade bows, possibly to signify my greater importance in the family, but more likely because the traditional solitary bow would have been lost amidst this huge mass of coloured paper.
A bundle of beige appeared from the paper, a thick chunky soft mass of beige, as yet I could not decide what the garment was, one shade of beige merged with other shades of beige to form a hideous pattern resembling those found in the Tombs of the Pharaohs, I was getting closer to solving the mystery. The garment unwound into the thickest mass of wool that I had ever felt, those who remember Aran cardigans and the like will have some idea, however this was probably twice the weight of those once fashionable accessories. Unusually for any garments knitted by my mother, I was able to pull it over my head without much trouble, at the obligatory “see if it fits session,” as I stood there amid smirks from the more fashion conscious members of the family. I now awaited the question I always dreaded, the “do you like it then ? ” and whilst I frantically erode brain cells thinking of a response that does not offend too much, an escape door opens. The weight of the right arm seems to be pulling me downwards as I look down, this right arm is significantly wider than the left arm of the garment, and if I am not mistaken also about 3 inches longer. I question this, and for once a speechless and very embarrassed parent explains. It seems that in her rush to denude entire herds of sheep producing presents for her close relations and unsuspecting friends, she had sub-contracted the right sleeve to my grandmother in a bid to catch up with rapidly overdue production needs. Not being wise to the mysteries of converting strands of wool into the shape now about my person, I am lost, but apparently different people knit with different tension hence the anomaly, more likely my grandmother forgot her glasses did not read the pattern, continued producing to the sound of Jimmy Young on the radio until it went dark, and went to bed quite content she had played a part in delighting her grandson at this special time..
I had forgotten this episode, long consigned to my distant past and felt that no one else would ever have to endure wearing such a creation ever again. No one else surely would have found this monstrosity attractive enough to produce, and the only other person knowing of such a design would be the brylcreemed model in 1950’s gear on the cover of the knitting pattern. The extended arm negated me from ever wearing it and despite pleas that it could be worn underneath a coat it was never seen again……that is until now.
The garment has been reincarnated and it’s appearance at Scunthorpe Show last weekend got me into thinking about the totally inappropriate clothing we wear for the sport, and try to reason why.
Scunthorpe, April 2008, I am busily working on the ring when out of the corner of my eye I see this creation of multiple beige, and can just work out the familiar raised diamond patterns. Now it is very cold so I can partly understand the wearing of something as warm as this obviously is, and whilst the sleeves were a little long they did look to be of even length. It was set off by what at first sight appeared to be beige plus fours, unusual combination I thought, however closer examination reveals these to be a pair of chunky corduroy trousers, the resemblance to plus fours courtesy of them being tucked into a pair of M+S socks which protruded from a pair of hiking boots. I assume the guy is lost, looking for the Yorkshire Dales, but the lack of a map and the presence of a lean fit border collie indicates otherwise. So having got over the shock that either reincarnation of woolens is fact, or that someone else has found the pattern, I have sympathy, even a little envy that at least this chap is warm as he queues for his wife with her dog. A few minutes later I am getting confused, the queue is shortening and there is no sign of a spouse, I am about to ask the next person to run when this chap hands his ticket and moves to the start line. I am transfixed, our lost hiker stands on the line wearing the woolen equivalent of a chain mail vest, hitches up his socks and hikes to the 3rd obstacle. The task facing him in negotiating these 20 obstacles is equivalent to a potential SAS applicant on his final overnight romp in the Welsh mountains, the jumper must weigh as much as a full pack and the boots totally inappropriate for the speed required. I watch in awe, a perfect lead out and faultless turn to no7, the dog walk, but then catastrophe , the dog races, the handler in unsuitable footwear, starts a tumble at the start of the dog walk, he tries to correct himself but the lack of grip merely accentuates the slide thus reversing the fall, incredibly he almost rights himself and for a split second looks like the Road Runner in the Bugs Bunny cartoons as legs pedal the air in a frantic feel for grip, but alas the inevitable slide on the backside coming to an end by the contact point. Unfortunately, probably through fear of the commotion behind, the dog has long since left the point and got eliminated in the tunnel.
Now in an era when quality sportswear has never been cheaper to obtain and the need to save fractions of seconds from times never more important I cannot understand why people handicap themselves severely by wearing inappropriate clothing. The said jumper must have weighed 5lbs, and as I desperately struggle to lose similar from my midriff, I know how much difference that would make to my mobility. I also know that a pair of decent trainers or cheap football boots would have avoided the elimination and improved any performance on the slippery ground.
The cost of the raw wool alone, so skillfully woven into the intricate diamond and snowflake shapes, would have funded the track wear of an Olympic relay team , so why is someone competing under such a handicap ?
I have played competitive sport for most of my life and my only criteria on equipment was that I felt good in it. It may or may not have been the best I could afford, but it felt comfortable and I, with my already stated strange personal clothing preferences, felt right. That was, and still is, the key to my choice of clothing, as I stand on the line I can focus purely on the task ahead, confident that I am carrying no excess weight, that my footwear will support me, and despite contrary opinions from my team mates, my XL shirt ordered for the Crufts Team appearance is not due to lack of physical perfection, but a desire to have comfort and minimize the risk of a tight fit on a garment I had not tried on first. In a nutshell I want to feel comfortable and also look good enough should some celebrity stalker wish to post my run on You Tube.
Many of you reading this publication no doubt search for the odd training articles published in an attempt to improve your performance. I remember seeing “Training with the Stars ” and Lauren Langman’s recent article, useful though they may be I can offer greater improvement , with far less effort , and in a much shorter timescale, it is simple, ditch the excess baggage, and if anyone is in doubt as to the validity of their current attire lets look at the garments whose removal to a charity shop would offer this immediate improvement.
Firstly, consider your headgear. Is it really necessary ? The regulatory bobble hat is acceptable but we have now progressed to hand knitted creations, often produced from wool of similar thickness to the said beige jumper, often in Rastafarian colours and now with the addition of strips to cover the ear lobes and ties to stop these flapping as the handler runs. This rarely works and half way into a perfect run the performance deteriorates as the ties loosen, the lobe warmers flap and the handler is distracted, appearing dejected over the finish line resembling some WW II Fighter Pilot. Baseball caps seem acceptable, and obviously fashionable, but even then I have known them blow off, as I know to my own cost when on a windy day in the North East, my youngster’s perfect performance was shattered as my cap raced towards Redcar, followed by him. The need to look cool can be shelved for the 30 second run, and please do not wear them backwards if you are over 16.
Secondly, no matter how cold, please do not run in a coat, particularly one with a hood, and if you must please ensure the coat is fastened before you start. My wife regularly runs in this manner in the now traditional lightweight club coat with attached hood that tucks into a pocket in the collar. The design is a good one but she never remembers to replace the hood in the intended place, and even worse never remembers to fasten the coat. The result? the moment she picks up any speed the hood comes up, the coat tails flap and the end result, particularly on a windy day is a cross between the hooded dwarf that haunted Julie Christie in “ Don’t Look Now ”and Batman, and the breathless inquest as to what went wrong always concludes with “she is too fast for me.” Yes she is, but give the pair of you a chance and remove some clothing…. but then again perhaps not, removal of clothing may reveal the ill suited bra. Now obviously I am no expert here so all I will say is that I have seen many a stunning run ended when the dog misinterprets the change of arm to adjust a falling bra strap as an intended change of direction and takes the wrong jump.
Thirdly, avoid at all costs the hybrid jumper X Persian rug creation, that at the pet stall resembles the latter in all aspects because of the thick material used, and its printed dog design. Closer inspection however, reveals a huge zip indicating that this is indeed not a carpet as first imagined, but actually a garment to be worn, and the presence of a doggy design presumably means to be worn at agility shows, not on Himalayan expeditions. This probably weighs more than the original inspiration for the article and looks as bad, so for similar reasons if you are serious about improving, spend the money on a decent sports bra, lightweight shirts and a good pair of trainers.
There are many more creations which, whilst not totally performance restricting, are a style disaster including the sweatshirts with pictures embroidered of breeds. These whilst common, are surpassed with their twins that have the word border collie written underneath just in case we don’t know what one looks like, whilst the true devotees to this trend have the name of themselves and dog written underneath. Madge and Elsa, Lily and Poppy etc., reflecting much like the infant school pupil with his name stitched in their clothing. In summer these warmer garments are replaced by the white tee shirt emblazoned with a square photograph of the said Elsa or Poppy, whilst the true trendsetters include pictures of both dog and handler on the same photograph with some caption or other.
The serious point I am trying to make is that with a little sense most out there could make a massive difference to their performance, with no effort and little cost There are however a couple of examples that whilst not impeding performance certainly impede any sense of style. The first is the appearance of the tight lycra type bottoms, which fit tightly around the thinnest limbs, and are almost inevitably accompanied by cheap trainers with thick soles further emphasizing the thinness of the occupants legs. Bizarrely, the stirrups which are meant to go neatly underneath the foot are left flapping in the wind. I can remember such items from the early 60s’ when many track suits were so designed, fortunately at the same time the new trend was to wear sweat shirts with alternative bottoms and one had a choice of style here which I enthusiastically embraced, but what is the intended use of these garments today ? . These are too plentiful to be sixties originals so what are they designed for now? Surely they are some works accessory and those wearing them are trying to save the pennies rather than buy current trends.
My final contribution to the Agility Dress Code may actually hinder the wearer’s current performance, as contrary to the message I preach, I am asking them to run with slightly added weight, but no article on fashion sense would be complete without mentioning that running in a thong should be banned. This may be a North Eastern thing as I have yet to see the equivalent anywhere else, and I exaggerate a little by calling the garment a thong, but the briefs are too brief to be called shorts, especially when continually hitched skywards, a thong is therefore the only description I offer. The thong is accompanied by a running vest even in the bitterest weather, and the only concession to the wilds of a wet windy April in Northumbria is green wellingtons on feet. Now this may be the way forward, as it meets all my criteria of achieving great speed by carrying as little excess weight as possible, no hat is worn, and I must accept that the colours match, I also assume the wearer feels good in the outfit. Perhaps I would be more successful if I followed this lead.
Fortunately for me, my final rule about feeling good would not be met, so with a sigh of relief for myself and all others queuing behind me, I will stick to tee shirts and track suit bottoms relying on superior skills to offset any advantage the thong enjoys.
Olympia qualification at this expense, a price just too high to pay.
Food for thought I hope, but back to a much more serious topic next month with a look at the selection process for the European Open and my views on wearing the Great Britain Shell Suit.
