Don We Now Our Gay Apparel.

Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.

Mark Twain

I once read that Meg Ryan claimed she could best get into character if she was wearing the right shoes. Shoes her character would wear. Meaning, she could become the type of person who would wear the shoes she was wearing at the time. Get it?

I think I do.

Because, as I think I've mentioned before, I often put on the clothes that I need to fit into that day.

For instance, if it's a day packed with client meetings, I like to wear a sharp white button down. Not sure why, but it makes me feel like Nina Garcia. Or Paul Reubens. Depending on the meeting. Then, when I need to write all day, I need to wear squishy soft clothes that squish and bend and squish. Or something. And of course some days require multiple costume changes. To really get into character. And impress ex-boyfriends. And make very sure that your clothes reflect they exact type of person that you are.

Or maybe it's the other way around. Maybe you become what you're wearing. In other words, if you change your clothes, you can change your life.

Maybe.

But the problem with this line of deep thinking seems to end up in the shallow end. Because of course, we are more than the fabric we wear. Our personalities can't actually be altered or shaped by something as silly as toggery. Or can they?

Case in point. Matthew.

Matthew is a friend of mine. An upstanding citizen, a wise scientist, a college professor, and a relatively harmless dude. Or so he was. Then. Being an upstanding citizen, he joined a mustaches for kids contest, where individuals grow mustaches to raise money for kids. I'm not sure exactly how that works, but it does, because they just raised some serious cash for Texas Children's Hospital.

But back to Matthew. It seems in growing this mustache, he also grew an odd counterpart and counterpoint personality. The bizarro Matthew. The kind of guy who puts the creep in creepy. The ash in trashy. The phlegm in phlegmatic. You know the type.

The type with the creepy mustache.

The type that wears Christmas sweaters. Everyday. For 15 days.The type that goes to the Quick Mart across the street from the bar and buys Nog.

And drinks it straight from the carton.

The type that jumps on the back of garbage trucks.And sleeps on the streets.That type. That guy. For real.

And then, let's just say, if that usually mildish-mannered guy wears the wrong thing for too long, he might stumble into an imeem studio and sing for the whole world wide Internetss. (Yes world, this is Matthew.)

It can happen. I've seen it.

So I agree with Meg Ryan. You can become the character whose shoes you wear. Or whose mustache and 1982 Christmas sweater you wear.

And I'm thinking you might just be a little more careful when you select your outfit today.

It could happen to you.

All photos stolen from Monica and Matthew's flickr pages.