.png)
17 hours ago
1
In the early spring this year, when the season was still warming up, I walked past a pub. Seated on a stool outside, with his pint standing on an old barrel used as a table, was a man of about retirement age.
It was not a bright or sunny day, but he was wearing an extraordinary pair of sunglasses. To the best of my recollection, they were completely flat and horizontal on the top, but the bottom of the lenses were like the lower half of a hexagon shape.
Gold-rimmed, and possibly tinted a dark green in the lenses, they were more of a statement piece than a true item of practical usage.
Looking at the man entire, the rest of his outfit followed the same register. He had an overlarge suede jacket and some kind of navy or black denim on inside it. He flicked at a cigarette and I saw that there were rising around his head the various vapours of smoke which hinted at a recent drag.
He took it up again, the cigarette, and savoured a long pull.
I was gone. Walking by, I only really had a second or two to take him in – here was a man who followed the beat of his own drum. He looked like he never had a ‘proper’ job somehow, like somebody who just did his own thing, somebody who probably burned the candle at both ends
I loved his whole outfit, but the sunglasses were the true pièce de résistance, and they seemed so well-suited to his leisurely activity.
I knew I had to find a similar pair.
I’ve never really been a sunglasses guy. I live on quite a dim and overcast little island, and anytime I wear they, they feel like a kind of inconvenience – one is always lifting them up and down over the eyes or forgetting them or losing them.
Besides, I think I must have a small and narrow head or some kind of odd proportions because regular men’s sunglasses look a bit big on me. Ironically, when I tried on my ex’s sunnies, they looked oddly good, as did some of her t-shirts on me – something about feminine clothes seems to suit the present writer’s delicate build?
Alas, there was always a sense that the sunglasses were wearing me. Or, sometimes, that I was a guy who wanted to wear the sunglasses, who was trying to wear sunglasses, rather than a guy who was, simply, wearing the sunglasses.
None of the styles seemed right. The aviators were too much of a larp; the small round ones too full of aspiration; the wraparounds not necessary for a leisurely stroll.
The slim rectangular ones were the closest to a good match, but even they never quite fit the bill. The product-market fit just wasn’t there. Nothing felt very me.
But now I had new data – that old bastard outside the pub could do it and so could I.
The online search began, a humbling experience. How do you describe something which you only saw in half a moment? Google is set up to direct you always to Temu, Amazon, to show you items which actually don’t fit what you initially searched.
What words should I use? I stopped short of typing “French pervert furniture maker antique sunglasses” even though I decided these were the most telling words.
In the end, I found a pair that I liked, cheap and new, and not quite the ideal shape, but when I started wearing them, they just felt…right.
Something very small can transform you by bringing you into alignment.
Imagine you are swimming, and you just can’t get into a rhythm, and you suddenly realise that your head is too far out of the water – you lower it and everything feels smoother and more streamlined.
As I began to step into the world with my new stylish accessory, I felt more aligned. The glasses somehow revealed to the public something about my worldview, my essence, my modus vivendi. Either that, or they believed I was a perverted French furniture maker.
Whatever they believed, I was in rhythm. I was swimming fluidly in the stream of life, and every little walk I took was about 30% more enjoyable. I felt connected, in-sync, and I developed a sort of adoring fondness for little green-tinted glasses, just what like Tom Pendergast felt for his Green Buddy.
I can’t think of many physical possessions that I’ve had as long or used as much. I have a lot of affection for that green buddy. It served me really well.
Remember those hang-ups I had? That sunglasses are annoying, that you have to lift them up and down? Well, it turns out that adjusting them and removing them is actually an act of theatre, a demonstration of panache, a further flourish.
After all, if all the world’s a stage, the dramis personae should make it their business to be interesting.
Something else I noticed: despite the cloudy nature of the sky here, there is quite a lot of background glare. I had been squinching up my eyes for most of my life, to attenuate this glare. Now, with my frames in situ, that is no longer needed. Going outside now without them actually feels like a bit of an annoyance.
The added benefit is that the glasses protect my eyes from the sun, thus preventing cataracts and the humorously named pinguecula.
The essence of this article is that I quite literally changed my perspective.
Out there in the world, there is something that will bring you more into alignment.
It doesn’t have to be a material object, but it sure can be. We live in a world which has recently become almost anti-material, and very focused on experiences rather than items. But a beautiful way to live is to appreciate materials and, as strange as it sounds, to develop relationships with material objects and their contexts.
Think of your first car that you saved up so much to buy, or a bockety coffee table that you made yourself, and of the special feeling you had for these things. But it also doesn’t have to be a crafted item or something with an emotional story, you can just love something, even if it’s mass-produced, for the simple joy it brings.
Beyond physical items, it can be a daily practice, a change of location, or a form of dance, which will click with you. It could be swimming in the sea, sitting under a beautiful lamp, writing in a gratitude journal, or starting a blog Substack. I have done all of these lovely things.
And yesterday, walking along by the sea, having donned my faux-vintage geometric sunglasses, I saw a woman jogging towards me.
Dressed in all black, she had the typical running gear, the split shorts and the technical t-shirt and the propulsive-looking shoes. But over her eyes she had wraparound sunglasses, in a vibrant tint of green, as she ran along the promenade.
It had happened again.
The sunglasses fit her; they fit the moment. Just like the man outside the pub, they were a perfect demonstration of a certain item in a certain setting.
The man outside the pub’s shades said to the world:
I am no longer young in body or mind, but in spirit I am still in the first flush of youth. I am drinking a pint and smoking a cigarette. In my working life, I am liable to sell you a credenza, but currently I am engaged in a leisurely activity, and I will enjoy it even more as I look while good doing it, watching the world go by.
The woman’s wraparound sunnies said:
I am going for a run in order to get fit. My breathable t-shirt and comfortable shorts lend themselves to staying cool. These items are utilitarian. But sometimes, the sun gets in my eyes, and I find it hard to see. Since I’m moving quickly, I need wraparound sunglasses to stay in place and, with the darkness of my outfit, this splash of colour tells the world that, although my main goal is fitness, I like to look and feel good while I’m doing it.
I knew I wanted a pair just like hers, for my ever-expanding collection.
After all, my furniture-dealing sunglasses would be no good moving at speed, and so I began to envisage the glory of the first outing of my new wraparound running sunnies.
But how many situations require a different set of shades? I suspect there may be many. Maybe I am a sunglasses kind of guy after all.
Or maybe I’m just viewing the world through rose-tinted lenses?
Thanks for reading. Click below to receive my regular writing straight to your inbox.
Affiliates:
Pathless Path maverick and internet encourager-in-chief Paul Millerd runs the Pathless Path Community, a cozy online space where we support each other to find ways to live and work in the most authentic way possible. I’ll see you in the Whatsapp group!
