Some people, sometimes, say I have good taste in clothes, in how I present myself. Others think just the opposite.

This is true of you as well. Some people like the way you dress, others probably mock and despise it.

If I may introduce you to four different guys, all in their late 30’s. You’re free to give them whatever ethnicity you’d like. First is Peter, a manager of an upscale restaurant in a major city. When not working he almost always wears jeans, Levi’s, which are all purchased at vintage thrift stores and which outline the shapes of various wallets from previous owners on the back right pocket. At his neighborhood dive bar he’s fond of telling his guy friends that his only definition of a “beautiful woman” is how she is able to wear a pair of Levi’s. His shirts are various, but mostly button-up and mostly manufactured in the 1970’s. On cold nights he wears jackets (never ever fleece) and scarves. His hair is too valuable of an asset to cover with any kind of hat. His shoes? Black leather boots, nicked, warped, and worn; never polished.

Then there is Dennis, he lives in Middle America. After a decade as a mechanic, he’s now a traveling salesman for an auto supply company. Like Peter, he has to wear a tie for his job. But after long days spent inside UV-lit trade fairs, he goes back to his hotel room and changes into something less formal. There are denim jeans and there are khakis - all name brands, the labels assure him - but purchased at Marshalls and TJ Maxx and anywhere else his wife may discover. A t-shirt is a t-shirt he says - and he owns many. Often they come free at the 100 or so trade fairs he’s expected to attend each year. Then there are souvenirs from trips to Hawaii and Orlando. Tonight he’s wearing jeans - new ones - with a label that says “Guess”. He’s never heard of the brand, but, looking in the hotel room’s mirror, he likes the way they fit. Instead of a t-shirt, he’s chosen a maroon polo shirt. Below his jeans are white tennis shoes and beneath the shoes are cotton, white socks.

Next we have Dylan. He went to school at the University of Colorado, Boulder and now works at REI, where he also happens to do most of his shopping. “You can’t beat the employee discount,” he’s quick to point out. His khakis are loose and light and marketed to yoga enthusiasts. His shirts are breathable, short-sleeved, and earth-toned. Some of his t-shirts have slogans that say things like “go climb a rock” or “himalayan mountaineering expeditions”. At least one article of clothing is always made of fleece and his footwear consists of Kiva sandals in the summer and trail running shoes in the winter. Dylan loves to wear beenies, even if it’s 70 degrees out.

And finally, Brian, who has no idea how much his liberal arts college education cost, who has never once been in debt, and who still holds a credit card that belongs to his parents “just in case.” In high school he listened to NWA and Public Enemy (as well as MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice), wore baggy pants, and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. In college he subscribed to Maxim, then GQ, and, by his senior year, a monthly mountain of fashion and design magazines. Now his favorite stores are Banana Republic, Armani Exchange, and a few upscale men’s boutiques. He prefers to shop alone and has learned to enjoy his time with the attractive saleswomen who know his name and his favorite colors. His girlfriends like to poke fun at the amount of time he spends in front of the mirror each morning and the amount of money he spends on dry-cleaning, but deep down he knows that the way he dresses is responsible for the rewarding office glances he gets from lonely secretaries at the PR agency where he works.

Depending on your own tastes, one of these four 30-somethings dresses better than the other three. Here’s what they have to say about each other. Peter thinks that Dennis is a Nascar Dad Republican Stiff (NDRS) who probably cuts his own hair with a vacuum cleaner attachement. He’s 100% sure that the man would never be able to pick up any tail at a bar, like he did just two nights ago. Dylan, he thinks, is alright, but is trying to hard to brand himself as Mr. Mountain Man. Brian, on the other hand, is a pretty boy pansy who probably listens to Enya after doing yoga. According to Peter, anyone who orders aftershave from a catalog and spends $100 on a shirt is just a few months away from coming out of the closet.

Dennis thinks it is Peter who is probably gay. What else could explain why he’d spend $20 on a toilet-paper-thin t-shirt that says “West Brooklyn Dodgeball League”? And why do his jeans have small holes on his kneecaps? Can a 30-something man not afford to cloth himself properly? Dylan is a showboat wannabe outdoorsman who would probably faint if he ever held a rifle. And Brian, well he must be one of those millionaire types with too much money to spend. Besides, don’t they have all the same brands at Marshalls anyway?

Dylan tells everyone he doesn’t really think about what he wears, that his only criteria is “comfort.” But the truth is he spends most of his breaks in the fitting rooms examining how shorts show off his calves or how shirts emphasize his muscular shoulders. When asked to comment on how the other three dress, he only offers this: “well, that Brian guy does look like a bit of a pansy.”

Brian says he’s able to sympathize with the other three. He used to have bad taste in fashion himself, but if they’d just take the time to read a few issues of GQ, then they’d be able to mature past their high school insecurities about manhood and learn how to dress to impress. While admitting that “exquisite taste” does demand a certain investment of time and money, he argues that the payoff is worth it and points out his recent promotion.

To any man or woman who says that his or her taste in music or food or film or literature or fashion is better than anyone else’s, I ask for proof.