The Unlikely Priesthood of David Sedaris: A Meditation on Comme des Garçons and the Art of Self-Expression
There’s something deeply intriguing about watching David Sedaris, the master of observational humor, navigate the gilded halls of a Comme des Garçons store. It’s like seeing a stand-up comedian moonlight as a high priest—both roles demand a certain kind of performance, a blending of the absurd and the sacred. But what makes this particularly fascinating is how Sedaris, a man known for dissecting the mundane, finds himself so at home in a world that thrives on the extraordinary.
The Store as a Sanctuary
Walking into the Comme des Garçons store on West 22nd Street is like stepping into a modern cathedral. The massive gilded metal panels, the monochromatic drapes, the asymmetrical hems—it’s all so deliberate, so intentional. Personally, I think this is where Sedaris’s connection to the brand truly shines. He’s not just shopping; he’s participating in a ritual. The way he interacts with the staff, the way he marvels at a jacket that looks more like a piece of architecture than clothing—it’s all part of a larger performance. What many people don’t realize is that fashion, at its core, is about storytelling. And Sedaris, a storyteller by trade, seems to understand this instinctively.
Rei Kawakubo’s Riddle
One thing that immediately stands out is Sedaris’s defense of Rei Kawakubo’s designs for men. “Somebody said to me that [Kawakubo] obviously hates men because everything she designs for men is ridiculous,” he tells GQ. “But I don’t think it’s ridiculous. It feels like she’s making it for me.” This raises a deeper question: What does it mean for clothing to be for someone? Kawakubo’s designs are often described as radical, even confrontational. But from my perspective, they’re not about defiance; they’re about redefining what it means to inhabit a body, to take up space in the world. Sedaris, with his slight frame and sharp wit, seems to embody this idea. He’s not wearing Comme des Garçons to fit in—he’s wearing it to stand out, to challenge the very notion of what a 69-year-old man should wear.
The Evolution of a Style Icon
What’s truly remarkable about Sedaris’s relationship with Comme des Garçons is how it’s evolved over time. He started with a $125 knitted tie in 1994, a purchase he describes as “crazy” but necessary for his book tour. Fast forward to today, and he’s wearing culottes, skirts, and acid-trip leather shoes. This isn’t just a story about a man and his wardrobe; it’s a story about growth, about embracing the unfamiliar. In my opinion, this is where Sedaris’s genius lies. He’s not afraid to look ridiculous—or, more accurately, he understands that looking ridiculous is often the first step toward looking extraordinary.
Fashion as Performance
Sedaris has always treated fashion as part of his performance, even if he’d resist the word. On stage, he’s a master of timing and delivery, but his clothing adds another layer to the act. “My audience knows a lot about a lot of things, but they don’t know anything about clothes,” he says. “They’re like, ‘Oh, did you make it yourself?’” What this really suggests is that Sedaris uses fashion to disarm his audience, to blur the lines between the performer and the person. It’s a clever tactic, one that allows him to explore life’s oddities—both on the page and in the mirror.
The Spell of Kawakubo
By the end of the article, it’s clear that Sedaris isn’t the only one under Kawakubo’s spell. The writer, Tyler Watamanuk, admits to being initially intimidated by the clothes, only to find himself justifying a pair of pants he couldn’t afford. This, to me, is the true power of Comme des Garçons. It’s not just about the clothes; it’s about the way they make you think, feel, and question. If you take a step back and think about it, fashion at its best is a form of philosophy. It asks us to consider who we are, who we want to be, and how we want to be seen.
A Thoughtful Takeaway
As I reflect on Sedaris’s journey with Comme des Garçons, I’m struck by how much it mirrors his approach to life. He’s not afraid to be unconventional, to challenge expectations, to embrace the absurd. In a world that often demands conformity, Sedaris—and Kawakubo—remind us that self-expression is a radical act. Personally, I think that’s something worth celebrating. Whether you’re a 69-year-old writer in a mesh skirt or a skeptic standing in front of a mirror, there’s a lesson here: fashion isn’t just about what you wear; it’s about who you become in the process.
