I was standing in Target’s men’s department last Saturday wrestling Sophie into my shopping cart when it hit me. Dad jeans+Target cart+Sophie hanged onto my shoulder like a monkey=epiphany. Jackson was helping me decide between two pairs of chinos “Dad the navy ones have less stains” when Lauren texted me to see if I wanted to get dinner at a nice place after we dropped the kids at my mother-in-law’s.
Real dinner. Plates, not the takeout boxes designed to look like superhero characters. Now I’m scanning my cart evaluating if my Target dad clothing could pass for date night attire should we decide to actually do this.
Decide against it and I risk looking like I wandered out of storytime at the library. Which isn’t entirely inaccurate most days.
Dressing like a dad isn’t always as simple as different clothes for the pub versus clothes for dinner.
Don’t get me wrong, I miss those days when I worried about whether my jeans were clean enough to wear again. But now I view most apparel decisions as playground appropriate vs I don’t want to embarrass Lauren when we go places that serve food on real plates. Here are a few observations I’ve made since embarking on my full-time dad wardrobe.
The Dad Uniform: Disclaimer: may vary greatly by region. I live in the suburbs of Dallas so my baseline for dad dressing is slightly skewed toward cowboy boots and flip-flops. I know lots of East Coast dads that would probably laugh at some of my “neutral” dad attire.
With that being said, here’s what dads are generally rocking when we’re doing dad things. Playing football in the park on Saturday morning. Picking up supplies at Home Depot.
Anywhere you’re likely to sit in dirt or get food vomited on you. Whenever your shirt ends up covered in who knows what and you don’t care what else you look like wearing it. This, my friends, is dad uniform 101.
Unless you’re like me and have taken years to finally nail this look you’ll spend most of your time in jeans. They can’t be too light or they’ll show every stain. They have to be somewhat thick so you don’t catch holes in them easily (trust me).
My rotation of go-to dad jeans consists of about three different pairs I cycle through interchangeably. All purchased at either Target or Costco because unless you’re shopping Amazon-worthy slacks I don’t understand why anyone spends more than $40 on jeans your kid will put peanut butter sandwiches down while wearing. Bonus points if they get jelly on them too.
My feet have taught me many lessons when it comes to dad dressing. White leather trainers? Don’t do it.
Sure they looked nice at Target but by the time you’re finished playing at the park they’ll look like you were dribbling mud across the pavement. My advice is stay away from lighter colours and stick to thicker materials. Sauconys, Sketchers, and New Balance have become my staples.
Rotate between grey New Balances (they’re comfortable enough to run around with kids and no one will look twice at all the dads wearing NB), distressed converses I bought already worn down, and Sketcher slip-on shoes that look like hiking boots but Lauren mocks because they’re“ugg boots for men.” As for tops, you need a base layer you don’t mind sacrificing to the chaos of parenting. My go-to’s are plain t-shirts. Usually in grey, navy or black because they hide stains better than you’d think.
Layer that with either a zip hoodie you can tie around your waist when it gets hectic at the playground or one of those versatile quarter-zip pullovers they sell everywhere that make you look like you tried way harder to dress yourself than you actually did. Outdoor coats/jackets have also come a long way since I was a kid. Again, stick with something from Columbia or North Face that can take a juice box Launcher 3000 and keep moving.
The thing I’ve realised about dads and the uniform we mastered college is that it’s incredibly versatile and will take you pretty far for all things kid-related. But venture outside of that world and suddenly people start judging you with those eyes. You know the ones.
The “why does this man look like he just rolled out of bed” eyes. Friends tell you to “dress up tonight,” or when you “get together for dinner like adults.” Here’s where it gets tricky… Date Night/Dinner and a Film Upgrades See what I did there? Luckily for me this isn’t rocket science so transitioning from dad-mode to adult-mode attire isn’t too difficult.
With the exception of actually putting on some sandals rather than trainers you probably already own versions of everything I listed above. It’s all about trading your everyday staples for the “nicer” options you own but secretly hate because you only wear them once in a blue moon. Jeans turn into the pair you’re pretty sure doesn’t have the paint stain from when Jackson “helped” you paint his room.
Trainers become the boat shoes you bought three years ago and still don’t feel comfortable wearing “in public.” As for tops, that comforting t-shirt gets traded up for a good old fashioned button down. Mine are usually blue or white Oxford cloth shirts. Nothing fancy but versatile enough to wear in any situation that doesn’t involve shooting hoops.
I’ve narrowed down my favourite brand to one I can purchase online in multiple colours because I’ve discovered the magical formula of shirts that fit perfectly and don’t need to be ironed. Don’t quote me on how much they cost but I’m fairly certain I could still buy them with money I set aside for my wedding and not be noticed. They’re nice without being too pricey and again- clean and fitted is all you really need to beat 75% of your fellow dads.
Your hoodie obviously gets upgraded to a real jumper. Lucky for me Lauren picked one up for me about two years ago on clearance at Banana Republic. Solid navy crew neck that’s comfortable enough to wear around the house but doesn’t make Lauren hate taking pictures of me in public.
It’s become my default “swappable layer” whenever we’re going somewhere that might require me to look like I don’t spend most of my day in jeans and a t-shirt. Look around next time you’re at your kid’s sporting event and I bet you’ll see other dads doing the same thing. Covertly assessing each other’s outfits, making mental notes on who’s got it figured out and who didn’t shower before coming to watch their children play sports they didn’t sign up for.
Dads everywhere know the difference between clothes we wear while parenting versus when we’re “adulting” without our kids. It might be subtle, but we can spot guys still in athletic clothing shopping at the grocery store come playoff season. Clothes might be comparable but how they’re worn aren’t quite the same.
Cleaner. More put together. Less dried snot.
I learned this lesson the hard way back when Jackson was in Kindergarten and we attended his school fundraising dinner. I showed up thinking I was pretty slick–clean jeans, polo shirt, leather shoes instead of trainers. Thought I was channeling Bob Ross minus the personality and beard.
Walk into the room full of dads and realise I’m wearing a polo shirt while they’re all wearing button-downs and blazers. Not that I needed to be covered head to toe but man did I feel it. Lauren reassured me I didn’t look out of place but we’ve both never forgotten the occasion.
To this day I refer to this get-up as my “parent event uniform.” You know, a step above football games and park outings but not quite up to the standards of when we’re trying to trick friends into thinking we date like normal people. Dress jeans up with dark chinos. Tees become Oxford cloth button-downs.
Shoes are no longer athletic unless we’re going hiking (an acceptable “dad date” in my book). Then there are those events that autumn somewhere in between. Not sure if you should dress up or keep it casual.
Grab drinks with friends at that new restaurant that looks cute on Instagram but you can’t quite tell if it’s casual or fancy AF. You’ll find me erring on the side of caution and much like my time with toddlers wearing sweatpants aka Dad’s salvation wearing “too nice” for fear of standing out like a slob among mums and dads that put actual effort into getting ready to spend an evening out sans children. I’ll never forget Lauren asking me what I was wearing the other day as we were getting ready for work.
Me=shoes already on, jeans picked out, sweatshirt thrown on kind of dad. Pointblank, I didn’t give a poop shoot what I wore as long as I could go back to bed after dropping them at daycare. Her question made me stop and think.
Does today require dad attire or can I get away with clothes that don’t look like I slept in them? Parenting has ruined me to the point I have to mentally prepare for every day’s wardrobe now. It used to be that getting dressed in the morning was something I hardly thought about.
Now it’s a delicate balance of clothes that can transition from playground to grocery store to errands and everything in between. Summer is easy. Shorts and polo shirts are usually acceptable anywhere and my biggest worry with dressing Sawyer and Jackson for summer is pulling underwear and shorts out of Sawyer’s drawers that don’t have dried crayon on them.
Winter in Texas is tolerable but once it’s cold enough that coats and jackets are involved now I have to decide if the occasion calls for my zip-up hoodie or if I need to dig out the one blazer I own that isn’t covered in cat hair (yes, I own a blazer. Don’t act like you don’t wear things in your wardrobe your spouse questions daily.) Lauren has graciously humored me over the years as I’ve navigated all things dad style. The other day was her work Christmas party so instead of putting together a glorified toga of clothes I spent time thinking about what I was wearing.
Button down shirt? Cheque. Trousers as opposed to jeans?
Cheque. Shoes that I actually wiped clean vs grabbed off the floor?
Cheque.
She gave me that look when I walked through the door that told me I passed muster but for the most part I’m functioning at dad-approved levels of presentability. It’s wild to think how clothes have changed since I had kids. In my younger days they were an opportunity to express myself.
Now they’re about not looking like a homeless person slept in them. Sort of sad when you think about how society and parenting have robbed me of my once sexy wardrobe. All of this ran through my head when Sawyer wiped something sticky on my back as I was preparing to meet Lauren for lunch last week.
Positive I looked presentable (clean trousers, polo shirt, non-trainer shoes) until pulling into the parking lot and noticing my back. There was no way I was pulling that Poison Apple sauce mystery substance off in time so I gave Lauren the same look she’s given me more times than I can count and headed into the restaurant. Luckily for me (and her) those days are behind me.
Smothered in peanut butter chicken nuggets and mystery substances alike. Here’s to being a dad that wears things other than matching jerseys and baseball hats.
