My parents have this marvelous talent for dressing down, as casual as possible, even at church; they never go to formal events or dressy galas; my father never wears a suit or ties a tie, he lives in sweatshirts and short-sleeved polos at best. Mom surprises me sometimes at Christmas, when she dons a skirt!
They also revel in drab, shabby clothing. It's respectable, but the colors are muted, the styles are ordinary, and there are no designer labels. Mom washes everything over and over and over. The garments become threadbare, faded, but very very clean and presentable.
This belies their means and middle-class existence, and that's very Franciscan of them. Unfortunately, they raised a kid who could never settle for that.
Going to church, our pastor required a strict dress code for ministers, and so I worked tirelessly to live up to that, improve my hygiene and appearance, and cultivate some interest in men's couture, to the point of subscribing to some YouTube channels. I purchased a brand-new tuxedo in 2015. I amassed a collection of ties, some retail and some thrifty ones. I have a black 3-piece suit for funerals, if I lose weight (especially my own funeral.) Etc.
I also found that dressing appropriately for every other occasion was critical. So I doffed my shabby imprinted tee-shirts, and put some intentionality into my wardrobe.
I donated all kinds of stuff to thrift stores. I hope they were happy with very clean men's clothing in excellent condition. Once, I lost about 90 pounds and donated all the "fat clothes", which was a fatal error when I gained it 100 pounds back.
Even while donating some garments, I also destroyed some that were inappropriate or humiliating, that others had given me, that did not fit my personality. I applied intentionality to the very brands of underwear and outerwear and I went through about 3 cycles of destroying the old stuff, before I was satisfied and comfortable with the logos I was putting on. (I mostly converged on Gildan, Columbia, New Balance and Adidas, in case you're wondering.)
I've also been accessorizing with hats, gloves, bags. I really like having clean, pressed neat clothing to wear. Unfortunately, all this upscaling has gotten noticed. People on the streets and on the bus will notice rich guys in a hot minute. So now I get panhandled, and I get verbally abused, and I get disrespected at every turn, because I must be a privileged rich white cis-hetero man.
It's quite sad. I sort of want to rebuild an inventory of shabby, wrinkled, torn clothing that I can wear and go slumming. It wouldn't fool anyone, though.