Every August of my childhood, the same thing happened. The first two weeks were still summer: the pool and the beach, baseball and camping.

But then, sometime around August 15, my parents would start talking about school shopping.

Moms are the ones who make you put on the jeans, walk out of the dressing room, and stand there on display while they get down on their knees and yank on the waist to see how much room you have.

It was an ominous sign that summer was nearly over, a reminder that school was looming. Dreaded school. Hated school. After deliberation with each other, my mom and dad would settle on some day in the coming weeks. We would wake up and my parents would remind us to have a good breakfast because “we aren’t eating at the food court.” We would all pack in the car sometime after breakfast and make our yearly trip to the mall for school shopping.

Nice pants

Back-to-school shopping was an all-day affair. We would get there around 11a.m. We had to get jeans, a couple of boring pairs of nice pants, shirts, shoes, and winter jackets if we had grown out of them.

Sometimes my brother and I would split off and go with my dad to look for clothes — the easy stuff: socks, underwear, undershirts. My dad wasn’t a clothes hound. He never spent five minutes inspecting the rise on our jeans, checking to see if they really fit well or if they were the right length.

Moms are the ones who make you put on the jeans, walk out of the dressing room, and stand there on display while they get down on their knees and yank on the waist to see how much room you have. Tugging on the fabric and hiking up the jeans, embarrassing you in front of any random people who might walk by. You’ll never see them again, but you were always so embarrassed. “Mom!”

Mall malaise

Dads, generally, just want to get out of there. Or that’s how my dad was. He dreaded going to the mall for school shopping. I would say that walking around the mall, waiting for my mom and sister to finish whatever they were doing, was one of the things my dad detested most. But for us kids, it was a great day. School shopping at the mall was probably the only thing that made going to back to school somewhat bearable.

School stinks. Who wants to go back to sitting at a desk after running around outside all summer? No kid in their right mind wants to be cooped up in some classroom while the sun is still high. Resting your head against the smooth painted concrete wall, looking forlorn, gazing out at the bright green grass calling you through the sealed window. Let me out!

Carnival of shoes

But getting new clothes was fun. It made going back to school worth it, kind of. It felt like you had a chance to be a new person this year. I imagined how different my life would be if I had cool new skate shirts from World Industries, real JNCO jeans (I always had off-brand knock-offs — the leg opening wasn’t ever that wide), and a pair of skate shoes that were way more expensive than what I got last year.

Shoe Carnival was a highlight. Walking back and forth down the aisles, dreaming about which pair of shoes I would end up with. The really pricey ones were never an option. Eventually I learned I shouldn’t even try. I would finally select a few options. My mom would come over. I would put a pair on and she would have me walk down the aisle and then back again. She would study the way I walked like an Olympic judge.

She did this all while the Shoe Carnival employee was there watching, of course. Then she would take her thumb and press down at the tip of the toe to make sure I had enough room to grow over the course of the next year. She would press down hard three or four times, manhandling the shoe in focused judgement.

It was so embarrassing. But why, exactly? In what world does a 12-year-old get to pick out his own shoes without his parents taking a second look? No world. But when you are 12, you want that to be your world.

Natural fit

Kids are excited to get new clothes for school because they are new things and kids like to get new things. But kids also like their clothes. They might not talk openly about the clothes they like; they would rather talk about the clothes they don’t like. They don’t necessarily have the language at their disposal. Nevertheless, they have opinions about their clothes and they like when they get new clothes.

True, they don’t like them like we do. They don’t care about nice quality or anything particularly advanced. They just want a cool-looking shirt. But they do care in their own way.

It’s a natural thing to care about your clothes. Kids, for better and worse, exemplify us humans in a pure and natural state. But slowly over time we grow up, and many start to resent their clothes. Lots of guys end up viewing clothes as a burden rather than a blessing. They don’t really like thinking about them, and they don’t get too excited about them either. If they do get excited about them, they certainly won’t show it.

In short, guys have issues with their clothes. They need clothes therapy. The natural state of man is not one of resentment toward his clothing but one of enjoyment and interest. Kids show us that.

It’s funny to reminisce about those days at the mall before the first day of school, but there is a deeper lesson in these memories as well. We naturally care about how we look. We want to cultivate a personal aesthetic. Deep down, we want to enjoy our clothing.

For the guys who have built up wall after wall to protect themselves from caring about their clothing, it’s okay to let go. It’s okay to remember how you were once so excited for the jeans your mom bought you before school. Or how you looked forward to wearing those cool new shoes that first day. How you were secretly excited to show them off. It’s not embarrassing. It’s natural.