Escaping Camp David
Earlier this year I turned 39, a wholly unremarkable milestone, other than it happened to me. I’ve never been particularly concerned about my age, but over the months since my birthday a number of concerning indicators have made me reconsider my relaxed position on the passage of time. First, I’ve started to go grey. It’s subtle, but it’s there, slowly colonising territory on my head. Again, this isn’t much of a worry, I still have all my hair after all. I’m safe in the knowledge that in this area I’ve won the genetic lottery. Second, my knee has begun to ache in the hours before it rains. I’m not sure that trading a fully operational knee joint for this odd superpower is a good deal, but at least I always know when I might need an umbrella. The last indicator that I’m on the steep slope of decline is far less innocuous: I started getting targeted ads for the German clothing brand Camp David.
For those outside of Germany, lucky enough to have never encountered Camp David, they produce clothing targeted squarely at men over the age of 40. Often sported by gentlemen who bear a look that says “my partner buys my clothes”, it began life in the east of Germany in 1997 and finally became a national company in 2010. Most cities around the country have at least one store, which means if you’ve been to Germany in the last decade you’ll probably have seen their products.
It’s easy to spot a piece from Camp David, they’re famous for making clothing that features an incomprehensible collection gibberish in cursive or in bold stencil fonts. Scrolling their website, phrases such as “win the game”, “Blue Crew”, or “wildlife in mangroves in 1963” can be seen scrawled on pastel colored polo shirts, jumpers and hoodies. No one knows what all this cryptic phrasing means. However, it does appeal to a certain demographic, one into which I apparently now fall, namely men who own a yacht or at least aspire to, with many of the motifs being nautical in nature. The only thing I want to own less than one of their pieces of apparel is a boat, and even if I did, I’d like to think I would dress for the occasion. Wearing a t-shirt that proudly boasts “Sailing off the Win” doesn’t seem like much protection when you’re battling gale force winds on the high seas.
Not only does it seem like a fashion misstep, it also alludes to something else most men my age worry about: the oncoming midlife crisis. Camp David doesn’t really help itself though, since 2010 their brand ambassador has been former 80s pop sensation and TV host Dieter Bohlen, a man who seems to be in a perpetual state of midlife crisis. Every time I see a yellow Porsche on the Autobahn, I fully expect to find him behind the wheel, driving gloves and all. Bohlen can be regularly seen wearing their clothes on billboards, all over their social media accounts, and is credited with kickstarting the company’s popularity after wearing Camp David clothing on reality TV show Deutschland sucht den Superstar. That a whole marketing team considers Bohlen so valuable that he’s been their brand ambassador for over a decade tells us something about the men who buy Camp David clothing; he’s what they aspire to be, a shiny faced bottle of fake tan in an equally shiny suit. The fact that algorithms now see me as a target audience is far more concerning than any grey hair or weather predicting joint pain.
The targeted ads are one thing, but more infuriating is the fact that their malign influence can be found in many other brands too. Germany, like many countries, loves English script on their clothing, even if the language has little to no meaning. Frequently I’ll go into the city to buy clothes and find that all options have some nonsensical phrase emblazoned across the front, on the sleeves, or on the back as well. It’s as if clothing companies have run out of ideas for what men in their forties might like to wear, either that or we’re such a meaningless demographic that they think we’ll buy any old rubbish.
I already find shopping for clothes a terrible experience. Go to most stores and the clothing is either targeted at 20 year old beanie wearing hipsters or whoever it is that’s attracted to clothes marked “urban fashion”, which seems to be a synonym for oddly coloured camouflage. For the rest of us there’s checked shirts, in a wide range of colours, if those colours happen to be grey, blue, black or maroon, some beige chinos and a pair of sensible shoes. Luckily we’ll never have to worry about too many choices, since these clothes are relegated to a tiny corner of most shops, usually at the back, past all the puffer jackets and Nirvana t-shirts. If you’ve ever wondered why German men over forty dress exactly the same, this is why. I always thought it was a lack of imagination, but maybe it’s simply that most men gave up fighting the oncoming tide of generic brands a long time ago.
Maybe I should just embrace my destiny, concede defeat and start ordering. I’ve already made some curious sartorial choices in the last few months. I have a pair of bright pink trainers that I love more than anything, but which also scream “I’m young I tell you” every time I put them on. Sure, I’ve had some nice compliments, but they were mostly from other men my age, which isn’t necessarily a ringing endorsement of my taste. Am I being too harsh on Camp David? Have I lost perspective? Probably. There are surely worse things. After all, I could be wearing jorts.
Image Credit
Photo by Matt Bennett on Unsplash
Photo by Anna Vander Stel on Unsplash
Photo by Perry Merrity II on Unsplash
