Football pads. A trench-coat. Possibly a sheriff’s hat. If you’re planning on surviving the apocalypse – and let’s face it; you’re optimistic about it – you’re going to want to ask yourself: “What am I going to wear in this new hell-scape?
When all of humanity is gone, how are you going to represent yourself? How will you display yourself to others? I don’t know, but I’ve found a few people on the internet who are crystal clear on what they’ll be wearing at the sundown of the world.
Fashion or Function?
Your transformation from under-appreciated office worker to doomed apocalypse wasteland wanderer starts here, today! At least it does according to this list. Where else to buy everything you need to lug around in the dystopian future then at your friendly warehouse overlords Amazon.com? Of course, the list fails to include “being a strong enough man/woman to carry all of this stuff”, or “having a suitable bag in which to put your multi-tool(s) and possible assortment of pistols”.
For added irony, make sure the type of apocalypse you are surviving in this instance happens to be a post-technological one, where the financial meltdown was triggered by enormous corporations like this. Better opt for the Prime delivery, guys, time’s wasting!
Let’s say you’re too good to shop at Amazon, like the rest of these plebs. No, you’re going to survive this thing in style, and Esquire magazine has got you covered. Hand-picking some of the highest of high fashion items for a segment they might as well have called, “How To Die And Leave A Beautiful Corpse”, they argue that no post-apocalyptian would be caught dead without a $1000+ leather jacket at their imminent disposal.
$135 for an axe? Well, why not, as long as there’s a good returns policy. Look, I don’t know who’s still desperately trying to pull off the military cap look while ankle-deep in the corpses of their fellow country-men, but priced at $230, can you afford not to look this good? Still, if you can find the one intact mirror left in the burning wasteland, you can always know exactly how fresh you are.
Planning for the Future
Let’s take some time away from nerd-gasming about which bladed shovel would be best to remove a human head, and realise that your apocalypse clothes may not necessarily be suitable for the post-apocalypse. I get it, your biker leathers were awesome when you were curb-stomping looters at the 7/11 while the world burned, but looking like a bad-ass is not necessarily always very practical. You might need to just strip down to a t-shirt to do all the farming and agriculture that will definitely need to be a thing now.
On the other hand, Rick from The Walking Dead somehow manages to rock a shirt with no missing buttons, despite being three seasons deep into angry zombie territory. I’m not sure what the practicalities of that thing are, but I personally wouldn’t wear anything I couldn’t strip away at a moments notice to run, screaming, naked into a forest.
Also worth mentioning is how you will wash said clothes. Well, this guy’s already thought about that. Yeah, not as cute as the Burbery trench coat, is it? But, despite the fact that it looks like something a Darlek might use as a sex toy, you will (apparently) need to consider these things, no matter how uncool they seem.
What kind of apocalypse?
Of course, all of your choices are going to be apocalypse specific; you don’t want to be bringing a knife-apocalypse to a gunfight-apocalypse. That katana you bought on eBay to slice zombie heads is going to look pretty silly if you end up getting swept away by a gigantic tidal wave like 2012. But there are some absolute staples in terms of clothing choices, regardless of genre.
For instance, you’ve got to have a coat. What else are you going to wrap that abandoned dog up in and then nurture it into a relationship built on trust? What else are you going to use to lovingly shroud a dead loved ones pale, open eyes with? So it’s settled. Coats are in.
Realistically, you won’t have a luxury of choice in your attire so much as a scant few seconds to pull on a pair of trousers as you stumble, bleary-eyed into the streets with the rest of your wide-eyed neighbours. As you watch the mushroom clouds grow, you’re probably only going to have time to grab a can opener, curse that you didn’t shell out $50 for that crossbow pistol and run for the hills.
And while you’re running shirtless down the road, away from imminent danger, just don’t forget that the apocalypse won’t be all about fighting (despite what these guys might like) so maybe try investing not in Tactical Kevlar, but in a useful skill (I’ve already picked mine: journalism).