I am writing this column at a sad and difficult time in my life. Robert Goulet, one of my role models and a defining personality of the entertainment industry, tragically passed away on October 30, 2007, at age 73.
Goulet, or Mr. G. as his fans endearingly knew him, was one of the greatest baritones of our time. His illustrious career spanned over 50 years, and he illuminated nearly every genre of the entertainment world. I know that I'm just some dubious ruffian attempting to eulogize a societal pillar, but for God's sake, that man could croon. He also had a timeless and impeccable sense of fashion that I feel we could all learn from.
Something that I have noticed at Bowdoin over the past four years is how, once the temperature drops, fashion and cleanliness take out a restraining order against the Bowdoin student body. I don't mean to be insulting here, but even Robert Goulet would note how "Colby" we all look at dinner every night. I'm talking to those folks who feel ratty Sox hats, torn sweats, mustard-stained tees, and pajamas are appropriate attire for most social gatherings. You know who you are...You're the guy who wears his "Day 5" outfit for two weeks straight or the girl who wears those sweet Bowdoin logo sweatpants tucked into the salt-stained Uggs.
A monumental figure such as Robert Goulet would not tolerate such people. If you go to RobertGoulet.com and look at his image gallery, you will notice that every time he made a public appearance, he had a well-cropped pompadour and a beautifully-mustachioed upper lip. That man never wore double-knotted, gray New Balances until you could see his toes. He would also never be seen with his Macedonian-Yugoslavian-born wife, Vera Chochorovska Novak, if she was wearing L.L. Bean slippers and a Patagonia rain parka with the duck bill hood up.
I walk into my English class on Tuesday and Thursday, and it looks like a battle scene from "Pirates of the Caribbean" (minus Johnny Depp, of course). It looks like everyone was severely beaten by Sloppy, and then handed over to his buddy, Dirty, for a second thrashing. If you don't think your professors notice this, you're wrong. When you come to class with your wild coif of hair and dirty chin beard, or last night's makeup with the hood-up hoodie-combo, your professor knows you were out fist-pumping with the DJ at the pub until the wee hours of the morning. It is a simple thing to look presentable, and it goes a long way toward showing that you're prepared and taking that class seriously.
Thirdly, there is not enough Axe Bodyspray in Maine to overcome the stench of sheets that have not been washed since before you came to school. Do you think Robert Goulet ever smelled like the hockey locker room? Absolutely not. He wore Old Spice Classic or lavender every time he left his house. I'm not asking you to do the impossible and emulate a deity such as Mr. G., but I am asking you, as a scholar and a gentleman, to please shower before class and put a little effort in. It's what Robert Goulet would have wanted for us.