What is this “george e. knox” pseudonym I’m hiding behind?

A year ago I was pushing my double stroller to Washington Square Park when I stumbled upon an idea:

“What does our society of plenty, culture of consumerism, attitude of ‘if-you-cant-find-it-in-New-York-it-doesn’t-exist’ lack?, what our disposable income has yet to buy so that it can later dispose of it? Diaper bags for stylish dads.”

Diaper bags for dads are seen in two versions: “clearly-I’ve-borrowed-this-from-my-wife” and “I-need-to-look-as-masculine-as-possible-toting-around-this-jerky-kid-so-I’ll-dress-ia-all-up-in-camouflage-and-New-York-Giants-logso.”

But what about classy gear that doesn’t look like you’re heading out for a morning of cliff repelling or going to a basketball game? What about masculine and stylish? Something to dress up or dress down and shows pride in self and in fatherhood? Something that doesn’t look like a diaper bag but, when elicits reactions of “Wow. Look at that guy and look at that bag and, wait…aaaaaaah, he’s a dad!”

But can I venture into the fashion industry with zero experience and questionable taste? I’m a jeans-and t-shirt-guy. Admittedly, I love $250 jeans. (But I wear them every single day. So the CPW justifies the cost, right? The “Cost Per Wear”? If you’re reading this, you’re with me.) And these days, I accessorize with yogurt stains and greasy 2-year-old hand prints.

Enter my friend, James Brown, III. We performed on Broadway together in Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. We joked around backstage, but never really knew each other.

What I did know was he’d founded two fashion lines, already. http://www.jamesgeorgeiii.com/ http://jamesbrown.alfadesigner.com/ This guy knew style and knew business. Oh. And he knows how to dress. Masculine and stylish.

From my phone at the playground where I’d just arrived, I called him and said, “I have a proposition. Can we talk in person?”

“Sure.”

He asked no questions about my opaque request. That’s James. He agreed to meet me at the same playground the next day.

Playgrounds are my offices.

I sat on the bench thinking, “This is a good idea. I know nothing about the fashion industry, but dumber people than me have made things like this happen.”

When I start to doubt myself or feel over-whelmed, I rely on good, old-fashioned egotism: dumber people than me have realized projects more complicated than this.

I’m gonna be that guy who makes this work.

And then my 4-month-old spit up on my clean t-shirt.

OH, AND PS…WHY AM I HERE?

I can’t help making disclaimers, but at least I’m burying it, here, at the end.

I was told I should blog. After hearing this, my first thought, the thought of an only-child, actor who loves attention and applause and compliments, was: “No one cares what I have to say.”

This is probably how most blogs start out.

There’s that creeping inner voice of self-consciousness coming out. Of COURSE I want everyone to hang on every word I say, but what if they don’t? What if everyone’s laughing at me and it’s not even behind my back? What if everyone else is smarter than me? What if no one shows up at my party? What if everyone else is having more fun than me?

So maybe I’ll post this as my first blog to air out a tiny bit of my dirty laundry.

Laundry out.

Now I’m telling stories.