This Guy Gets Queasy If the Tag Tops $30

Every now and then, I am suddenly overcome by this urge, this longing. My pupils dilate and my heart goes herky-jerky.

Time to go clothes shopping.

Not just any clothes, though. I have my own 35-year-old sense of hip, but I don’t get my sartorial synapses from MTV or Vanity Fair. Gentleman’s Quarterly? You’ve got to be kidding.

I’m a dress-for-less shopper.

You know, Marshall’s, TJ Maxx, Nordstrom Rack and good old Ross Dress for Less. Heck, I’ll even take a quick spin through the clearance racks at my neighborhood Gap.

The reason: I save big bucks.

These stores offer savings--often 50% or more--on designer labels. Some items are identical to those found in higher-priced department and specialty stores; others are manufacturers’ overruns; still others are unsold inventory that may be a season or two out of date.

Such messy details do not bug me in the least. You see, my clothes-shopping philosophy is strict: I will not spend more than $30 for a shirt or pair of pants, no matter how incredibly awesome they look. In these bleak economic times, I refuse to dump all my discretionary Dead Presidents into my threads.

I can’t describe the rush I get as I flip through a rack of waist-34 pants at my favorite dress-for-less outlet. Let the other Bozos haunt the Beverly Center for their Italian and French-cut fashions. For the price of one pair of those trousers, I can buy five.

And we’re not talking Fred Flintstone fashion here, dudes. Just try these designers on for size: Basic Elements. Willi Smith. Generra. Calvin Klein. Bugle Boy. Hugo Boss.

The selection is such that I can cash in on some reasonably priced radical chic with confidence that not every schmo is going to be wearing my new shirt come Saturday night.

Finding one of these bargain nirvanas is easy. There’s more than 45 Ross stores sprinkled throughout Southern California, 38 Marshall’s, 30 TJ Maxx outlets and four Nordstrom Rack stores.

But first, remember that on any dress-for-less shopping safari you can’t always put your instant-gratification pedal to the metal. You’ve got to become a ruthless bargain-hunter because there’s going to be tons of well-camouflaged clothing traps out there that you don’t want to step into.

The trick is to know when not to buy. There’s going to be so-so days where that old credit card stays in your wallet. Be strong. If you’re simply in love with the style but don’t like the color, don’t buy it.

If the shirt is just a half-size too small, but you have to swallow your Adam’s apple to get the bad-boy buttoned, forget it. And if those all-too-hip pants can’t be yanked over your own swelling hips, hit the road and hit the gym, but don’t plunk down your hard-earned cash for stuff that doesn’t fit, no matter what the price. (Trust me. Those blasted white denim shorts that I just had to have now only get worn only on painting days, if then.)

My style is a tight-rope walk between casual and dress wear. A friend calls my look “a sordid mishmash of GQ and Salvation Army.” That means baggy pants, bowling shirts, espadrilles, thin ties, boxer shorts, mock turtles and psychedelic vests. Some of my best bargains include a pair of black Willie Smith slacks ($25), a Hugo Boss black sport coat ($40, originally $400) and those boldly printed Basic Element shirts (my price, $15; full price, $80).

Anyway, here’s my time-tested clothes shopping game plan: First, I grab a shopping cart to hoard my possible purchases so I don’t have to leave them lying around, slung over racks, where some other shop-till-you-drop dude can make a grab for something I’ve already set my hungry eyes upon. The cart also helps me stay organized at the dressing room, where shoppers usually can take only six items at a time.

When I’m finally rolling, I breeze by the end display racks where stores flaunt their hottest properties. Then I hit the jungle--the rows of the regular racks. Marshall’s is particularly user-friendly because its hangers are color-coded. There are little plastic tags on the neck of the hangers--black for extra-large; blue for large; red for medium and gray for small.

Finally, when no one is looking, I schlep over to the clearance aisles--the place to find $7 shirts and $5 dress slacks. Every shopper has his price. For a measly ten-spot, I figure I can gamble on a shirt that’s not exactly me.

On my circuit, I seem to have the best luck at T J Maxx but I have struck gold at every dress-for-less outlet. Nordstrom’s Rack is usually a bit pricier than the rest but it carries a good selection of Italian shoes and Nine Twenty East shirts, which knock my clothes-crazy socks off. It’s got something to do with the unique buttons and the oversized look--I couldn’t design a hipper shirt if I tried.

I mean, for $20 I can buy stuff I could wear to the White House. Or to some hot Hollywood party, or even to an arraignment. Just about anywhere.

A final pointer: Make friends with your neighborhood discount clothing clerk to find out what days store deliveries are made and shop on those days when selection is best. For a while, I had a guy call me every time he got any Willie Smith lines into his San Diego store.

So what if I had to fix him up with my sister?

After almost a decade of dress-for-less shopping, I must admit I still get a little lustful walking into some trendy clothing boutique, hit by all this sudden . . . selection! Now fashions! Every color and style my dark heart could imagine!

But remember, along with that choice comes those hurtful price tags. So, have a look around, if you must. And then do what I do.

Slip out the back door unseen and hit the nearest dress-for-less outlet.