Wicked wardrobe: How weed changed my life for the better

It was a pivotal job interview.

My current job was boring me to tears and was not challenging me to express and utilise my bottomless well of talent, initiative and pop-culture knowledge.

I had also been reprimanded for surfing adult content on the internet, so my shares were relatively low.

How opportune then, that a job advert appeared for a position at men’s magazine FHM.

FHM were purveyors of adult-adjacent content that appealed to men, to wit stories about sport, streaking and how to stage a Viking funeral for yourself, where your corpse is burned on a barge set alight by archers with flaming arrows. Also lots of images of women in bikinis.

I had long nurtured a deep appreciation for women in bikinis, as well as sport and had on occasion taken my clothes off in public, aka streaking. I also loved the idea of being laid to rest on a burning barge. Also, my internet search history was more of a liability than an asset at that point, and one hoped FHM would see things differently.

It was vital that I get this job.

I applied, and was invited to fly up to Johannesburg from Cape Town for an interview.

This meant a scrambled 4am wake-up and a desperate rush to get out of the house in time to make my flight. But before that, wardrobe selection.

What should I wear to this most important job interview?

I surveyed my options: a pile of T-shirts.

Most were T-shirts about bands, or surfing, assembled over years of travel and adventuring to reflect my unique tastes and personality. Ultimately, though, they were no different to what one might find in your average department store.

There was one quite remarkable T-shirt, though…

A black shirt, it came from the UK, and it bore the following legend in green, leafy font: “Smoke More Pot.”

You must understand that in those days, pot was illegal, the proclivity of underworld figures, crooks, outcasts and social deviants. However, the weed did have a certain rebel charm. It was a maverick habit, appreciated by some, frowned upon by others. To dabble in the odd choef of weed was one thing, though. To shout it with your chest as quite another. It was a polarising herb, in a lot of ways.

But standing there in front of my meagre clothes cupboard that dark morning, I knew I needed to distinguish myself, in the great bikinis-rugger-n-fire-funerals pick-me sweepstakes I had chosen to enter. I needed to set myself apart.

So I chose to wear my “Smoke More Pot” T-shirt.

I rushed to CT International, made the flight and was soon plonked down in front of Brendan Cooper, the legendary editor of the magazine. I had only had about three hours’ sleep, was woefully under-prepared and was well and truly wearing my influences on my sleeve.

I had pinned my colours to the mast. Those colours were bright green and about smoking lots of weed.

Brendan took one look at my “Smoke More Pot” T-shirt and hired me on the spot.

I came to work at FHM for almost ten years, travelled the world, met famous people, directed bikini shoots and was even paid to remove my own clothing on occasion.

Basically, weed changed my life. For the better.

So, if it ever comes up in conversation that dagga is the gateway drug that kills motivation and limits your potential, may I offer myself as a slight counter-argument.

When it comes to smoking pot, not only have I been there, done it and got the T-shirt, but I wore the T-shirt to an interview and I got the job.

The point is that sometimes it pays to stray slightly from the path of convention. And also that conscious, intentional, garment choice is huge. I recommend it. Highly.

Hagen Engler. Picture: Supplied

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