Here's the thing:
I have a monstrous ego. Not ignorantly huge, but over the years my self-esteem has multiplied 10 fold. One of the most common references I get to my looks is that I look like the Undertaker. Here is a break down of my winter "look":

Black Fedora- more Blues Brothers than Undertaker in my opinion. I like the way a fedora always looks like its moving forward. When I put it on, I feel like I'm letting people know "I'm going places. Get out of my way or come on."

Black Cloths- lets face it. I am a Goth. Not "oh, life is tragic... what's the point?" I label myself one because I like a number of Goth tastes (the basic ones at least); and I hate the world and people (at this point, I should draw a line in saying that I love individuals). Some of the "Goth thangs" I don't vouch for is the constant depression, the "I'm a unique and creative person, like all my friends" rhetoric (I like unique, but only once it has passed my "just because your unique, doesn't mean your useful" rhetoric... heh). I also believe, personally at least. that a person should be outside as they are in. I understand not everyone has that luxury, but hey, everyone chooses their own limit of personal disclosure.

Black Steel Toed Redwing Boots- these were the last thing my father bought me. Then he stole my fiancée. What a douche, right? Unfortunately, my father is the main person I molded myself after and those boots are the last good thing he ever did for me. They are 4 or 5 years old and still in working order. They were given to me for my birthday. (last birthday present I ever had too, now that I think of it). So, they goes no wheres! I'm running them into the ground.

Grey WWII German Nazi General's Leather Trench Coat- No, I am not a Nazi or Nazi supporter. The story:
There was a woman dating one of Hitler's Generals. When it became clear Hitler had lost his rabbit-ass mind, and her boyfriend was backing him up; she ran off to America- with her boyfriends trench coat. When she got old and eventually passed away, she left the coat to her favorite grandson... who turned out to be 7'9". He went on to run a roadhouse (yes, like the movie) and I had a tattoo shop next to it. He passed the coat on to me because I was unprepared for winter in a pine forest north of Houston. With it, the orders I was given was to wear it out and NEVER get it fixed. I am not allowed to preserve it in any way.

Black Bandanna (with skulls)- now, this is something I figure would set off the whole look. I've worn bandannas all my life from around 16. 33 now. The hat was added some 4 years back, and I just like not having 'hat hair' when it comes off. The style does, however, nod to my love of pirates and the mythos behind them.

So... in the end, I actually found myself offended that someone would accuse me of looking like someone I am not. In reflection, there was a time I didn't mind. Now, I do. I look like me. Not Undertaker. Not Dimebag Darrel. And in my fatter days, not Silent Bob.

When the clerk looked at me and said, "I see you're an Undertaker fan. You look just like him." I got a little upset. It was annoying to me. I try to look like I want and enjoy looking. At least it won't be an issue when I get my mohawk back.

Side note: my response was a little different when I was in jail a few months back. I walked into the holding tank filled with 40 Saturday night drunks and criminals at 2am and was greeted with "IT'S THE UNDERTAKER!" Admittedly, I couldn't help but to grin. I didn't expect to get much intellect from the mob so I wrote it off as my intimidation factor was properly adjusted for the criminal element. So... I guess its where I am that decides how I'm taken in.