The other morning my husband did something he often does: asked my opinion about something he was wearing. This particular time it was in reference to a new brand and style of white button down work shirt he was trying.
Yeah, you look great!
But what do you think of the different material and cut?
Umm, it looks nice and white? And the cut looks good?
It’s white because it hasn’t been worn yet and you don’t even know what I mean by cut, do you? Don’t you see how the collar is wider and there isn’t a button in between my elbow and the French cuff?
Oh, of course. Yes, I see. Collar looks great. Sleeve sans button looks cool. I really like it.
[Sigh] I am not sure why I keep asking you when your sense of men’s fashion is stuck at age 15.
Ouch. Okay, I can admit I find something very hot about seeing my husband in a hooded sweatshirt and a baseball cap. Perhaps it brings me back to when we first started dating. Reminds me of the goofy kid he was. But to reference 15 is just creepy. And wrong.
He was 19 when we started dating. A clothing reference point that would still totally make him legal today.
In all fairness, I love it when he wears a button down, too. The problem is that I like it best when he then rolls the sleeves up and pairs it with a nice pair of Chuck’s (which he thankfully also appreciates and does wear sometimes). He would prefer to keep his sleeves buttoned and wear ‘casual’ dress shoes.
Why the Hell is my husband more grown up than I am?
I have to be strongly persuaded to buy any item of clothing over $17. H&M feels like a splurge to me. Target feels more…on target. hahaha See? Completely juvenile.
I know the cheaper, trendy pieces don’t last very long and don’t always look so becoming on a 30-year-old mother of two. I do. But it is really hard to break away. And even when I force myself (okay, okay am forced by others) to buy something of truly high quality that is beautiful and will last a lifetime…I have trouble making myself wear it.
Fancy things frighten me.
I’m trying to mature a little bit. Non-stretchy jeans here. A shirt made of something other than cotton there. Maybe time to throw away moccasins that are held together with safety pins and a few members of my own Hoodie Collective. (Funny, he is never begging me to sport one the way I am him?)
I’ll get there.
But I don’t think I will ever understand men’s dress shirts and suits. Sorry. Your shirt is white and crisp. Your suit is dark and fits nicely. You look very handsome. But I am pretty sure that has more to do with your face.
I’m thinking our tastes will start to match up better around age 35. I’m picking that age entirely at random, but it seems appropriate. I’ll be ready to buy nice things, knowing that I won’t have to trade it in for maternity clothing 4 months later. He will probably be feeling his age and want to dress a bit younger again. Our style paths will cross.
Until then, I give him as much high heel as I can muster and he throws on a backwards baseball cap and gives me a wink sometimes when he’s sitting around the house. Thankfully, it hasn’t started to feel Mrs. Robinson-y yet. You’ll know when it does when you see me carting a giant bag of hoodies, sneakers and caps off to the Salvation Army.
