Shopping for new clothes is not my favorite pastime. But shopping is a way of life for my wife. She shops every day, looking for bargains, buying from one store and taking something back to another. When I need something from a store, I make a note of what I need, go to the store, buy it, and never take it back. After all, I needed it, didnt I? My wife holds up a shirt and asks me how I like it. I notice that there is no pocket for my glasses, the sleeves have no wrist band to keep them off my hands and it's pink. In her mind, she sees me wearing it in front of her pals, me looking fashionable and well-off. She is thinking of how it will go with certain new slacks I have home that I have never worn and how good an impression that little crocodile on the chest will make at the next picnic. For me, function rules over fashion. Quality impresses me more than color and comfort stands above all else. My wife's gurus are: what is in style this season, how chic will it make me look and can it be returned without fuss. When jeans first came to fashion, I fought wearing them for years. They felt stiff, unyielding in a bend and were hot in the summer. Not until they made stretch jeans of a softer material would I condescend to wear them - and then only for working around the house. My wife's main criterion for choosing a pair of jeans for me concerned how good my butt looked from the back, how near to Clint Eastwood would I compare and where could she hide them so that I wouldn't wear them working on the car. I'm sure her thoughts ran to frustration if not downright unkind as she perused the ten pair of slacks hanging in my closet with the knees blown out and spots on the fronts. I can't help it if I have to dress up nicely for work but am required to spend a lot of time on my knees photographing babies. Once, as we dressed for a night out, I donned my wife's latest fashion find. Over a mock turtle necked sweater, thin, pearl gray gaberdine slacks with sewn closed side pockets were paired with a navy blue Nehru jacket, stylishly without inside pockets at all. I called out, "I'm ready", as she appeared in the bedroom doorway. Around me in a circle on the floor lay a pearl gray handkerchief, my allergy medicine, a chapstick, my wallet and car keys! All of which dropped straight to the floor as I tried to place them in my usual pockets. L.L.Bean has the right idea about clothes - loose, comfortable, containing lots of pockets and indestructible. Now that I am retired, I am slowly deep-sixing the ties, button down shirts and wing tip shoes. Let's hear it for golf shirts, shorts with eight pockets and loafers by Rockport. |
