#7: Your husband’s fashion sense

desert

My husband’s fashion sense? Now, why would the initiator of this sad and desperate search term want to know about that?

If you are one of my readers, you may already be convinced that my husband has no fashion sense based on the clothing he buys me. But he actually dresses himself quite well when the occasion calls for it.

He wears nice suits and shirts. He’s often the only one in a meeting with a tie on. And he has a collection of antique cuff links that’s really quite impressive.

But like many of his species, he’s inconsistent. He went through a short-sleeved Oxford shirt phase that was truly unfortunate (I accidentally donated these shirts at one point.) He often has to consult me to see if something matches (he bats about 500 on this count.)

And, of course, the garb he wears at home is composed primarily of early-90’s novelty t-shirts, rugby logo-wear, and baggy sweatpants. But my yoga pants-wearing self can’t argue much with that.

So while I’ll give him “has a tailor with a good eye” I don’t think I’d credit him with the fashion sense necessary to address this individual’s needs.

Fortunately, he doesn’t read my blog so there’s little chance his feelings will be hurt.

By the way, I conducted minimal (that is to say no) due diligence to make sure the aforementioned search term was not the title of a porn video. But I think I can pretty safely say that no porn videos were harmed in the writing of this post.

Read the series:

Anxiety dreams involving my kids 

How do I talk to my surly teen? 

I have only one child but laundry and housework never end

Life is not a competition

How to relax and enjoy your children

Gym class was never like this

 

A disclaimer: While it perhaps shouldn’t need saying, let me remind you that I have no credentials, training or certifications of any kind that would qualify me to mete out advice to anyone. This is a humor blog. If you don’t find it funny, well, that’s another issue.

I need a new sweatshirt

IMG_0540A few months ago, I wrote a post about the beloved black sweater that for well over a decade has answered for me the question, “What should I wear?” As ratty as it is, I have since realized I have a much more disreputable item of clothing in my wardrobe.

As I stood at the ballpark last night chatting with other baseball parents, it suddenly dawned on me that I was the worst-dressed person at the park. While others sported carefully-coordinated casual wear or the clothes they’d worn to work, I was clad in the aging Hanes sweatshirt I bought years ago with no thought whatsoever.

This is the sweatshirt I grabbed off the rack at a discount store – along with four others in varying sizes – because my family mistakenly believed it could not be cold in central South Dakota in August. (Wrong.) It is large and gray. It is worn. It is missing the pull for the zipper. And I love it.

It is the item I always grab when I think it will be a little chilly. The neighbor who I see at the bus stop every day probably thinks it’s the only item of outerwear I own. The members of my yoga class probably roll their eyes when I walk in. And the parents at the ballpark? They are probably wondering whether a) I have no taste; b) I have no pride; or c) I have no disposable income. (Note: On any given day, any or all of these could be true.)

Time for a wardrobe intervention. I need to get some self-respect. I need a better-looking sweatshirt.

(But I’ll still wear this one when no one is looking.)

OK, I heard from plenty of people with ratty black sweaters when I published that post – who else has the aging gray sweatshirt? Tell me I’m not the only one!

What am I wearing? The black sweater, of course

Fashionable Moms Everywhere are asking, “Tell me, other mom, what are you wearing this award season?” Well, I can tell you without a doubt what I’m wearing – the black sweater.

The black sweater takes a selfie

The black sweater takes a selfie

What black sweater, you say? Why, the one I’ve been wearing for well over a decade that may, in fact, be older than my 9th grade daughter.

You know, the one from that retailer that no longer exists? With the barely discernible grease spot on the front?

Yes, that’s the one. The sweater that has gone to many high-profile locales and events such as:

  • Work about 100,000 times
  • Preschool “Moms and Muffins” day
  • The opera
  • The carwash
  • Several early-season baseball games
  • 10 or 12 dinners with the neighbors
  • Four adult birthday parties
  • At least one speaking engagement
  • The science museum virtually every time I’ve gone (we’re members)
  • Dance competitions
  • Happy hour
  • Lunch with my besties
  • Ten states and at least one other country

It’s been worn with jeans, yoga pants, a wool skirt, my favorite dress pants, and a cute, leather skirt that dresses it up bit. With tall boots, short boots, winter boots, hiking shoes, and heels.

Who's closer to retirement - me or the sweater?

Who’s closer to retirement – me or the sweater?

The black sweater is begging for retirement, but unfortunately, it has no replacement. Where else will I find a sweater that can hold up to hundreds of washings and still make another of its memorable appearances this evening – at a sixth grade band concert?

How could I have known when I bought it that it would offer the most value of any item of clothing I’d ever purchase, even better than the duo-fold, polypropylene long underwear I wore for over 20 years until it looked like a piece of swiss cheese? (That’s not 20 years straight, by the way. It is slightly too warm here in the summer for duo-fold underwear.)

No, the black sweater cannot be replaced. It is my longest lasting wardrobe love. There can be no other.

This is a blog hop – Click here to read what the rest of the glitterati is wearing this season and enter your link…

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My husband went to Canada and all I got was…

My husband has gifted me with the ugliest piece of logo wear ever. Not only is it mucus green and made of a fabric that threatens the endangered petrol species, it is a vest. A VEST people!

Logos obscured to protect the innocent

Logos obscured to protect the innocent

Did I mention it is also a men’s size large? That’s right – he thinks I am a large, colorblind man with no fashion sense. Its claim to fame is that it has a logo from the Vancouver winter Olympic Games (wasn’t that four years ago?) My only consolation is that he didn’t pay anything for it so I don’t feel a need to don it out of guilt.

My husband is not completely lacking in taste. He has a good eye for jewelry, and he’s always the best-dressed man in any meeting he’s in. But when it comes to selecting clothing for me, I have to wonder – is it that his overwhelming love leads him to think I’ll be beautiful in anything I wear? Or is it that he has not glanced my way in a few years?

You see, there have been others. An XXL women’s swim cover-up he bought when we were vacationing in Florida. (I’m a non-statuesque size 4. The armholes reached all the way to my waist.) And the size large boys’ ski pants he picked out for me, forgetting that adolescent boys don’t have hips. I, however, do *cough, cough*. I couldn’t pull them up over my thighs.

Then there was a pair of fleece pajamas that were very comfortable – that is, until I wore them to bed, my body temperature soared to a thousand degrees and I woke drenched with sweat from a dream of being in a hot tub with an extremely unfortunate collection of B-list celebrities. No woman over 40 should wear fleece to bed.

Not all the clothing he’s bought me has completely missed the mark. There was a fleece jacket that was sort of nice. I wore it quite a bit until my teenage daughter borrowed it and stuffed it into her gym locker for the rest of eternity. Come to think of it, there was another fleece jacket that was OK too. There must be something about recycled pop bottles that makes him think of me. Or perhaps he thinks to himself, “I’ll give the gift of fleece. You can never go wrong with fleece.”

It occurs to me that if I wore all this clothing at once I’d look like someone from a bad reality TV show. But even I have too much self-respect for that. Not so much self-respect, however, that I could resist posting a picture of the vest. You’ll notice I’m not in it.

Worst gift you ever got? I’m sure someone can top this. Or you can read my next post and find out how I almost got a whole team of sled dogs for my birthday…