Wearing a new item of apparel gives the others a chance to rest, mixes up old pairings and keeps things fresh in wonderful world of my wardrobe
Somehow, this clothing etiquette does not seem to apply to the men I hang out with.
In sixth grade when I was in love with a blonde haired hunk of cluelessness named Ricky, I would strain my spectacle covered eyes to catch a glimpse of him in the hallway as we changed classes. As I traveled from Math to English during that first week of school, it became easy to spot him because he wore the same blue plaid shirt every day.
Every stinkin' day!
Eventually, even my deep and abiding love could not excuse his poor wardrobe choices and I was forced to move on to someone else. Actually, it may have had something to do with the fact that Ricky thought I had a weird laugh and that I had to stay home for two weeks with hepatitis, giving me somewhat of a Typhoid Mary vibe for the rest of the school year.
The man I married has no hunter gatherer instincts regarding clothing. If I want him to wear something I have to forage it out for him. And he won't wear just anything. He is quite particular about pocket depth, belt loop count and fabric toxicity.
So, I bring home a stack of possibilities and arrange them in an attractive heap on the bed awaiting his attention. Later, I move them to the chair because they are apparently under a Harry Potter invisibility cloak. After a week of growing stale and rumpled draped over the chair, the invisibility cloak wears off and if I bug him, he may try something on.
My success rate is about 50% which is a 1% increase for each of the 30 years we have been married. If I have scored a wardrobe triumph, the new item is then detagged and moved to his closet where will age for an average of 22 months before it becomes familiar enough to wear. But...when he likes something, he really likes it.
Guess what his current favorite is?
I never could resist a man in a blue plaid shirt.