Will all y'all be attending the Pink Tie Ball/ Pink Lounge on Saturday? In honor of this function and an upcoming black-tie wedding, Mr. J has acquired a tuxedo. He tried it on last night so I could see if Mr-Mama needed to do anything besides hem it for him. (Having a seamstress on call is really so handy.) I think we can all agree that most any man looks better in a tuxedo ... but though I say so myself, Mr. J is mighty good-looking. Especially when he's all cleaned up. Alas that such doesn't happen more often.
I reorganized Mr. J's dresser and closet this weekend. The man has plenty of good clothes, mostly thanks to Mr-Mama. Far be it from me to complain that she likes to buy things for other people, but I do wish she would lay off the Hard Rock Cafe T-shirts. Every time she travels anywhere, she brings us T-shirts, complete with logos and/or cutesy slogans. Now, how many times have y'all seen me wearing a T-shirt? About as often as I've seen any of y'all: not many. Since I am not partial to manual labor or strenuous exercise, my T-shirt needs are quite limited. Given my previous life as a sorority girl and the stream of freebies sent my way from various charitable functions, really, buying me T-shirts is a waste of money.
I digress. This post is about Mr. J's wardrobe, not Mr-Mama's shopping disorder. I will save that topic for a later date; there is a whole post to be written about how, like the flu, her insatiable yen to fill my house with seasonal tchotchkes is returning with the cold weather.
As I was saying, Mr. J has lots of nice clothes, and he looks great wearing them. The problem is, he is far more likely to be wearing a pair of dirty ratty shorts and a T-shirt with a hole in it, even if we are going out to dinner. He simply does not understand the concept of dressing up or down for an occasion. If he happens to have on dressy clothes, and decides he needs to clean the gutters or work on the boat engine, he will do so without changing his attire. Thus the entire pile of ripped Dockers and oil-stained shirts I set aside as "work clothes."
I have tried to explain to him that certain clothes should not be worn for boat, car, or home repair. I have even informed him that certain items of clothing may not be worn without my express permission (in the hopes of preserving them). I have set standards of attire for varying circumstances: church requires a collared shirt and no denim; social occasions require no holes or visible stains. Mostly I just pick out his clothes whenever we are going anywhere together. To his credit, he is happy to let me.
I don't really know how I got here. One thing all my previous men had in common (besides average height and darkly ethnic mien): they were snappy dressers. Somehow I ended up with a 6'5" Viking who thinks wearing the same clothes three days in a row is perfectly normal.
Well, it's far easier to dress a man up than it is to repair his character flaws, so I clearly made the right choice. And Mr. J dressed himself for church last Sunday, and he did just fine.
Tux looked good. That was one hell of a party!
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