I volunteered to go buy pants for our older son, as he is out of the country right now. His wife is going to visit him and can take them. So it's Macys in the Morning (I believe you know that musical). And I might as well pick up some black pants for my husband, as he has none. He needs them for the chorus concerts he's in, and he actually thinks navy blue is the same color as black. This is not your exciting shopping experience. Men's clothes are boring, deathly boring, and once they have brown, khaki, gray, black and blue pants, what's left? Fuchsia? Paisley? No wonder they don't like to shop. I made my husband wear a colorful shirt for an anniversary party we had a few years ago, and that's the first and last time he deigned to put it on. He tries to hide it in the closet, but I hang it front and center when he's at work. At least I can look at it and sigh a little. He prefers shirts that are flannel plaid, with the colors so similar you can't tell if he ever changes his clothes. And he is sentimental about these drab and dreary clothes, so you have to cajole him to get rid of the ones with rips, missing buttons, and those now too small. I once had to get rid of a sculpture I loved to trade for his recycling of a car coat he'd worn since 8th grade. No, it had no historical value whatsoever.
So, what can I say? I may be forced to glance at women's shoes or toddler clothes or something in the humans' section, just to liven up the trip. I feel it is my moral obligation to colorize the planet, as these men just haven't got a clue as to the function of clothing. It's hardly for practical reasons, especially in this season when we could all traipse around naked without harm (well, without catching a cold). Obviously, clothing is a response to the marvelous colors of nature around us and a message to the flowers and the birds that we DO participate in the glory of our planet, and I don't mean the brown part under the grass.
No comments:
Post a Comment