Marc and I have been married seventeen years. I married a good man, which is fortunate for me since I was completely clueless and about ten years old.
One thing we know after all these years together is that Marc knows best what clothes look good on me. Please don’t send me letters and try to get me to free myself like the good feminist I am. I am not shackled to anything here. I simply know when I’m beat. When I get compliments on my clothing, Marc has probably had some input. When I don’t get compliments, I probably got dressed in the dark and/or took the tags off before Marc could weigh in.
Everyone brings something awesome to the marriage. I bring my dance moves, and Marc brings his sage fashion advice.
WITH ONE EXCEPTION. I like infinity scarves.
Marc does not.
He really does not. And by this I mean I can see his face twitch a little when I put one on. I admit, sometimes the scarves are a bit large.
But sometimes they are pretty much fantastic and beautiful and trendy and youthful-not-slutty. When you turn forty, you are looking for youthful-not-slutty. Can I get an amen?
Marc disagrees with this fashion choice, and apparently, he is not alone. I was chatting with my friend Ann about this and Ann was feeling my pain. She and I were connecting about the infinity scarf. But then her husband, Jeff, came up and when he realized the topic of conversation, HIS FACE TWITCHED. Jeff also dislikes the scarves! He said, “Yeah, they’re not our favorites,” speaking for the males among us.
I think it’s the barrier issue. (STOP READING THIS IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN. I MEAN IT. GO PLAY.) Infinity scarves are barriers to what lies beneath. This reminds me of a dear girlfriend of mine that sleeps with her own dark blue, fluffy fleece blanket. Julie just cocoons herself up in that thing right on top of her sheets, snuggles in and goes to sleep with a smile on her face.
Her husband has named the blanket The Fortress. Imposing. Impenetrable. Sends a clear message for what’s about to happen if you attempt an advance.
Maybe Marc thinks my scarves are The Fortress, Version 2.0. Really, I’m just cold and trying to look cute. But he’s reading into what message I’m sending. (Or maybe he just thinks they don’t look great, but THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE. HE WOULD BE WRONG. AND HE IS NOT WRONG ABOUT WHAT LOOKS GOOD ON ME.)
Oooh. This is turning dark and broody. I just got chills. I’m going to get a scarf.