I hate the way my husband dresses. I know that’s mean to say, but I know I’m not alone here. I could poke fun and just leave it at that, but hey…I’m choosing instead to give him a hand. So you’re welcome.
Armed with some funds from our newly stocked bank account, I decided to let my fingers do the walking and comb the Internet.
It felt a little reckless, but it also felt so damn solution oriented.
Thanks to my effort, there are days now when his outfits are not so bad—but those days wear down quickly because once he catches on that I like something he has on, it gets a repeat performance until I’m bored to tears.
I will also add that I’m not a fan of the always sporty look. I know he doesn’t appreciate the forever yoga look I easily could have going on, so it seems fair game to enforce the same with him. I’m also a believer in mixing it up: definitely shift up the genres. He’s not a suit guy; he’s a comfort guy. A breathability guy. Style is my thing but it’s going to become his…thanks to me.
Again, you’re welcome.
I guess you could call this a Pippin Makeover, without his knowing it. Not that he would object – he’s just not that concerned with any of it except to please me. And for me, it’s imperative that I look good. When I do, the world is an open book and I can write how it goes. Whenever we’re going somewhere, he invariably groans, I feel like I’m bringing your whole look down. I think Pippin is stunning, and he ages like fine wine…so I’ve decided to quit thinking he will step it up and instead, just step it up for him.
Today his first order of clothes arrived. And I unboxed everything and showed him what I bought. As I held up one shirt I liked, he exclaimed, Oh, this one isn’t bad. I could mow the yard wearing it. I quickly had to interrupt his thinking: Your whole wardrobe is mow-worthy. This is the shirt you can date me in.
So from round one: He only has two send backs. Shorts that I agreed don’t look very him and a lavender linen shirt that I was sure he’d go gaga over. But the seersucker pants get to stay! As does everything else. The next line of order is shoes–and If I have it my way, his Adidas flip flops will find their way to the garage, right beside the mower.