A Fauxhawk?!

Andrew and I have had a monthly Personal Cash allotment--money we can spend however we want without having to account to anyone--since we were married. Of course, as newlyweds in law school I think we only had $1.50 a month, but the point is it was our $1.50, and let me tell you when that $1.50 starts to accumulate from month to month . . . look out, the world is your oyster.

So we're past the $1.50 stage but we still like our Personal Cash, I can buy anything and not feel guilty. Sometimes I'll save it for a few months and buy something bigger but a pattern has developed over the years, Andrew spends his money on computer stuff--software, gadgets, books about computers, accessories, if it's shiny and electronic he's there (who do you think got me started blogging anyway?) I, however, am supporting the textile industry--clothes. And except for the odd month where I hit Powells for more used books I'm shopping the sales racks for something else to wear.

Andrew can't be bothered with clothes. Let me rephrase that, he likes having them (and wearing them) but can't be bothered to buy them himself, hates getting them for birthday or Christmas and would rather give his Personal Cash to Hilary Clinton's election campaign than use it on a new shirt. But his wardrobe has grown more and more bare until this month he broke down and admitted he needed new clothes.

I have a clothing budget, though most has gone to school clothes and winter gear for kids, but this month he agreed to take what was left and his Personal Cash to buy some new things. Now by "new" I mean something that was manufactured recently. He's very cautious of new styles and fashions--you wouldn't believe how long it took me to get him to switch from pleats to flat front but he was feeling trendy or something because he took the task pretty seriously. Maybe it was having to use his Personal Cash that sobered him up.

He came home from his expedition greatly excited. He ran up to the bedroom where I was sitting at my computer desk, flung his bags down on the bed and pulled out his purchases. A new pair of pants . . . an oxford . . . a few more office pieces . . . and then--THEN--came the piece de resistance (no, say it with a French accent). He carefully unwrapped The Shirt.

It was a long-sleeved, striped, collared shirt. But no, hold everything, it was so much more than that. He pointed out that this collar didn't button down. No, the collar was loose and stood out slightly. And did I notice that he'd refrained from going with his trusted plaid and went with them new-fangled up-and-down stripes? And the cut--check out the cut--narrower through the body and sleeves, practically skin tight compared to his older, baggier, dress shirts.

I was impressed. Yes, it was much more stylish, quite Cutting Edge for my Republican-Father-of-Four-Attorney but I couldn't resist pointing out that if he was really going for The Look he wouldn't have got Nordstrom's wrinkle-free brand (though if you haven't tried them you are missing out on one of life's great joys, you'll never get anything else if you're the one who irons. Eddie Bauer has a good copy of the design too) he would go for the slightly rumpled look and he wouldn't wear it tucked in.

Yes, he admitted he couldn't stoop to going Untucked. But hadn't he made progress? I was definitely impresed--and he looked good. Next it'll be a fauxhawk and wearing his running shoes with the laces untied. Maybe not.

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