What Not to Wear
On Monday we bought Mr. MarthaWho a really delicious Brooks Brother suit. Black, three button, straight leg flat front trousers. Why the heck, you might wonder, why we were buying a dark suit in the middle of Southwest Florida while on vacation?
Mr. MarthaWho had been invited to speak at a conference in Vegas on Wednesday which he had accepted even though it would interrupt our vacation. It wasn't until we arrived in Florida that Mr. MarthaWho revealed that he did not pack a suit or accessories for this little side trip to Vegas. You read that right -- not that he FORGOT to pack the business attire, but that he CHOSE NOT TO.
Mr. MarthaWho is not what you'd call a metrosexual... he could use a little queer eye -- just a smidge -- to help smooth the rough edges. His sometimes obtuse style choices aside, the bigger issue is that he just doesn't care enough about fashion to be bothered. He had planned to borrow everything -- shoes, socks, belt, suit, everything -- by cobbling together an outfit from his Dad in Florida and his brother in Vegas, who have 20 pounds and 6 inches on Mr. MW, respectively.
I mean, really. Can you imagine?
Mr. MW and I used to work at the same performing arts center in our nations capital a thousand years ago. I remember one day at lunch I spilled a huge spoonful of chili on my white blouse. Which would have been annoying on any good day, but was particularly catastrophic this day because I had a huge event with big donors that evening. Needless to say I was freakin out. I was running through the possibilities in my mind -- trying to rinse it out (probably wouldn't work -- this was a huge stain), trying to run out and buy a new shirt (no time -- a million things to do before the event began).
Mr. MW did not think this was a big deal at all and as he calmly kept eating his lunch, he rattled off what he considered to be the best and only options.
The first was that I would turn the shirt inside out.
The second was that I ask to swap my blouse with one of my coworkers who was not working the event.
This conversation escalated into one of the first and most memorable arguments in our relationship. I was frustrated by his apparent lack of sensitivity or compassion to what was an obviously horrific disaster. He was frustrated that I wouldn't lighten up enough to accept that which I could not change and take one of his two perfect solutions. It became the argument against which all subsequent arguments were measured. A decade or more later now, the "Chili Stain Incident" is still part of our familial folklore.
Of course over time relationships evolve. Before you know it, you have accepted things about your partner that once seemed like true deal breakers. And in the process you also learn to change things about yourself, to meet half way, to compromise, to give and take. I guess that's what love is about. I have tried to be less incensed by Mr. MW's crazy suggestions and his lack of fashion consciousness. Mr. MW knows now that, unless you carry an extra clean shirt around with you, sometimes you can't solve a problem and it's better to offer a sympathetic ear instead.
And somehow it all works out.
But sometimes there is an easy solution to a problem. Which brings us back to the Brooks Brother Suit Incident. By the time Mr. MW was speaking in Vegas the only borrowed items were a shirt from Dad and some black shoes from his Bro. And as much as he grumped about spending the money on a suit, he kind of felt like the man in it and talked about it all day.
Sometimes you have to step in and save someone from themselves.
Thankfully, Mr. MW does that for me every day.
ps: I wore a black blazer over my white blouse -- all the way buttoned up. It was July and I looked like an idiot. But nobody ever knew about the Chili.
Mr. MarthaWho had been invited to speak at a conference in Vegas on Wednesday which he had accepted even though it would interrupt our vacation. It wasn't until we arrived in Florida that Mr. MarthaWho revealed that he did not pack a suit or accessories for this little side trip to Vegas. You read that right -- not that he FORGOT to pack the business attire, but that he CHOSE NOT TO.
Mr. MarthaWho is not what you'd call a metrosexual... he could use a little queer eye -- just a smidge -- to help smooth the rough edges. His sometimes obtuse style choices aside, the bigger issue is that he just doesn't care enough about fashion to be bothered. He had planned to borrow everything -- shoes, socks, belt, suit, everything -- by cobbling together an outfit from his Dad in Florida and his brother in Vegas, who have 20 pounds and 6 inches on Mr. MW, respectively.
I mean, really. Can you imagine?
Mr. MW and I used to work at the same performing arts center in our nations capital a thousand years ago. I remember one day at lunch I spilled a huge spoonful of chili on my white blouse. Which would have been annoying on any good day, but was particularly catastrophic this day because I had a huge event with big donors that evening. Needless to say I was freakin out. I was running through the possibilities in my mind -- trying to rinse it out (probably wouldn't work -- this was a huge stain), trying to run out and buy a new shirt (no time -- a million things to do before the event began).
Mr. MW did not think this was a big deal at all and as he calmly kept eating his lunch, he rattled off what he considered to be the best and only options.
The first was that I would turn the shirt inside out.
The second was that I ask to swap my blouse with one of my coworkers who was not working the event.
This conversation escalated into one of the first and most memorable arguments in our relationship. I was frustrated by his apparent lack of sensitivity or compassion to what was an obviously horrific disaster. He was frustrated that I wouldn't lighten up enough to accept that which I could not change and take one of his two perfect solutions. It became the argument against which all subsequent arguments were measured. A decade or more later now, the "Chili Stain Incident" is still part of our familial folklore.
Of course over time relationships evolve. Before you know it, you have accepted things about your partner that once seemed like true deal breakers. And in the process you also learn to change things about yourself, to meet half way, to compromise, to give and take. I guess that's what love is about. I have tried to be less incensed by Mr. MW's crazy suggestions and his lack of fashion consciousness. Mr. MW knows now that, unless you carry an extra clean shirt around with you, sometimes you can't solve a problem and it's better to offer a sympathetic ear instead.
And somehow it all works out.
But sometimes there is an easy solution to a problem. Which brings us back to the Brooks Brother Suit Incident. By the time Mr. MW was speaking in Vegas the only borrowed items were a shirt from Dad and some black shoes from his Bro. And as much as he grumped about spending the money on a suit, he kind of felt like the man in it and talked about it all day.
Sometimes you have to step in and save someone from themselves.
Thankfully, Mr. MW does that for me every day.
ps: I wore a black blazer over my white blouse -- all the way buttoned up. It was July and I looked like an idiot. But nobody ever knew about the Chili.
posted by Martha Who? | 6:43 PM
1 Comments:
Way to Metro by proxy for Mr. MW. Its the right thing to do. And way to go on seeing the yin and yang to the inner dynamics of a relationship. There are so many incidents to any relationship and chili stains do happen. The best policy is to accessorize and laugh.
And, a phat black suit from any fine clothier does make one feel a bit like "the man" in some respect or another. You can woo Mr. MW further by selling the ease of suits. One stop dressing, really. No tie required. @ least, thats how I roll.
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