Eliciting this type of reaction is part of the fun of having dinner with said friend (and intentionally wearing things I know she will think are the anti-chic). But it raised an interesting question for me that I pondered for about 2 seconds. Does my husband think I look cute? Does it matter?
Of course, it should matter and I want him to think I am cute. But I ceased to consider what he thought of my looks around the time that I worked for a dotcom 12 years ago and went to work unwashed (like all my colleagues) wearing my then-boyfriend's giant fleece jacket and belted shorts. This was not an attempt at a borrowed-from-the-boys cute oversize look. My husband weighs approximately 100 lbs more than me - his clothes on me create a girl-drowned-in-fabric look. I went from the dotcom to Vogue and other extremes of not easily digestible clothes (like the calf-length Balenciaga swing dress and Herchcovitch blazer I wore to my husband's friend's wedding. Cue the puzzled looks).
Why don't I think about my husband's opinion? I know he doesn't really care, but I also know that it's a non-issue. Why is that? Have we been together for so long that we don't make an effort anymore? Or worse, don't care either way? Am I so secure in the knowledge of his love for me that I think he's blind? I know he thinks I'm pretty. It bugged me for a second or 2 but then I realized that he usually sees me at home, where I usually just wear black underwear and a camisole. I think he's okay with that.
