Tuesday, September 18, 2012


The last time I wore overalls, I met a friend for dinner. This friend is a stylist and has seen her fair share of strange and unappealing clothes. Her reaction to my toddler-inspired outfit was, "Do you have your period? Is that why you're wearing that? Does your husband think you're cute in that? Doesn't he object?" 

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.