Monday 30 May 2011


My partner and I enjoy doing something that most couples don’t do; in fact, most men on the planet blanche and run the other direction when their women suggest they undertake such a thing (ambiguity is such a vast pool isn’t it?) I’m talking about going clothes shopping together. I'm gathering that most men would rather be forced to watch 100 episodes of Sex in the City with a face mask on and their hair on fire. But oddly my partner does not only mind such outings, he is actually a very good shopping wingman. I think the key is that his strong opinions equally match his desire for nice things. Trust me, this is an essential mix for the male shopping specimen and I've realized that if you give a man an arena to exercise his opinion it doesn't always matter what the arena is.

We usually hit a store that has both a men and women’s section – this is key and helps keep his interest up (you also promise food at a later point in the afternoon. This is another successful ploy). We split up on various sides of the store, and get down to business as shopping for the both of us is a pretty serious mission. He is very humorous when he shops. He puts on his 'trying on' clothes face (serious, pursed lips) and has very distinct taste for what he likes and doesn’t like. This usually encompasses a longwinded commentary on why something works or doesn’t work (for me, this process is much simpler – no it's ugly, yes, I like it. It’s pretty much that simple) – "the fabric feels funny and the color isn’t right for such and such reason, or it resembles something so and so would wear on that show we watched that time and he certainly can't go around looking like so and so," etc. Then for some reason, every time I pick out a shirt he gives me that look of disbelief and reminds me he is not a cowboy or lumberjack. Why I always get this response is beyond me.

Then there is his bottom half (get your mind out of the gutter). Something about watching him find pants/trousers to fit him makes me feel that there truly is justice in the world. Cause for all the years I’ve spent trying to find the perfect fitting jean (they’re usually too long, too slim, or too big in the waist without appreciating the junk in my trunk), so has he. He’s not the fit into just any old pair of pants type guy, and the fact that we both have ample curvaceous ‘back,’ shall we say, also foreshadows what the King will be doing in his future – I’m assuming shopping for the perfect fitting trousers. We'll probably have family jean fitting day, just to make it a joint effort.

My partner also likes to help me shop; Again, I think it is because he prides himself on having an opinion about everything and he thinks of things most men would never consider. He’ll approach things practically – ‘that makes your ass look fatter than it is.’ Um, okay then. OFF it goes. [When shopping one doesn’t have time to sugarcoat things]. Or, ‘I like it, and you could wear it with those high purple shoes of yours or those little flat elf looking ones.’ He doesn’t always describe things in the most flattering ways, but I get the idea and greatly appreciate the effort. He also has a very strong opinions about the things he does NOT like me in. I have a nightdress he calls the 'Jesus shmata.' I gather that’s not a good thing and I should put this at the back of the drawer pronto. And according to him, only hookers wear wedge style shoes. Fine, if the wedge heel lights up or is made of colored lucite, but no matter how many times I try to tell him that certain shoes with wedge heels are not for women working corners, I’ve promised to save my espadrilles for when I go see my sisters. 

Okay fine, we certainly don't always agree, but I know I have a good thing, so compromise is key.
Copyright © 2014 Anthea Anka - Delighted And Disturbed