My boyfriend went off to work this morning in a suit. This is different than most days. Just yesterday he was a student who could wear whatever fell out of the dresser and God love him usually did. Today he is an employee of a company who expects him to wear a suit. Not any fun grandpa-plaid affair you pair up with a retro tie and your Fluevog wing tips . No…an actual suit, the three-button traditional kind you (thankfully) receive a two-page description of in your “orientation package” so that people who don’t wear suits, like my boyfriend, know what kind to buy. The kind of suit you can’t buy at Beacon’s Closet or TJ Max, we came to discover.
So he trekked off into the streets this morning wearing a real-live suit --grey wool, burgundy tie, cap-toe oxfords, hair all gelled down just so-- the whole sha-bang. You have no idea how mind-blowing and preposterous that is. Without going into a lengthy explanation of his character, personal philosophy, musical taste and past voting record, let me use this as a shorthand…he is a man who--for several years of his life--would not wear shoes. Not just ‘some kinds’ of shoes. No shoes. No sneakers, no boots, not a single flip-flop, skid, or sandal. No shoes at all, ever. Yes --on purpose.
Okay, now picture that guy in a suit.
This morning as he was peeling the plastic dry cleaning bag off the jacket [brief pause while I wonder if I have ever had anything dry cleaned in my whole life…and that’d be a big ‘no’] he said, “Time to make my transformation into The Man.” We laughed at that. Nervously.