Occasionally one of the guys will accidentally wear something that matches. If I’m very careful and don’t mention it out loud, there’s a chance they will wear it out in public, and people will think I’ve had a positive influence.
The guys in my house don’t do their colors. They go by seasonal camo. The proper camouflage for summer in the South is red mud, which coordinates well with catsup.
I grew up in a house full of girls. Coordinating clothes were not on the list of the Seven Deadly Sins. That list was reserved for lipstick that didn’t match your nail polish, and bra straps that showed. These days nail polish matches your favorite food, and bras are worn like overcoats. Any day now, I expect Playtex to come out with a waterproof, hooded model with zip out lining. Or a Totes model that opens with the touch of a button.
Fashion is easier for guys. The only clothes-related conversations I’m allowed to have with my sons are
1) Smell this.
2) Is this a color or meatloaf?
I understand now why Duck Dynasty is such a hit. In a world where Heidi Klum and Giselle Bundchen make a million dollars for one romp down the runway, my household follows Uncle Si for fashion. The only accessory they need is a Tupperware glass of iced tea. And since today’s Southern women collect Tupperware the way our ancestors hoarded the family silver, and if it lasted long enough to pump before Bubba cleaned out the supply, our hose pipes would run sweet tea, we could rule the lower Mason-Dixon Line Fashion Week.
Wonder if Calvin Klein comes in camo?