It takes some kind of skill to totally piss off your husband with one word. And a word that’s G-rated.
But I did.
Poor Jose. The other morning my first word when I saw him dressed for work in beige gabardine trousers was the P-word, uttered in horror.
Shoot me. I’m shallow like that.
We live near, and work in, New York City, a place where the streets are filled with people whose style, income and devotion to looking good can be a little overwhelming. Every time I head into Manhattan, I have to up my game a little. People you hope to work with size you up within seconds.
So when I see my husband wearing a pair of pants that screams 1986, I scream too.
It made for a very tense day. No man wants to be criticized for his fashion sense. But Jose also runs a wedding photography business and some potential clients may see things as I do.
The sad truth is that every time we step out the door we’re being judged by how we look.
Whatever your style statement — including the fact you can’t be bothered making one — it’s saying something to others about you.
If you hope to compete, and win, it matters, (even you personally couldn’t give a rip.)
How much does appearance — yours and others’ — matter to you?