Busting out the wardrobe

“I like spending time with you,” says Susie. “See,” she says, “returning one of your kind statements with another kind comment!”

Hmmm. I scan the horizon on 15-501 North from the minivan’s passenger seat. It’s hot, the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, and we’re on our way from church to a party for some friends who are celebrating the baptism of their son.

I know, you are thinking, oh…those poor Red State people.

“I wonder,” I respond, “how much I am going to enjoy pushing this Sienna in the hot sun with you when we run out of gas.” The light is on, its actually been on since before church. But who’s noticing?

There is a BP on the right. We pull in and I hop out so that I can make sure to stick my 3 percent Chase rebate on gas credit card into the machine. That adds up when gas is $3.19 per gallon for 87.

The guy across from me is sitting in his Ford Ranger XLT while his car fuels up. He looks at me for a moment. Its funny, but you aren’t really supposed to notice other people while you pump gas, even though you are just three feet away from them. It is one of those unsaid social rules. What if we talked? Are we ashamed that we are so gas-desperate that we just drive up and pay any price? My solution is simple.

“Susie,” I say, “you need to stop driving.”

He is looking at me though. I think it is because I only got about halfway done in changing from my church clothes to my party clothes. (Like a mullet, I’m business and party, all at once.) I am wearing a yellow oxford, white jean shorts, no belt, black dress socks, and a nice pair of New Balance 1060 running shoes.

So I concede. “You like the socks, eh?”

He smiles. “Yeah, that’s different.”

I think its different, but ready to catch on.

About 10 years ago, I began wearing flip-flops. I believe the specific moment was in 1998, during a week long trip to Maui for my brother’s wedding. They were considered dramatically uncool by some fashion experts in my family. My specific choice were the “Locals” brand.

Since then, my fashion forward sense has been confirmed by the mass of flip-flopping. I bring it up because I think the next fashion backward look will be…I am calling it here….black socks with shorts. I think it resonates with the British DIY scene, and also plays off of the shift in NFL cleat choice from white to black. It says, I don’t mess with worrying about all of that. It protests the IPOD in your Nike shoe gear fetish that always seems ready to choke off any simplicity in exercise.

But anyway, Mr. Ford Ranger XLT is cracking up. “I think your outfit matches, those yellow shoes really pick up on the shirt.”

He is right, of course.

The pump stops at $59.99. Is that an accident?


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