Yesterday I went shopping.
My husband came with me. This is not my preferred method of shopping.
I like to shop alone. I like to take my time looking, trying on, comparing. I may return to the same store an hour later and try on an outfit again. This is my right. I don’t take it well when someone might look at his watch and roll his eyes. I’m not naming names.
I was shopping for sweaters. It’s cold. I want new sweaters.
I am easy to please. I want warm. I want cozy. I don’t want thin, but I don’t want bulky. I want cool and funky, but not teenager. And I want something different from what I already have.
How hard could that be?
I was gracious about my husband tagging along. Because we went to the mall. And he can park.
I had to go to the mall because I wanted to check out a store whose clothes look very very cool on its website. But what if it’s all photography, and the clothes are really dumb? And the only store within 50 miles of me is at the dreaded mall. And my husband can park. He can park his truck in a space the size of a bathmat. So I let him come.
And he was really good. He followed me and stood at a comfortable distance from me, and watched me fondle sweaters.
I was contemplating a burgundy pullover. It was long, tunic-style, which is my current love. But it was a little too thin. Not lush enough. I want lush.
But I was thinking about it anyway. Because the color was nice.
And Hubby finally came over.
“That’s okay,’ he said. “But I bought you a sweater that color last Christmas. And you told me you loved it. But you never wear it.”
Well, now that is totally possible. I have an item or two (or twelve) in my closet that I told him I loved but I may not have been telling the exact truth.
But honestly, I couldn’t remember it. And I have a memory for clothes that, with all modestly, is unsurpassed. I can describe the dress I wrote to my National Honor Society induction in 1969. (yellow, billowy sleeves, very short, floral border at the hem)
But a burgundy sweater just last Christmas? Or red? or cranberry? or wine? Or the year before?
I drew a total blank.
“You gave me a burgundy sweater?”
“Yes, I did. It was some kind of dark red. And it had a really fancy pattern in it.”
“The only sweater I remember from last year was the Ralph Lauren. Longish. V-neck. Cabled. I wore it this week. Tuesday.”
“It’s navy blue,” I added.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s the one.”