The first thing girls do post dinner date, I presume, is raid the fridge to compensate for calories lost eating air over a bed of kale salad. Or at the very least, unbuckle their wedges with the hopes of getting consciousness back in their feet by the time they make it up the stairs. And others, like myself, call their best friend. The second they walk through their front door. Before the guy even has a chance to drop them off and pull out of the driveway. Before anything else, before she asks what restaurant he took me to, if he has nice manners, or if his road rage is worse than hers (she doesn’t really ask that, but I like hating on her road rage), she asks, “What was he wearing?” And not because she cares to know. Because she doesn’t. She asks because she knows how absolutely obsessive I am about how a guy chooses to dress. You’d be surprised how many male pedestrians I see crossing the streets of Manhattan wearing crocs, in the year 2016. When they know how relevant memes are and how likely they are to be the butt of every joke. And for the record, Brown never matched with Black. I think as a society it is critical we dispel this notion because if I see another male wearing black and brown I am moving to Canada, with the rest of the democrats.
And then there are those guys that show up dressing like your dad. Think cargo shorts and polos. If your date showed up dressing like your dad would you sit there and enjoy your kale salad or would you conjure an escape plan bolt out the nearest window? Okay, so I’m being a bit dramatic. But hear me out! Envision a world with perfectly crisp shirts, tucked to perfection. And fitted clothing. And oxford flats. And suits. A world of suits. Doesn't that seem like a more appealing world to live in?
Nothing says I want a boyfriend more than walking into the Zara’s men section knowing very well that you have no good reason to buy a pair of men’s skinny jeans. I say this unabashedly because my friend made a Zara shopping cart filled with baby clothes. She doesn’t have a baby neither is she pregnant, or married for that matter, and so I think the former scenario in which I were to shop for a non existent boyfriend seems much less awkward in my head because at least I can wear some of those clothes myself. Whereas, one can’t possibly fit into an infant’s onesie nor could they pull off this printed Hawaiian shirt as cute as this Zara’s baby. Although where I lack cuteness in hawaiian printed tees, I win at holding watermelons. Right?
Just a few months ago my brother asked me if his suit matched his tie before a date and I think that proved to be very indicative of my biggest breakthrough. My work here is done. Going to take a breather and stalk more Men’s Fashion on pinterest. brb.