I went hunting for a subject in my husband's closet this morning. And despite my newfound knowledge that red is a hard color to paint, here I am doing it again. But how could I resist a faded bow tie, I ask you?
My husband and I come from different backgrounds. I, a New Yorker, was accustomed to men wearing jeans on the weekends, and grey suits with white shirts and black leather shoes to work Monday through Friday. That was pretty much the standard uniform for the male of our species. Then I came to New England, and my views on such things took a pretty big hit.
John, a Bostonian, was wearing jeans and a pink shirt with an alligator on it the day we met. I never knew a man who wore pink anything, but there he was. Huh? Did I mention the leather wing tip shoes he had on with aforementioned jeans? It was interesting, certainly. But I had to keep a straight face while I tried to figure out whether or not he was serious. Turns out, he was.
It took me a while, but eventually I grew used to the new, broader color palette. As for the bow ties, up until then I had only thought them suitable for the likes of Winston Churchill. But there he was, wearing his own or those inherited from his father, and I grew to like it. Nowadays our son sports a bow tie from time to time, often taken from the same closet I raided this morning.
I'm not sure, but I think I'll paint another one before my 30 days runs out.