Sweatshirts

I've avoided wearing these for most of my life. I've always thought them to be despairing, slobby kind of clothes. The kind you wear when you've given up on life or your looks, when all you want to do is stay inside all weekend eating Haagen Daz and listening to the rain.

Today came close enough. Rainy, wet weekend with the prospect of work and more work in front of me. So I pulled on the boy's grey sweatshirt (I don't own any myself, and his are nice and worn in). Lo and behold. I got compliments on the sweatshirt. Not from strangers, but nearby boys. From various strangers, though, as I later skulked through Nordstrom with all its highly coiffed women, I got scrutiny.

This situation confused me, so I asked the guys who complimented the sweatshirt. One replied that it's cute in the same way that wearing your guy's button down is cute. And the boy remarked that wearing something plain puts everything else in high relief. It's good to know that I could have avoided spending the hundreds of dollars I've spent so far, and just got down to Wal-mart and gotten a few Hanes Her Way.

(Not really. If we set as our standard, male approval, what bottom dwellers we would be.)