I bought new clothes this week, because I had reached the point where I was selecting my underwear by how closely they matched my pants, which is one of the major pitfalls of adulthood, because we don’t outgrow our clothes so much as they simply cease to function as clothing.
But I didn’t just buy new clothes. I also bought a new carry-all, and I was spending time with one of my friends who looked at it and said, “Huh huh huh.” (I’m not exactly sure that’s what he said, but that’s what all heterosexual men sound like to me.) “You know that’s a purse, right?”
And I was stunned he’d say something like that to me, because here we were having brunch at a crepery with a one word name, my underwear matches my pants, and I’m wearing a hand-woven silk tie by Yve St Laurent, and you think I don’t know what a purse looks like? Are you kidding me?
(listen at https://soundcloud.com/yourfaultforlistening/rowan)