My Sharp-Dressed Man
For the many of you who don’t know Wes and I personally, Wes is on the job-hunting warpath. Watch out, local companies and hiring managers, he’s terribly charming and undeniably clever. If you’re not careful, you might fall in love.
Anyway, Wes has a final interview for this really, really, super fantastic company at their out of state headquarters soon and he’s in need of a suit for that interview. They’re a formal company and, as such, expect their women to be fashionable and their men to be dapper.
Those of you who know us well know Wes and I tend to veer toward the casual side of the spectrum when it comes to off-duty fashion. Neither one of us has ever met a pair of sweatpants we didn’t prefer to real pants at home, and if we had our druthers we’d stick to jeans and cotton t-shirts every time we left the house. We’re well matched in that respect.
The thing is, though, the jobs Wes is being considered for are high-level. Companies tend to expect people at that level to dress well to represent the company well. What’s a chronic frumpster to do?
ZZ-Top was right! Every girl DOES go crazy for a sharp-dressed man!
Go shopping, that’s what. We took the kids to Men’s Wearhouse (where we were treated SO WELL) on Saturday and bought Wes his very first suit. And had it TAILORED.
You guys, I wish I’d been able to take a picture of how good he looked because, take my word for it, he was SCRUMPTIOUS. He looks like a million bucks in a nice suit and I have good reason to suspect the people he’ll be meeting with will think so, too.
It’s just funny, though, because Wes and I both kind of realized at the same time that we were growing up. We were in the car on our way back from the store when it hit us that this is a new phase for us. When we met, we were kids. We bought all our clothes at Old Navy and Target and that was fine. It’s a weird moment when you realize that it’s time for you to start dressing like a grown up.
Thankfully, I haven’t gotten there yet because I’ll be a stay at home mother/author for many years to come. There’s no dress code for either, unless you count sweatpants.
Anyway, wish Wes luck. He’s off kicking butt and being terribly impressive and now he’ll look FAN-FREAKING-TASTIC while he does it.
