He Just Likes A Nice Breeze Round His Bits

01/26/2014 · 12 comments

in Adrian,Love,What Is Wrong With You?

I married a very sharp dresser.

He’s very fastidious in all aspects of his life, to be fair. His beard is always trimmed and neat. His hair is long, but always trimmed and under control, or pulled back. The man does not own tennis shoes, only loafers. He didn’t wear jeans until he was 24.

He’s a clean-cut, khakis and polos and suits and ties and tie clips and preppiness until everyone just wants to choke themselves on Lacoste and Lily Pulitzer.

If he knows one thing, it’s dressing well.

That said—you know how every genius has their one weird guilty pleasure? Dave Grohl loves Gangnam Style. Jabba the Hutt’s was butter and golden swimwear. Mine is Kenny Rogers hardcore slash fan fiction.

Adrian’s is linen.

Like George Costanza said if he could, he’s be naked for all time wearing nothing but velvet, swathed in velvet like a king for eternity, that is Adrian’s deep love affair with linen.

At first, he hid it from me like secret puppy to a four-year-old. He accrued the pieces one at a time so that I wouldn’t notice: some lounge pants here, a short sleeve shirt there, a tie.


One day, like any other day, I sat at my desk working and I saw Adrian walk by on his way out the door to work. He was a blur of beige as he veritably sprinted past.

“Hey, whoa whoa whoa. Come back here and give me a kiss before you leave for work, babe.”
“Oh, uh, okay. Sure, I’m just in a hurry.”
“Please come here.”

Back in the door he strides, covered head to toe in linen. He was wearing a full beige linen suit and a long sleeved linen shirt, complete with linen tie. He looked like Jimmy Buffett’s CPA.

“What in the fuck are you wearing?”
“Linen. It’s really hot today and I have a meeting.”
“You have to be kidding. You look like a nerf herder.”
“I am so comfortable that that insult doesn’t bother me at all.”
“Really? Do I have to drive all the way to Margaritaville to get my taxes done or do you have a satellite office in Paradise? Do you take payment in Cheeseburgers?”
“I do not understand those references. I love this. I am so comfortable and happy and cool and I look so businesslike.”
“You are the opposite of businesslike. It’s kind of like seeing a non-lumpy sack of potatoes give a presentation.”
“Goddamnit. I never make you change what you’re wearing.”
“Yesterday you told me I looked like Peg from Married With Children and asked me to ‘tone it down.’ I am justified in my request that you not look like you long for the good ol’ Antebellum days, good sir.”

Every once in a while, he’ll try to sneak in a linen piece–slacks or the jacket or the tie–and I don’t say a word. One at a time is one thing, but the next time he tries to pair everything together I’m gonna buy him a straw hat and ask him what it was like to know Huck Finn as a child.


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