The "Zowie" Factor

It was senior date night at the cinema last night. Couples of a certain age packed the theater to cluck at Hope Springs, a movie in which unhappy Meryl Streep drags repressed Tommy Lee Jones off to intensive couples counseling. Midway through the movie I leaned over and whispered to my date, “why doesn’t she just rearrange the furniture?”

We rearrange our marital furnishings about once a decade. I used to literally move the furniture around when my husband went on a business trip. I did it for effect. He never knew what he would come home to, so to save his shins from nasty bruising(“Ouch! You moved the table!”) he made sure not to go away too often or be gone too long.

Our most recent re-arrangement is a getaway in the desert. We’ve had a lot of fun establishing a home to fit priorities that are different from our normal daily life. This culminated in our choice of an area rug to define a grouping of comfy mission style furniture. It came down to a choice between this—

Choice #1

and this—

Choice #2

Conversation #1:

Me: Well, the colors are perfect.

He: And it fits the theme. The pillow will work.

Me: But, it’s kind of a cliché.

He: I was thinking that, too.

Conversation #2:

Me: Wow! Not what I would have picked but

He: Very different from what I thought we said we wanted but

Me: It has energy

He: It has emotion

Me: Yes! It makes me feel good!

He: Will your pillow work?

Me: No, but I don’t care. It’s...zowie.

When “zowie” is part of your mutual vocabulary, your chances of needing marital counseling diminishes.

Pillow for sale

Clothes Story

I walked into my closet and announced to my clothes,

“I’m going to Arizona for a month!”

The fleece vests immediately got in a huddle and muttered,

“She’s not taking us.”

The church clothes hung proudly on their hangers and said,

“She’ll still go to church. She’ll take us.”

The sundress contingent peeked out from where they’d been shoved back behind the church clothes and laughed,

“I don’t think so.”

Then they flaunted their airy skirts and sleeveless construction. The lovely sweaters slumped in the corner.

“We’ve hardly been worn. It’s just now turning cold. We’ve so looked forward to a trip to the mall to see the new styles. Why would she want to go to Arizona in the winter? Now we’ll never get worn.”

The clam diggers slid looks at the short sleeved tees and smirked,

“We’re goin’ to Ar – uh – zo – na.”

The tees sang,

“We’re going too,” and they began to pair up.

The sandals rattled in their boxes high on the shelf, but the underwear remained quiet in the drawer,

“We never get a break. What difference does it make to us whether it’s the snowy mountains or the sunny southwest? We never see daylight!”

"Don’t get too excited,” I said. “I’m not going until March.”

They all relaxed, except for the designer jeans, whose bid for attention is constant.

Fashion essentials

I admit it. I love fashion. Not high fashion, I'm more the middle or low church when it comes to the liturgy of apparel.
I love the seasonality of fashion -- new colors, new sleeve lengths, new possibilities. I love the challenge -- what can I introduce into the tired collection sagging on my closet rod that will make it fresh and keep me current.
There is something about keeping current, moving with the tide. When you stop keeping pace with the current, you are in danger of drowning. So perhaps there is an element of competition, a quest to remain vital.
There is creativity is combining the old and the new. I love to observe how others accessorize and adapt their ideas to my own style.
There are layers to the what" and "why" of fashion. What am I trying to say about myself? Why do I choose this basic over that eye-popper?
There is an element of respect for others and for situations in fashion. I learned that when I went to Sears for something I deemed essential in the middle of moving into a new house. Too exhausted to care what I looked like, I thought I could slink into anonymity without changing the ratty t-shirt, unflattering shorts, flat hair and no make up (you can do this when you are 25, but it you are 25 you don't like to see your mother do it!).
As I handed over my credit card to the sales clerk, she looked at me in horror and blurted out, "What's the matter with you?" I actually apologized to her for coming to the store looking like a dragged cat and she proceeded to give me a life lecture. I don't remember exactly what she said but I do remember being suddenly aware that my "I don't care" attitude was dragging others down the drain of my spiraling exhaustion.
That's the yin and yang of fashion. It's at once a a whim of change, an urge to update, a quest for something new, a non-essential diversion; and its an acceptance or denial of the effect we have on other people.
It's always been a presbyterian sin to notice what others are wearing when you're supposed to be focusing on the message. But I confess, I'll be noticing that hint of glitter in your trendy scarf that draws me to the glimmer in your eyes.