Bringing along two women to help shop for clothes can be extremely healthy.  This way, you won’t necessarily buy what you would ordinarily buy, but learn what other people think you should buy, which frankly is more important.  If I actually bought only what I wanted to wear, I’d have nothing but a closet full of white T-shirts and maybe a red cape or two.  Fernando was right: it’s better to look good than to feel good.

So I invited my friends to come with me during one of my infrequent clothes pilgrimages, and it worked better than I had dared hoped.  Interesting and unusual clothes were yanked off racks and pushed into my hands with ruthless efficiency. If I mumbled out loud about needing a size larger, someone zipped off and immediately got it for me.

The store clerks looked strangely at our whirlwind of activity. I said, “I’m Mormon and these are my two wives.”

It’s also good because the clerks themselves are far less annoying. Usually they try to weigh in with “You would look good in this” and “Try that,” but you can never trust store clerks; they’re driven by commission, and I also think they like to play practical jokes on customers, the way bored cooks spit in your soup.  But they were powerless in the face of my two friends, twin sentinels who monitored by every move and insisted on seeing the results of everything I tried.

To my surprise, I vetoed practically nothing.  There was one red striped shirt in particular that I simply couldn’t handle, although I might go back and buy it if I decide to be Raggedy Ann or Andy for Halloween.

And there were definitely a few times when I was pushed outside of my comfort zone.  A gray sweater that looked as though I should be offering to carry someone’s schoolbooks? A polo shirt with three wide stripes, as though I was flipping burgers for the grandkids while swimming in and out of dementia?  I would have gone past these items without a second thought if I had been on my own, but armed with my own personal shopping versions of Ebert & Roeper, I was forced to take two female thumbs up into consideration. And, once placed on my personage, these odd clothes did actually seem to work.  The gray sweater in particular snapped into place and I saw the fashion-laded possibilities.

GQ will not be inviting me to be on their cover anytime soon. In fact, they frequently write me letters and ask me not to even buy the magazine because it hurts their brand.  Nonetheless, I am content with the results.

It’s interesting, though, how shopping breaks down barriers and causes people to become more candid than they were before. By the end of the day, opinions were offered as to what the new clothes would displace.

“That green, shimmery shirt you wear? Yeah. That’s got to go.” (pause) “You know, I’ve known you for years, but I’ve never spoken up about that.”