On patrol with the color coordination police
We all have embarrassing social flaws, don’t we? Well, maybe you don’t have any, but I’m loaded with them. I’m cursed with an inability to dance; I don’t enjoy professional sports; I have no interest in going to Vegas to gamble away my paycheck; and I’m a total bore at political fundraisers. The list could go on and on, but I want to complain a bit about the one social flaw that seems to bite me in the tail every day of the week: when it comes to dressing myself, apparently I have no color coordination skills. I know of this flaw because I’m always receiving color coordination advice, from everyone. I’ve heard so much advice about what I should wear, you’d think the brand of clothes I own is a brand called “THAT.” “Are you really going to wear THAT coat with THAT shirt? Is THAT what you’re wearing? You’re not seriously going to wear THAT, are you?” THAT’S a pretty lousy brand, but it fits me like a glove.
Take this past week, when I tried on some of the clothes that I bought on sale at the mall. These are nice clothes, but the problem is that they are all different colors. I put on some reddish short pants and decided I’d wear a green striped shirt with them. I thought it looked OK, but when I saw my wife, she promptly said I looked like a Christmas tree. Well, what’s wrong with looking like a Christmas tree? Wait...don’t answer that. Later on, I spilled salad dressing on the shirt, so I changed into a blue one. “No more Christmas tree look for me. Let’s see anyone comment on this outfit.” Sure enough, I went downstairs to refrains of, “Nope. It’s not a Christmas tree. He’s dressed like the American flag now.” In case you haven’t noticed...you can’t win around my house. They love me, but they’re merciless at times.
Maybe the answer to my problem is to just wear black all the time. There are no black Christmas trees, and I don’t know of anyone other than a pirate who would own a black flag. Black goes with black, white, red, green... it just goes with everything. Besides, if I wear black, I might be able to sneak — ninja-like — out of my house before anyone can make a wisecrack.
David McCoy, a notorious storyteller and proud Yellow Jacket, lives in Covington and can be reached at davmccoy@ bellsouth.net.