Get­ting the blues on the greens, get­ting togged out for the big oc­ca­sion

Wicklow People (West Edition) - - OPINION - with David Medcalf med­der­s­me­[email protected]

‘BLUE, I feel. Navy blue with white trim.’ Blue? I feel like telling the man that I haven’t worn navy blue since 1987 – but then that could hardly be true. I prob­a­bly wore navy blue last week or al­most cer­tainly last year. The thing is I can­not be sure, for two rea­sons. First, I al­ways get navy blue and royal blue mixed up in my mind. One is darker than the other. That much is sure, but which is which? With­out hav­ing served on a frigate or seen a monarch up close, it has never seemed im­por­tant to make the dis­tinc­tion. It mat­ters to this guy though.

Sec­ond, I can scarcely re­call what clothes I wore yesterday as the se­lec­tion of colour scheme is al­most al­ways ran­dom be­cause I am an early riser. Choice of ap­parel for the day is of­ten made in the dark, while Hermione sleeps on peace­fully as I ri­fle through draw­ers grop­ing for a clean shirt.

The motto is – if it fits, then it’s fine.

Such a slap­dash ap­proach sim­ply will not wash with this fel­low who is all of a sud­den di­rect­ing my ap­pear­ance as the big oc­ca­sion ap­proaches. He and dear Hermione have es­tab­lished a two per­son committee on which I have no vot­ing rights and next to no speak­ing rights.

I tell them that the last time I no­ticed what colour shirt a man wore was when Tiger Woods won The Masters in 2006. My ob­ser­va­tion only serves to re­in­force their con­vic­tion that they are deal­ing with an idiot who re­quires care­ful over­sight: ‘I think you will find it was 2005 ac­tu­ally and, of course, ev­ery­one knows Woods wore red on the fi­nal day,’ says my men­tor dis­mis­sively.

I sup­pose I should feel priv­i­leged. It is not ev­ery man who has a dresser. Hav­ing a dresser is a lux­ury nor­mally ac­corded to those who are more in the pub­lic eye. Pre­sum­ably Crown Prince Franz Fer­di­nand had a dresser ad­vis­ing him on the best way to dis­play the medals on his chest be­fore set­ting out through Sara­jevo on his fatal date with an as­sas­sin’s bul­let in 1914. Per­haps Europe would have been spared World War One if the dresser had dithered a lit­tle longer over the choice of jacket.

Fred­die Mer­cury must have had a dresser and ever y news­reader in RTE since Charles Mitchel has en­joyed the ser­vices of some­one de­cid­ing how he pre­sents him­self in front of the cam­era. Now I find that I have joined the elite, thanks to the sup­port and di­rec­tion of this MMS committee – Mak­ing Med­ders Smart.

I un­der­stand that such ex­per­tise is only avail­able in the short term and that I will be left to my own de­vices once more after this spe­cial as­sign­ment.

Though time is run­ning out, my man from MMS reck­ons it would be far too easy to fol­low the Tiger ex­am­ple and opt for red on top. In­stead a shiny green shirt is the must-wear choice. I am not sure whether the shade may be cor­rectly de­scribed as navy green or royal green but it is a damnably bright shade of green.

I am re­minded of the one piece of sar­to­rial ad­vice that has ever stuck in the fash­ion free zone which is my brain – blue with green must never be seen. So I blurt it out: ‘Blue with green must never be seen.’

My naïve in­ter­ven­tion prompts howls of de­ri­sive laugh­ter: ‘How sub­limely six­ties!’ hoots the dresser. ‘How des­per­ately out of touch!’ chor­tles Hermione. They as­sure me that ev­ery­one from Ge­orge Clooney to Roger Fed­erer is per­fectly happy these days to blend green with blue. As we are close to dead­line, the committee order that I keep any fur­ther such thoughts to my­self as they move on to kit me out with ac­ces­sories and footwear…

MMS was es­tab­lished in re­sponse to last year’s debacle when I showed up for the oc­ca­sion in a get-up which, ap­par­ently, was cringe­wor­thy in the ex­treme. My idea of sporty ca­sual was their idea of ready for the Barnardo’s bin.

Our Eldrick de­cided then and there that he would never al­low him­self to be seen in the pres­ence of such a raga­muf­fin. So he has ap­pointed him­self my dresser and worked with Hermione to en­sure I will be the quite the smartest par­ent on the course when we tee it up in the an­nual fa­ther and son golf tour­na­ment – a vi­sion in blue and green, with white trim.

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