DOWN HOME: Are you too old to wear corduroys?

Posted: 1/05/07

DOWN HOME:
Are you too old to wear corduroys?

Joanna took me shopping, but she didn’t stay long enough to protect me from the sales clerk. Oh, the humiliation.

Like most guys I know, I’m a buyer, not a shopper. The difference is the agenda. A buyer’s agenda is short. He knows what he wants and goes looking for it. Nothing else matters. If he’s shopping for jeans, and the store is selling $65 dress shirts for a nickel, he’ll come home only with jeans. But a shopper’s agenda is open. She may need a blue sweater, but if she sees fuchsia pumps at a great price, she’ll come home with fuschia pumps. And the blue sweater.

As a hard-shell buyer, I prefer to “shop” on the Internet. The Internet eliminates all the challenges of shopping—huge malls, parking, crowds, distractions and sales clerks. You type the name of the item you need, look at the options, make your pick, pay, and you’re done.

But my wife of lo these many years knows that, while I’m pretty good at buying dress shirts online, my wardrobe would look like a uniform if that’s the only way I bought clothes.

So, she took me to the mall.

I “needed” a pair of brown dress slacks, and found them right away and was pretty much ready to leave when she informed me the men’s store had a “buy one pair, get the second pair half off” sale going on. She convinced me if I thought hard enough about my closet, I could come up with another pair of pants that, if I didn’t actually “need,” I could at least wear regularly. And that’s how I came to own a new pair of tan corduroys.

(Oh, yeah, and while I was trying on the pants, Joanna found two sweaters and a shirt. Has she got an eye, or what?)

Once she stacked my new clothes on the sales counter, Jo figured I could take it from there. She announced she was going to run down to one of her favorite women’s stores, and she told me where to meet her.

The sales clerk, Justin, and I got along great while I paid for all the new duds. But when he started packing it all up, he asked: “Where will you wear these corduroys? Around the house?”

What kind of a question is that? I stammered for a second and said something like: “Naw, I usually wear jeans around the house. I’ll wear cords when we go out to eat, and sometimes I’ll wear them to work.”

Sensing my defensiveness, Justin tried to smooth things over. “I’ve always wanted to know, and you seemed like someone I could ask,” he said.

I must’ve looked mystified. Justin explained, “I’m too young to wear cords.”

OK, the kid is half my age, but he didn’t have to make an issue of it. The only reason I didn’t cancel the sale and bust his commission was I feared facing Jo empty-handed. (Plus I really liked those brown slacks.)

Some people think of God like Justin thinks about corduroys. Do you wear your faith only around the house or only at church?

This year, may we possess everyday faith—a durable, active relationship with God that goes wherever we go.

–Marv Knox