The Jacket

Tonight Michael is attending his first home game of the Jazz in many many many years. And yes, he is wearing the jacket.

What Not To Wear

My husband is a pretty great guy. He's extremely intelligent, the perfect dad, and does a wicked funny Yoda impersonation. I love Michael. I do NOT love his Jazz jacket. In our nine years together I have successfully quit him of the socks-with-sandals habit. I have thrown out more than one pair of Girbaud jeans. I got rid of the excessively long braided leather belt, (remember the "loop"?) along with a number of abominable old screen-printed T-shirts advertising everything from the high school orchestra to Disneyland. To his credit, I don't think any of these items were in regular use by the time I tossed them.
However, I have decided it is time to "lose," or possibly "accidently" burn with the iron his favorite Patagonia shirt. The one with two stains on the front. If you have seen him lately, you know exactly which piece of apparel I am referring to.
But my beloved won't let me chuck the jacket. Or even put it in long-term storage. So for now the jacket stays. In all its hideousness. At least he doesn't usually wear it out of the house, and he threw away the matching high-tops.
Michael's fashion faux-pas aren't completely his fault. He hasn't had to make a wardrobe selection outside of scrubs or a suit (he actually does quite well in the suit/tie/belt/shoes department) in so many years, I think he no longer knows how. This makes him a great candidate for one of my favorite shows, "What Not To Wear." Maybe once he's done with residency and ready for the real world I'll nominate him.

I wonder how much a jacket like that would fetch on e-bay . . .