My mother is going on a field trip tomorrow with the senior center. They are taking a day trip to Milwaukee. She’s pretty excited. This will be her first big outing with the senior center. (She can now walk well enough–yay weight loss and exercise! She’s thinner and fitter than she has been in decades.) I am excited for her, but not much help.
The following conversation ensued tonight:
Mama: What would you wear if you were going tomorrow?
Me: A pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
Mama: half smile and sigh
Me: Well, why would I wear something different?
Phone rings, presumably my sister, I am saved by the bell.
Denise overhearing the conversation thought it was funny.
Me: I just wondered:
1. Why answering the question asked with what I would wear was funny. She didn’t ask what she should wear.
2. Why my mother would ask me about what to wear to anything. Not good with fashion. This is why she and Denise get to figure out what I should wear.
Black shirts with black pants don’t match apparently. Denise taught me that. I think everything my mother taught me about fashion has been ruled wrong by that Missoni guy.