My husband is more than a bit of a ragamuffin - I don't think I've ever seen him not look at least somewhat tattered or disheveled. Even so, he is something of a clotheshorse, and he calls his look "alcoholic aspiring city college literature professor." His wardrobe consists of copius amounts of blazers and cardigans paired with mandatory collared shirts (perpetually wrinkled since we both refuse to iron things). He even brought slacks and collared shirts when we vacationed in Kaua'i. He also has an amazing vintage tie collection: all of his ties are subtle enough to not be deemed wacky or tacky, and yet they all feature odd designs (usually with badass animals).
Yesterday, I took a pile of his blazers in to be dry cleaned. As I was going through the pockets at home, I kept finding the same items over and over:
* small crumpled bits of paper covered with tiny indecipherable notes
* guitar picks
* cough drops
* and a bottle opener.
It was the bottle opener in a blazer pocket that really got me. If those aren't the contents of the pockets of an alcoholic aspiring city college literature professor, I don't know what would be.
2 comments:
He's prepared. Like a boozy boy scout.
Gee, you don't know? He bought all of those items at the "Alcoholic Aspiring City College Literature Professor" store. They usually run low on the "crumbled bits of paper with indecipherable writing on it," but there's plenty of plain ones without the writing.
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