I hate being told what to wear. But the relentless brain washing fashion nazis have been on my case for decades. 

Now I think myself a rather stylish guy. I get it from my father who was a conservative but snappy dresser. Always wore cologne and was fastidious about his hair and nails. While I am not quite as fussy, I think I do make a good effort. But not according to my jack-booted partner that will give me the once over before I leave home and more often send me back to my wardrobe for radical adjustment therapy. And often I am forced to do multiple wardrobe appointments .

Now I met my partner at work and in those days I proudly self-dressed. This was a while ago. I really liked wearing corduroy and had a passion for wearing knitted woollen vests, most which were crafted by my talented mother, which I considered quite fetching and very practical with Melbourne’s ever-changing weather.

Clearly love is blind, as I should have seen the light when my new girlfriend started to take me out ‘clothes shopping.’ Now I did have my own clothing shopping system based upon the wear out factor as well as regular retail outfit purchases every two or so years. I liked to get value and leaned towards practical technologies like drip dry shirts that negated the need to iron, though they did promote body odour… but you can’t have everything.

Needless to say, my partner buys all my clothes and I have no say. And when I do venture out in a fit of brave stupidity and buy an item of clothing, I am frog marched back to the store for an embarrassing refund. Worse still is that she had deputized one of my daughters so in my partners absence I still got the “You’re not actually going to wear that are you?” echo throughout house. There was nowhere to hide… Thankfully my daughter has left home now but still treats me like a fashion failure and now she also buys me clothes. 

It’s been many decades now that I have lost my independence. But it’s all about love...and fear...and the price you pay to have a happy life and a happy wife…

But I still hate being told what to wear - truth be told I have been beaten into submission and really don’t give a rats anymore. 

But I do still love corduroy and knitwear.