Some of the biggest arguments I remember ever having with my mom took place in one certain store in the town of Red Bank, Tennessee ... Cooley's Fine Clothing on Dayton Boulevard. Yep, Mom and I had some knockdown drag-out fights in that old store ... you betcha we did. Our heated disagreements had nothing at all to do with the store itself or with the family who had owned it for generations. The store was one of the nicest clothing stores in town at the time, and the Cooley family were all great people. It was the clothes that caused Mom and I to almost come to blows, or more specifically, the clothes Mom wanted me to wear and the clothes I wanted to wear instead. I hated it when Mom would tell me it was time to go shopping for new clothes ... I remember once I wedged a chair against my bedroom door in a stand of defiance, confident that my obnoxious behavior would mean never having to go to Cooley's Fine Clothing store again for as long as I lived. Suffice it to say that it only took a few minutes for Mom's unleashed fury to crush both my no-shopping plan and the hinges on my bedroom door as well. Mom was a little thing, but nothing could stop her when she got mad ... and certainly not something as insignificant as a chair wedged against the door or the smart-mouthed teenager behind it.
Those of you who've been reading along with me for a while know how much I don't like to shop, unless I'm shopping for Converse shoes for my granddaughters ... or anything else for them for that matter. I don't like to shop for groceries or lawn mowers or eyeglasses or pretty much anything really. And I especially don't like to shop for clothes ... I really, really, really don't like to shop for clothes because I have zero confidence when it comes to choosing clothing for myself. What I like and what I should like are on opposite ends of the spectrum ... shopping for clothes is best described as the most stressful situation you can possibly imagine times a gazillion for me. Choosing styles and colors and trying to figure out what goes with what or what's appropriate for a certain event or ... sheesh ... my palms are sweating and my stomach is churning even just writing about it. But there are times when I have no choice but to shop, you know ... times like last Saturday when a friend I haven't seen in a couple of years was in town for the day AND I had a 30 percent off coupon for Kohl's.
It's more than a little ironic that I first met my friend at the last Christian women's retreat I spoke at before ... well, you know ... it's ironic because he's a man, and trust me, it's not often you see a guy at a Christian women's retreat. He was there as a special guest to teach the women how to make floral arrangements and bows and wreaths and stuff, and I knew the moment I met him that he was a great guy and the kind of guy I would be honored to call friend. It turns out my instincts were right for once ... he stuck by me when a ton of people decided to leave, and he blesses me over and over with his quick wit and positive and upbeat attitude. Needless to say, when he messaged me to say he was coming to town, I was over-the-top excited to see him. I knew it would be a fun time no matter what we did, but shopping? Seriously? Our shopping excursion would have to rank right up there with the one when my friend helped me shop for clothes for my first-ever office party outing ... too, too, too much fun on both counts. Those two friends of mine are expert shoppers for sure ... mixing and matching and putting items together to create outfits and looks that I never could on my own. And ... they make it look so stinking easy ... it's like they have special shopping powers or something. Watching them shop is like watching a famous painter create a masterpiece work of art from a blank canvas ... don't laugh ... I'm dead serious.
Last Monday when I put on my new pink and white checked shirt, black jeans and new pink and purple and white and orange paisley tie and looked in the mirror, a smile crossed my face as thoughts of Mom and Cooley's Fine Clothing store roared into my mind. Checks and paisley together? "Mom is turning over in her grave, dogs," I said to Julie and Ollie as I tightened my belt and slipped on my shoes. "She would have an absolute fit that I'm mixing checks and paisley together ... nope, old Mom wouldn't like this mixing of checks and paisley one little bit." I got a ton of compliments on my outfit that day, including several of the young people telling me I was "totally rocking the power clash, girlfriend." After about the fifth time, I went back to my desk and got on the Google and typed the words "power clash in fashion." It turns out my dear shopping friend was correct in his choices on my new shirt and tie ... power clashing is all the rage in fashion right now ... mixing differing patterns and textures in clothing is cooler than cool. I'm pretty sure I smiled a little more that day ... I mean, after all, who wouldn't smile when they are rocking the power clash, eh?
Here's the thing, friends ... sometimes being a little different is a good thing, and I think maybe, just maybe, being myself, different though myself may be, is the best thing I can be. And a bonus "here's the thing" tonight ... I should never shop alone ... wait a sec ... I got a call last week telling me I've won an award and the lady asked me to attend a special event in November to accept it. I'm thinking my two friends and I should shop together for something for me to wear ... a shop-off competition between the two of them for the sharpest outfit for me ... oh, my, that could be some serious, serious fun.
Here's to power clashing ... here's to friends who stay ... here's to love and laughter and life.
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