I was listening to one of my favorite groups, ZZ Top the other day and their song Sharp Dressed Man, and it got me thinking how close to the truth it was.
No one dresses anymore like they used to. I hope the next X0 years bring about better use of fashion than the last X0 years because I’m beginning to miss admiring a well dressed man.
I’m talking French cuffs, starchy shirt collars, pocket scarfs, Italian leather shoes and well fitting suits, subtle cologne, men who aren’t afraid to wear pink shirts or designer ties, even suspenders sometimes. I miss a man who owns a tuxedo for winter and summer which still fits and is used often.
I loved and was loved by a man like this once. He was a tall blond Norwegian who had style and panache most men can’t even imagine and even refuse to anymore. He never owned a pair of thongs (flip-flops), never picked his teeth in public, he let other men fix his car engine, he didn’t watch TV shows or sports unless he participated.
He played golf and taught me how. He took me to Austria to see the ski jump he skied down after college; he proposed to me in Rome over candlelight; he took me on a carriage ride in Central Park, NY one November and he brought Dom Perignon champagne and two glasses. It was cold but we were cuddled under a blanket toasting at twilight while the driver gently nudged his horse through the park. Well dressed men don’t hesitate to be romantic.
On a trip to Europe we stopped in Garmish-Partenkeirchen to ski the Zugspitz. I lasted 4 times up on the cog railway inside the mountain tunnel steaming hot and 4 times down with frozen hair and limbs before I cried ‘you win’. We found out later that night it was one of the coldest days on record but he still liked winning and I was happy anyway.
He spoke with an accent I can still recall with longing, he had Carribean blue eyes I still see in my dreams and always seemed to be tanned. He was built like a fine snow leopard, muscular, firm, trim and graceful. He looked amazing in anything he wore and had the most beautiful hands I’ve seen on a man.
He made me laugh and when he wasn’t there it made me cry. He made me realize I had a heart with love inside. Every woman in my family loved him, as any woman would for obvious reasons but also because he was not afraid to show everyone how much he loved me.
He let me drive 110 miles an hour from LA to San Diego once without too much complaining. He looked the other way when he got me drunk one winter on Aquavit outside a Swedish restaurant and I spilled my guts in the parking lot. He didn’t laugh when I met him one August in Fort Lauderdale for a visit and he saw that I brought a flannel plaid jacket. He forgave me for flattening all four of his tires one day after he forgot about a date we made. He wasn’t at all interested in my beautiful blond best friend who was Swedish. He thought my Aunt’s were crazy and wonderful and he was right.
He took me to Provo, Utah and taught me to use cross country ski’s, after that we rented a snow-mobile where we zipped through the fields recklessly fast. Too fast to see the upcoming culvert in time to stop before we sailed over it like we were on a flying carpet. When we landed on the other side I promptly fell off. I’d never been more shaken or alive.
I was young and didn’t think to let my past ruin my present. The baggage wasn’t there at the station to limit my ride or overburden me with doubts. I fell wholeheartedly in love and it was triumphant!
We weren’t like blood in the veins we were the CELLS, living, alive and vibrant together.
All because he was a well dressed man.
