Suit yourself

I'm constantly teasing Mark that he grows overnight, but there is some truth in it. I always buy his clothes a size too big, so he can wear them longer than a minute, but he manages to outsmart (or outgrow) me at every turn.

For example, last spring I bought him a suit. He tried it on, and the coat was obviously too long -- I couldn't see his hands at all. "Perfect!" I proclaimed, figuring I'd get at least a couple months out of it.

By the time he put it on again at Christmas, I could definitely see his hands -- and his wrists, and his cuffs, and about halfway up to his elbow. Mark didn't want to wear the suit, but it was Christmas Eve, and he didn't have a choice. The only one happy about the too-small suit was Grant, who realized he was about to get a new suit from his favorite cousin Marky.

And so last week, it was time for a new suit. We're going on a cruise to Alaska this summer, and Mark needs some fancy duds. (And even some not-so-fancy duds -- 90% of his wardrobe are school uniforms.)

I was holding out to buy his suit closer to our actual departure date, but because of Easter, the stores had dressy kid's clothes on sale, and you know I can't pass up a bargain. So I purchased his next suit, a snazzy pinstriped black suit, and some pastel-colored shirts and ties to go with it. (The pinstripes were a compromise. Mark really really really wanted a white suit -- this one in particular, called the Steve Harvey Gangster Pinstripe Suit. He begged all he could, but I would not relent.)

I handed over the new suit and a pale green shirt, and asked Mark to try them on. He came back with the suit buttoned up, and said, "I tried it on with a different shirt." He then unbuttoned his coat, and flashed his white and blue Dodgers jersey.

"Nice shirt," I told him. "But doesn't quite go with the suit." I sent him back to the room, grumbling, to change it. I reminded him that if it was an Angels jersey, he could've worn it. (We have a big Angels - Dodgers rivalry in our house.)

He came back wearing a new shirt and clip-on tie, and he looked great!

Mark loved his new black suit. It was big (think David Byrne from Talking Heads), which made me happy -- we still have 2 1/2 months before the cruise, and barring any freakish growing spurts, I think it'll still fit him then. And it had pinstripes, which made Mark happy, even if the color wasn't his first choice.

"You look good, buddy," I told him, adjusting his collar. "Now that's how you should dress!" He smiled and strutted around the room proudly.

"I'm gonna wear suits like this when I grow up," he told me, and I nodded.

"You dress like that and you'll get a good job when you grow up," I told him.

He shot back, "Well, I guess you don't have a good job, then." I looked at him blankly, and he said, "Well, you just wear jeans to work. So you must not have a very good job."

And thus ended the fashion show.

"Don't worry about my job, buster," I told him. "Worry about your manners instead!"

He went to change out of his suit, and suddenly I thought maybe the white suit was more appropriate instead for my little gangster. If he gets any mouthier, I may buy it for him, then take him for some professional portraits. Now those will be photos worth sharing when he's older!

Keep on clippin'

Mark loves clothes -- he's obsessed with them. I'm not sure how to deal with that, since I, as you know, am not similarly obsessed. It's not so much that I'm uninterested in clothes, I just didn't get the well-dressed gene, like my sisters-in-law did. I'd like to describe my style as "casual chic" or "hip soccer mom," but it's really more along the lines of "It was clean, and it matches, so I wore it."

But Mark's really picky about what he wears. Once he decides clothing is not to his taste, it takes an act of God to convince him to wear it. (Ironically, he attends a public school district that requires uniforms, which drives him crazy.)

His taste in clothes is definitely teen skater. He loves Tony Hawk brand clothes, or anything with skulls on it. He loves hoodies and baseball caps, but only the ones with flat bills. He likes jeans, but only black jeans -- he refuses to wear blue jeans, for reasons unknown. Also in the reasons unknown category -- clothes must meet strict criteria; interestingly enough, cleanliness is not part of that criteria. He'd wear the same clothes every day without washing, if I let him (for the record: I don't let him!).

Mark also likes to experiment with patterns and colors. It's not uncommon for him to wear a knit cap, striped shirts with camouflage shorts, topped with a plaid hoodie and flamed shoes, and to scoff at me loudly when I suggest perhaps adding a solid color item to the outfit. I've been scoffed at enough times that now, instead of making suggestions, I make pictures -- photographic evidence to torment the adult Mark.

His clothing style is definitely casual -- except for ties. For some reason, he loves ties. He hates collared shirts, but will wear them with a tie. He wears them willingly, and proudly.

This weekend, he wore a tie. He dressed himself, and asked, "How do I look?" I assured him he looked great.

He not only loves ties, he's very protective of them. He was reading a Garfield comic book, and came to a line where Garfield disparages clip-on ties. That line stopped Mark in his tracks.

"Whoa!" he said loudly, dropping the book and holding up his hands. "Whoa! Watch it, Garfield! That is not cool!"

He took a deep breath and shook his head.

"You okay?" I asked, stifling a giggle.

"That is soooo not cool!" he answered, a bit angry. "He'd better watch it about the clip-on ties, or I'm not gonna read his book anymore!"

"It's all right," I said soothingly. "He's a cat -- what does he know about ties, anyway?"

"True," Mark admitted, but he still felt stung. He loves cats, and to have his favorite animal diss his favorite article of clothing...well, that really was a slap in the face!

Eventually, he did calm down. He held tightly to his clip-on tie, though. Nothing was gonna come between him and his tie -- not even a cartoon cat.

Yeah, that doesn't quite match

Mark has certainly inherited my sense of fashion, and that's not a good thing. Sadly, he has my eye when it comes to putting colors together...

This was today's ensemble. We purchased the new clothes yesterday, when I clearly and definitively told him the shirt and shorts DO NOT MATCH. Guess what he was wearing when he came out of his room this morning?