Dressing the (Man) Friend
Monday, January 29, 2007 at 12:03AM 
One of the joys of being single is having lots of nice man-friends to hang out with and go on dates with…without being romantically involved. You know what I mean. You like each other, you do fun things, you go on dates, you’re just not dating.
It’s blissful.
My friend Mr. Green & I agreed to go shopping this Saturday. He had asked me to shop with him before, to guide his sartorial decisions with grace, style, and taste. He doesn't have a girlfriend, but I guess I'll do as first runner-up. What was in it for me? He said he’d buy lunch or dinner – whichever was more timely. Alright.
Mr. Green decides he can't live without the tomato bisque served at the Top of the Mark. This is a change. When I shop I usually just grab a hot dog from one of the many carts around Union Square - it's cheap and fast, two key factors when shopping. But this kind of meal-on-the-run may be too much for a rookie shopper, so I agree to fancy tomato soup. The drippy fog surrounded all of Nob Hill and made the usual Top of the Mark-Bay vista shrouded and misty. Perfect weather for tomato soup and sandwiches. From here we discussed our plan of action.
Green: “I want to go to Thomas Pink. I need shirts. That’s what I need - shirts.”
Me: “Okay, well I have a gift certificate to Hèrmes, so I want to go there.”
Green: “Hèrmes, what is that?”
Is he kidding? My God, the man’s like a blank canvas, an un-seasoned palette that’s been subsisting on bread and water while champagne and fois gras have been unknowingly housed just around the corner. This is going to be fun. Especially fun since Mr. Green has far more discretionary income than most people my age, and is simply begging for guidance on how to spend it. I love watching people who have money spend their money indulgently. It's almost better than spending your own money indulgently...almost.
We arrive at Thomas Pink, which is having a massive sale. The vibrant shirts pop out of their dark wood fixtures, and the entire place smells of fine linen. Despite the luxury, people are fighting their way through discounted shirts right and left.
Green: "How will I know how they fit? Should I do the 'slim fit'? What if it doesn't work?" I can see he's getting nervous already. I'm here to keep him calm, so I contributed the kind of fashion nerdy-ness I knew he needed to hear.
Me: "Well, Thomas Pink is an English fit-model, so it's going to be a lot slimmer than you're probably used to wearing. But we'll get you a sample to try and make sure you like it." Most European designer brands are cut much slimmer than American bodies (both male and female) are used to wearing. The European fit is taller and leaner, while an American fit is designed to accommodate those burly muscles and broad shoulders generally found on the American male. God I love this country.
Mr. Green is measured and tries on the sample - it looks good. Now it's just a matter of picking out the shirts. In the end, he chose five for work: two blue, two white, one blue-stripe (my favorite that I spotted the moment we arrived...,) and three for play: a blue stripe, a pink stripe, and a solid navy blue that had a fun contrasting paisley fabric on the inside collar and cuff.
Green: "I'm not sure about those. How am I going to wear that one?"
Me: "These are for happy hour - you're just going to have to trust me. Wear it with jeans and maybe a blazer. I can already see you at La Barca Room with your collar open to show the girls the cool fabric inside."
Green: "And my chest hair?"
Me: "And gold chains...All those girls down on Chestnut Street are going to lose their minds over you."
Green: "I already can't keep 'em off of me."
Me: "I'll take your word for it."
"He took out a pile of shirts and began throwing them, one by one, before us, shirts of sheer linen and thick silk and fine flannel, which lost their folds as they fell and covered the table in many-colored disarray. While we admired he brought more and the soft rich heap mounted higher - shirts with stripes and scrolls and plaids in coral and apple-green and lavender and faint orange, with monograms of Indian blue. Suddenly, with a strained sound, Daisy bent her head into the shirts and began to cry stormily.
"They're such beautiful shrits." she sobbed, her voice muffled in the thick folds. "It makes me sad because I've never seen such - such beautiful shirts before."
-from The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald
Next came ties - apparently neckwear was also part of the errand, so we found a few in the discount bin to match up with the shirts. Fortunately, we were also joined by a sales associate to help point us to the finer details...
Me: "So I like these because they're jacquard, which means that the pattern is woven into the fabric. That one is a print, which is fine, but not as substantial." I put together a few combinations, and even shocked the hell out of Mr. Green when I put a patterned tie on the blue-striped shirt.
Me: "See, now that's totally GQ - that's how a guy in London would wear it."
Green: "Really?"
Me: "Yup. They're all about patterns with stripes. Or they'd do the blue on blue combo..."
Associate: "She's right - that's a sharp look."
Green: "Seriously?"
Me: "Yes. With a dark grey suit."
Green: "Dark grey!?"
Associate: "Man - she's really good." Mr. Green doesn't want to listen, and decides he can do this himself...
Green: "Now, I like that combination."
Dead silence.
Associate: "Well, do you work the door at a strip club?"
Green: "Man, you two are rough."
Me: "Hey, you brought me along for help, and you don't even want to listen to my advice..."
Associate: "Yeah man - you should listen to her. She knows what she's talking about. She could even work here." Damn straight.
We end up with a beautiful red tie, one violet-striped tie, and one blue tie. The red was the real winner, and while there was a nice yellow one too, I suggested he go with the violet and blue since they're sort of on the "fun" tip, and he can buy a nice conservative yellow tie over at Hèrmes or Louis Vuitton.
In the end, we departed Thomas Pink with the eight shirts, three ties, and four sets of cufflinks. I put my hands over my ears when the associate gave Mr. Green the grand total, but I will admit he did very well for the amount of money he spent. We made some more rounds of the stores, and he even branched out and surprised me by buying a Figuier candle over at Diptyque. I assured him this purchase would make his apartment a complete babe lair. I also flatter myself that I taught him many more words in the fashion vocabulary that day, while he persistently asked annoying questions I had never considered before: "What's your thing? Shoes, bags, jewelry, what?" "What do you like...diamonds? It's diamonds isn't it?"
What's my thing? Do I like diamonds? Who is this guy? This line of questionning can get a girl into trouble - if she wanted it to...
Green: "That bag you said you liked - why is it so great? Why do you like it?"
Me: "It's a Fendi B-bag and I love the leopard print. I just like it - it's distinctive and fun, and unfortunately Santa Claus forgot to bring it to me this year."
Green: "How much is it?"
Me: "You can't afford it. Well, you probably could, but I won't let you buy it."
Green: "Well, when I make a lot of money someday I'll get you something nice."
Me: "I can't accept expensive gifts from men - it puts them in the position of power."
Green: "Only if they want something."
Me: "Pure didactics. In the words of Ava Gardner: 'You can buy me dinner baby...'"
Green: "I already bought you lunch...and we still need to go buy suits. Apparently I need a dark grey one."
Me: "You do. I'd consider Paul Smith or Armani. But I'm going home..."
Green: "Where's your car? I'm getting a ride from you."
Me: "Really? That's nice...I get to come out and spend my day helping you AND I get to drive you home? Sounds like I'm the one who got stuck paying for lunch."
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