For the first three or four years of my son’s life, I essentially stopped wearing solid, dark-colored clothes, and basically wore what amounted to being the dad version of the working-mom uniform: nondescript and washable Garaminals for adults (which for me meant checked shirts and khakis).
When the boy was a wee baby, I used to feed him before I went to work, which meant getting blobs of food, spit up, and drool on my suits before I headed to the office. Even when he got a little older, it seemed as if I was getting crap on my clothes whenever I was within 10 feet of the boy before I left for work.
I realized the other day that I recently started to wear black clothing again. Maybe it’s because (lately) I’ve been getting out the door before the boy is awake, but I think I can actually start dressing like a grown-up New Yorker again without having to worry about getting kid-inflicted food crap on my clothes. Or at least until kid number two arrives.
What am I wearing today? Black shirt by Brooks Brothers (who knew Brooks Brothers made black clothes, right?); my favorite knit tie by Ralph Lauren Purple Label; black jeans by Converse (15 bucks, on sale at Target!); belt from the Gap; shoes from Otto Tootsi Plouhound.