Daddy’s Little Girl

Sunday: cream Louboutin lizard slingbacks

Most people would assume that I owe my passion for fashion to my mother. She was, after all, the woman who instilled in me the value of quality over quantity (though I must say once I got a credit card the latter caught up), the fashion catechism according to Chanel, and my entirely healthy obsession with couture. (Our joint goal in life: to put ourselves at the mercy of the petites mains at the House of Chanel.)

All true. And yet… I’ve got to give some props to my dad on this Father’s Day because (1) after living in a household of women most of his life, he knows the difference between a slide and a mule, (2) he never complained too much about feeling deserted when my mom, my sister and I would be gone all Saturday on our shopping excursions, and last but not least (3) in the immortal words of ZZ Top, every girl’s crazy about a sharp-dressed man.

For a bookish professor, Daddy knows his men’s haberdashery. As a young prof back in the day, he had the coeds cooing over his coif and his cologne. He even had a Yves Saint Laurent moment with his safari suits in the ’70s. More recently, he was wearing monochromatic shirt-and-tie combos long before Regis. He spends more time in front of the mirror working on his hair than my mom does. (Well, okay, let’s just say it’s a tie.) With his ties arranged in ROYGBIV order and his shoes meticulously polished–weekly–his closet is as organized as Cher’s in Clueless.

So here’s to my fashion-plate dad, who was metrosexual when metrosexual wasn’t cool. Daddy, the gift certificate to the spa is in the mail! Happy Father’s Day!

This entry was posted on Sunday, June 19th, 2005 at 11:04 pm and is filed under Miscellany. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.