Mom pulled to curb by fashion police

My mother-in-law was a sharp dresser. Her shoes matched her slacks, which went well with her blouse, and the entire ensemble was properly changed up by her stylish jewels, which complemented her functional and yet fashionable pocketbook.

Long before the fashion police regulated women's luncheons and Mr. Blackwell's list was a concern, my mother-in-law knew what to wear and what not to wear. She knew that black panty hose should never be worn with a white dress and that sneakers didn't go with knit slacks no matter how far you had to walk.

And her husband followed suit. When dressing for dinner, it was quite important that their outfits complemented each other. She certainly couldn't have him wearing beige on an evening that she was wearing chartreuse.

The horror!

Some might wonder how such a fashion forward woman could give life to the man that I married. Some might think that his apple fell far from that tree. It's not that he can't dress fashionably. It's not that he can't pick out a color scheme for his clothes and tie it all together with the right pair of shoes.

He just doesn't want to.

No sir, my beloved spouse is a man's man. He's the head of man cave and the president of the Guy's Club for Men. He's not afraid to change his own oil, shave with dull blades or to use a pocketknife to trim back his nails.

As for me, I don't follow any fashion rules per se. I wear what I like, sport what is comfortable and have no qualms about a white jacket before Easter if it feels like it's the right weight.

I know that theme sweaters were an embarrassment to the '90s, that pleated pants are the devil's handiwork and that anybody who is anybody would never wear animal prints while sporting a floral handbag.

So recently, while packing for a wedding in a nearby town, I thought I'd be the dutiful wife and throw a few things in for the hubs. I selected his shirt, pressed his slacks, and tossed in a smart-looking tie.

I then hung his ensemble by the front door and set about selecting my own outfit for the big night.

Much like their father, my boys are a rough-riding group if ever there was one. They're all about energy, dirt and anything that involves a bucket of sweat and a game ball. They came through the room with the grace and ease of a summer storm. One was sporting baggy pants and a dirty Tshirt, another was dressed for a day on the driveway, and the youngest was wearing a winter shirt with a pair of gym shorts.

"What's with the brown?" one of them inquired as he laid eyes on his father's freshly ironed shirt.

"What do you mean, 'what's with the brown?' " asked his brother. "Brown is a good and basic color."

"I don't know," he responded with a turned up nose. "It's just so," and then he shuddered for a minute before he added, "brown."

"Isn't it the wrong season for brown?" inquired another brother as he spun a basketball on his fingertips.

"Brown can be done any time of the year," one of them said as he wiped his grimy hands on his shirt, "especially when one's attending a formal occasion."

"I don't think so," argued a kid as he flipped up his dirty baseball cap, ran his hands through his rumpled hair and stifled a burp. "I think that brown can be a fashion faux pas if worn in the wrong season."

"You don't even know what a faux pas is," said the basketball-bouncing brother. Then he turned and looked at me, patted me on the back and added, "Although, I'd recommend you rethink the whole outfit."

Not taking their thoughts seriously or letting their criticisms muddle my day, I continued packing for myself and set it all next to the door so my husband could load it into the car.

"Is this what you packed for me to wear?" he asked as he held his freshly pressed brown shirt up by the hangar.

"Yes," I responded. "It's a nice lightweight shirt."

"You want me to wear fall colors in June?" he inquired with a raise of the brow.

Turns out that apple didn't fall too far from that tree after all.

Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book "Are We There Yet?" You can reach her at www.loriclinch. com.