Now that the weather is warming up, and the wool coats have been (optimistically?) put away for the season, women everywhere are sporting their new spring coats. Trenches, lightweight jackets, and coats in all sorts of lovely spring colors are the new "black wool" replacement.
I have a pet peeve related to this wardrobe item. I know, I know. Who has a pet peeve about spring coats?
The peeve is actually about ALL coats, but seems like a good thing to mention now. I consider this post a favor to all females, a "do good" moment for me towards all humanity.
UNTACK the back flap. Seriously, ladies. The manufacturer puts weak string in a little X down at the bottom of the back flap to protect the flap from tearing while it is shipped, unwrapped and sold to unsuspecting women. The threads are supposed to be cut before wearing the coat. It's called a kick pleat for a reason. You should be able to kick backwards through it! (See it up there on the right? NOT tacked together. Separate.)
I can't tell you how many women are running around Chicago (and likely all across this great country) wearing the back flap still tacked down. It looks silly, MUST make it harder to walk, and doesn't show off the cute little details that make these women's coats so fashionable.
Do me (and all of your fellow ladies) a favor. Because, let's face it, men don't even notice you're WEARING a coat, much less get the minutae involved. Just UNTACK the flap before wearing it.
I have other things to be peeved about, and trust me, I'll share them with you. Until then, just consider yourself warned. I'm half tempted to go up to women I see on the street and rip the offending flaps apart.
As a young(ish) woman, I have spent the last decade, admittedly, trying to figure out men. As my girlfriends and I can attest, they are simple creatures whose actions and words often betray the layers of complexity that may be found within.
That is, I thought that until I discovered, through a blossoming and very healthy relationship, that men are actually pretty simple through and through. As Seinfeld once said, "When a woman asks a guy what he's thinking, and he replies, 'nothing,' it's true. We're actually not thinking about anything." This theory is seconded by the recent "nothing box" discussions seen in this funny (and true) video.
The subject is the difference of how men and women's brains are wired. Men are more simple, according to the speaker, Mark Gungor. Women's brains, which will come as no surprise to anyone who is a woman or has ever known one, are connected like a superspeed highway with many twists, turns, overlaps, interconnections and jumbles of wires. A topic, to a woman, is never a singular one. It is attached to everything else in the brain.
For example, when a man mentions a party to a woman, she isn't just processing the invitation, she's thinking about what she'll wear, who will be there, if they'll accept her into the group, how she would feel if they didn't, what she needs to do in order to get ready for the event, what she may be missing out on if she does attend, and how the man in question will respond to all of the above. Because she'll undoubtedly share most of these intersecting thoughts with him, much to his dismay and/or confusion. To him, it was just an invitation to a party.
Men's brains, to the opposite, are organized into boxes. There is the Sports Box, the Food Box, the Sex Box, the Work Box, the Friend Box, the Family Box, the Beer Box, the News Box, the TV Box, the Weekend Box and the Girlfriend/Wife box. Hidden way back beneath all of the other boxes are the unsightly In-laws Box, the Ex Box, and the Exercise Box. When a topic comes up, a man's brain goes to the box in question, accesses the information necessary to compute the response, and then puts it back away, being careful not to touch, open or disturb any of the other boxes. It's like a well-organized garage, albeit with a little dust and a few random "collectibles."
And, finally, there is the "Nothing Box." This is the one that when a man is sitting still, walking down the street or watching TV, he accesses. This results in absolute nothingness. No thoughts, no activities, no obsessions, and no required response. When a woman asks him what he's thinking while this box is engaged, his honest reply is, "nothing."
This isn't to say that men are less intelligent, or less engaged in everyday life, it is just an assessment on how men like things to be. Simple. Why confuse things if they are better left alone? Why add complexities where one simple answer/activity is enough?
I think this theory of men's simplicity is best exemplified, of late, by the recent commerical for the new product, the Old Spice Hair & Body Wash. View it below if you haven't had the privilege to see it on TV just yet.
Because it would just be TOO MUCH TROUBLE to use two separate products. One for your hair and one for your body. I mean, come on. Men just want things to be easy. Give me a product, that I can buy for under four dollars at CVS, that I can open in the shower, rub all over my body AND my head, and then I'm finished. Hand me a towel and I'm ready to go. I am guessing this product can be found in the very small, rarely considered "Grooming Box."
Unlike the female wires of makeup, body image, salons, shopping, hair products, cosmetic surgeries, figure flattery, and other more complex, and misunderstood interconnected issues, the Grooming Box has two things inside. A razor, and this lovely Old Spice product. [Warning: Blanket Generalization Alert—this excludes many metrosexuals and most gay men. I'm certain, to their credit, that their Grooming Box is easily accessible, fully-packed with the latest products, tips and salons. Come on, they just smell too good for this not to be true.]
At least then there's no mildewing, hairy, slimy soap to drop in the shower. Because the "Cleaning Box," which includes scrubbing the bathroom, rarely sees the light of day. It is placed WAY back in the brain, just to the left of the "Anniversaries & Birthdays Box."
I wanted (or had resigned myself to being) the type of strong, smart, independent woman who doesn't need a commercial holiday such as today to make myself feel "romantic," "feminine" or "loved." Minus the bitterness common with singles everywhere on this fabricated holiday, I wanted to be the type of woman that used today as an excuse to celebrate fantastic friendships with the other strong, smart, independent women in my life. Which I've done for nearly a decade now—with great dinners, lots of laughs, and a few too many martinis.
But then the above arrived on my desk today, and I can't help it.
I like them. And the sender.
I can be strong, smart, independent AND a little smitten, can't I?
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