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Not long ago, I posted a review of the book "Million Dollar Diva." Reading it made me long to be rich and famous.
Okay, I'll tell the truth. Not famous, just rich. But after finishing it, my little brain asked myself, "Self, how does one dress like a million dollars when one's budget is that of a Salvation Army diva?"
I turned to Russ. "How do millionaires dress?"
Russ is not a fashionisto. He wears the same color pants and shirt until I grow so tired of the clothing rut he's in that I rip them off him and throw everything in the washing machine. Believe me when I say this--Russ would be included but it's not easy stuffing him in around the agitator.
I'm thinking the reason I asked him was because it wouldn't have done me any good to talk to Corky Porky Pie. The dog would only have suggested fur coats.
"Well ..." Russ said, looking wise. Either that or he was having a bout of irregularity. It was hard to tell which from the look on his face.
"Clothes don't make any difference," Russ said, wiping pizza sauce off his T-shirt with an old piece of newspaper.
I pondered that. By a cleverly contrived coinky-dink, I'd recently run across a website called LS Mens Clothing, which advertised spiffy, custom made suits, sports coats, and tuxedos for the well-dressed CEO.
All of which might have looked great on Russ ... had he been tall, skinny, and less bald. Still, it was worth a try. I showed the site to him, hoping it might inspire him. After all, clothing makes the man.
"That dude has lint all over his jacket," he said, as a drip of ice cream fell from his spoon and onto Corky Porky Pie's head. I calculated the odds of Corky's tongue reaching past his eyebrows, up onto the crown of his head and licking that drip off--a feat akin to me touching my elbow with my tongue. (Admit it, now you're going to try that.)
I figured them at about 3,000 to 1. Almost the same odds as me convincing Russ to actually wear spiffy clothes.
"That's the tweed in the jacket, not lint." I crossed my eyes in frustration, wondering how I'd ever been convinced to go on a first date with him, dressing like he did. Then I remembered. We went to Catholic school, where everyone wears uniforms that encourage a lack of interest in the opposite sex.
Russ eyed the computer screen as if it were bursting at the seams with flesh-eating bacteria. "None of that razzle-dazzle for me. I'm just fine in my trusty jeans."
"You mean the ones with the hole in the backside, grease down one leg, and grass stains on the knees?"
He nodded. "Yup, that would be my favorite."
It's doubtful I'll ever turn Russ into a fashionisto. However, it's all right. Who needs fashion, anyway? And $1 yard sale dresses bought consistently over thirty years ... um ... er ... forty years. Oh all right, fifty years of yard sales is what enables someone to think like a million dollar diva in the first place. It's not the money or the clothes, it's the thought processes! Right?
Make me feel better. Just nod your head and say, "Yes."
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"How to Dress Like a Millionaire" © C.L. (Cindy Lynn) Beck
Tags:millionaire, million dollar diva, LS Mens Clothing, custom made suits
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