The Importance of Good Grooming

Most times I really don't care if I look scruffy or disheveled.



I wear a Harris Tweed jacket to Nuova Lazio High, and always a collar and tie.  (Strange expression when you think about it.  Can you imagine the scene if ALL you wore was a collar and tie?  No other part of the shirt visible?  Weird)  However, I wear this stuff because it's comfortable, has lots of pockets for pens and things, and it does make my job a little easier.

I've found over the years, that wearing this almost stereotypical 'Teachers' outfit reduces the student's tendency to show disrespect and to misbehave.  It must be some sort of hangover from the 50's culture, with officious Bank Managers in pin-stripe suits, Army Officers in Gieve's Uniforms and Cabinet Ministers in Frock Coats and Morning Dress. Teachers are sort of expected to wear hairy jackets and odd tie/shirt colour combinations (The jackets really should have leather patches on the elbows, so proclaiming their wearer's dedication to keeping up appearances, but paid far too little to do so without using some type of make-and-mend, but bugger that for a game of soldiers; do you have any idea how much leather patches actually cost these days,? IF you can find anyone who actually stocks them AND they're a bugger to sew on)

However I digress.  I don't really pay that much attention to my style of dress, I go for comfortable as an expression of my personality via my outer wrappings.

Comfort is all

I own, and frequently wear, long-used cardigans, floppy and worn corduroy trousers, ever-so-comfortable-and-soft flannel shirts with the collar stiffening showing through the material.  I always try to dress to the expected weather conditions, which here in the Wellington region of NZ (where we're exposed to the weather patterns rushing through the Cook Strait), can be a bit of a challenge.  I've seen it go from a pleasant18°C with blue skies, to a hailstorm with a temperature of 5°C and howling gales, in under 30 minutes.  You learn to dress with layers, and always have some sort of waterproof handy.

My Beloved is the only person (other than m'daughter) whose opinion on my choice of clothes would cause me to change.
If she says "That shirt doesn't go with that tie"  then I go and change it.  I really don't care, and if it keeps her happy, I'm happy to oblige.

But sometimes I wonder.

Yesterday we went to the RWC® match with the Mighty All Blacks versus courageous Canada.  The venue was the Westpac Wellington Regional Stadium, known locally as the caketin.  This stadium is not a fully covered enclosure, but it does have substantial overhead shelter for the people in the good seats, but otherwise you are exposed to the elements, and the caketin is renowned for the swirling and gusty winds that whip round inside.

So I dressed warmly.

Green flannel shirt (long-used, and very soft and comfortable), black woolen pullover (to show some vestige of the ABs colour of choice, and NEVER representing the thieving and cheating ENGLISH who appropriated this iconic colour for their alternative strips.  Coincidence?  When playing in New Zealand? I think not.), khaki cord trousers, an All Blacks scarf and Beanie, and a Gortex outer jacket (with a waterproof storm hat in the pockets)

I was all ready to go when my Beloved said "That shirt doesn't go with that pullover"

Now I thought to myself
We're going to a Rugby match.
 The fans will be dressed in as many outrageous styles as can be imagined by a very fevered mind.
Nobody cares what you look like.
I'm pretty sure our pictures will not appear in the Society section of The Dominion Post or even Good Housekeeping
WHO CARES

But I did as my Beloved requested.
As I've said I really don't care about my appearance.
It was just a small thing.
I wanted my Beloved to be happy.

I'm such a wimp.