Sorry for my misinterpreting your father's remark, FNB.

I've often known people to make disparaging remarks centering on sexuality when they often have no clue about mine. I simply assumed your father's remark fell into that category. My father critisized me in much the same way yours did you, as a prodigal lover of luxury.

Oh, to be a dandy... sigh*

An image came to mind today. Back in the beginning before I cared about clothes. My parents would take me shopping and look for clothing, especially for my Dad. I remember I never paid attention and that annoyed my father. He paid particular attention to what he wanted and he made sure he got things that worked. Poor man couldnt even put a tie on a white shirt. He still calls me for suggestions.

Mom would bring back bubblegum pink cords for me and I would roll my eyes. Seersucker suits and poplin ones I could live with and of course the sports jacket and blazers and the myriad accesories.

I always cared about clothes  but I never cared. I just put things on and never paid attention after that. Somehow by reading about and painting lead soldiers plus Mom's talent for pattern mixing it clicked. I do know other people started noticing I had done something special in the manner that I wearing an article or combination that I wasnt even aware i had accomplished myself.

Ill never forget the odd jolt I got when someone asled me why I was wearing a particualr item. it had never occured to me that was a "why", just what i liked but I started to realize that what i liked interested others. At one point my gf's dad asked me where he could get a tie like mine (It was a Chipp Tie and I still have it!), which made my inner eyes slit like pillboxes. I had no idea what this unique "power" I had was and I found it as unsettling as I did flattering.

Then I got the Moers book as a gift from her mother. It was a bit weird reading about yourself in the first chapter. I rather wondered if it wasnt like those daily horoscopes which seem to universally apply. In retrospect its even creepier that her mom had me pegged. Though, I always thought she liked me more than her daughter.

But when did I go from not caring to caring? I would like to know myself because it has proven a double edged blade. I will keep pondering it. However at some point, I just became aware. Qualities of clothes would excite me even if I didnt know what they were called, from a certain richness of the wool to a certain suppleness of the shoe leather.

I can barely remember that period now which is why a rare glint back to that time, when "doing it well" was an unconscious act, is memorable for me.