Twilfitt and Tatting's

My piano teacher, who is always dressed beautifully, with clothes that match (and accessories even!) keeps trying to teach me some fashion sense. When I appeared at my lesson last week in my favorite blue sweater, she took one look and said gently, “I really don’t think you should wear that in public.” 

My protests about how comfortable the sweater was did not sway her. She may have even used the phrase “shapeless and horrible.” We’ve been friends for years, and she knew I wouldn’t be offended.

Then she came up with the idea of dragging me into a clothing store and helping me choose a sweater. I say, “help me choose” but actually she did the choosing. All I did was try the sweater on. It was one of those long, drapey sweaters that looked like someone forgot to cut off all the extra fabric. But it was a pretty color and extremely comfortable.

“You like it?” she asked, pleased.

I nodded. “It’s like carrying around an extra blanket.” In this climate, that’s a plus.

“You have to wear it home,” Piano Teacher insisted. “And make sure you tell me what your family thinks. Send me a text.”

I wore the sweater proudly into the living room to see my family’s reaction. Unfortunately, my daughter was off visiting her boyfriend and my husband wasn’t home from work yet, so I ended up modeling the sweater for my sons, the three people on earth who know less about fashion than I do.

“What do you think of this sweater?” I asked. I knew that inviting my sons to comment on my clothing was a bad idea, giving their willingness to tease me, but I had strict instructions from Piano Teacher. She was expecting a text message.

But Boy-in-Black's reaction surprised me. He looked over and said, “Oh, nice. I like that.”

I looked at him suspiciously. “You do?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking up again from his computer. “It looks like some kind of wizarding garb.”

 I’m going to take that as a compliment.