JulieLeung.com: a life told in tidepools

I like to watch my husband pack. I like to watch the way he folds his shirts. How he puts the shirt on the bed, bends the arms behind the back and makes a tight square to place into the suitcase. Everything I know about men’s clothes I learned from Ted. But I still can’t fold his shirts as well as he can. I guess I don’t get enough practice. I’d rather watch him do it.

For the trip this weekend, he had to take a suit. He doesn’t like to wear a suit. But I like to see him wear it. And I like to watch him pack it. He puts together the pieces, taking the coat and then the pants out of the closet. Searching through his collection of ties for the right one to match. Finding his dress shirt and belt. Dress socks come out of the drawer as well as his shoes. I realize his entire wardrobe is different from mine. Men’s clothes are a mystery to me. I’m fascinated by them. And by the man who wears them.

I’ve heard about feminine mystique. But I believe in masculine mystique also.