Standards of sartorial splendor in my family are sorely lacking, at least from my 4-year-old daughter’s point of view. Maggie would like to see us dress “fancy,” to use the word she got from the popular girls books, “Fancy Nancy.”
If you’re not familiar with it, the protagonist is an elementary-age girl who relishes lavish clothes and words. “Sartorial splendor” would be right up Nancy’s alley.
But her family — mom, dad and younger sister — are too plain for her liking. Many adventures ensue from that premise, which admittedly fits our family pretty well. Thus Maggie’s fondness for the series is to be expected.
You can imagine then that the occasion of Maggie attending her first wedding — of a cousin in Mobile, Ala., Saturday — was an event of considerable expectation. It proved the perfect opportunity for us to put on the dog.
When Maggie saw me tying a tie to complete my suit, she said, “Daddy, you look like a gentleman.”
I’d never had anyone tell me that before. Felt kind of good.
But I’m not sure I’ll be able to consistently live up to that appellation in attire or conduct. My grandfathers have both donned suits to church every Sunday for their entire lives, while my dad has worn blue jeans. I’ve settled in the middle with khakis, identical to what I wear to work during the week.
Before I was married I was known for wrinkly dress shirts and mismatched colors; any gains I’ve made in that area since then can be completely attributed to my wife, not any dawning of a sense of personal style of my own; any times I’ve fallen back into the old bachelor pattern are on me.
And speaking of my wife, Maggie told her that she was excited to see her wearing something other than “crummy T-shirts.” Don’t think that one was really fair, but it made us laugh.
As for herself, Maggie first requested to wear a white dress to the wedding, unaware of the taboo associated with trying to steal the bride’s thunder. It was understandable; in all the movies she sees white dresses at weddings and just thought that was the pattern of expected conduct.
But she was content with her black dress, although the wedding ceremony itself proved to be a little over a preschooler’s head. She later described it over the phone to her grandmother as a “boring meeting” at a church. Many men, dragged by their wives to nuptial ceremonies over the years, can commiserate.
But Maggie enjoyed the reception. It was at an antebellum mansion with big, white columns in the front and a spiral staircase inside. Simply put, it was fancy.
We dined sumptuously, and Maggie regaled family members with tales of her own imagination (you see how I’m working in some fancy words into this column).
I thought we had finally lived up to Maggie’s expectations, but on the way home she gave her thoughts on how we could improve in the future: Perhaps I should try a top hat, she suggested.
That, indeed, would be the mark of a true gentleman.
Charlie Smith is editor and publisher of The Columbian-Progress. Reach him at csmith@columbianprogress.com or (601) 736-2611.
