Volume 1 Issue 5 June 17, 2007Â



Someone once pointed out just how ridiculous it is when people say “It’s always in the last place you look†, because so few of us find it and then keep looking. By default, everything you look for should be in the last place you look.Â

Unless, of course, you are a woman, looking for a dress, shoes, suit, etc.Â

Women shop differently than men do. A woman will try on a (fill in the blank with dress, shoes or suit) and find that it is the perfect colour, style and fit. The price will be extremely reasonable. The man, who has been relegated to the role of standing outside the dressing room holding her purse, is now reaching for his wallet, getting ready to fulfill his third shopping function (holding her purse and telling her how wonderful she looks in the item to be purchased being the other two) when the woman tells him that she has no intention to buy it at this precise moment. The man is puzzled. Why would you not buy something that is the perfect size, fit, colour and price? Because, of course, there may be something that is even more perfect in another store.Â

In contrast, I (and I am a guy) shop much differently. I walk into a store and find a pair of pants that I like. They fit well, and they are comfortable. I then proceed to buy the same pants in all of the available colours that I like. I firmly believe that, as long as I am buying the exact same style, the blue ones will fit exactly the same way as the black ones and the beige ones. Having found pants that I like, I feel no need to try on all of the available colours to see if the dye lot somehow, mysteriously, will make them fit differently. Once I have found what I want, I stop looking and start buying.Â

I think that this difference, at least as men age, is because we no longer really think about whether or not someone is going to give a second thought to whether or not  we look good in what we wear. Women, right up to the day they die, want to look as good as they can. Guys, as they get older, wear clothes to cover up their bodies in an effort to avoid ridicule and criminal charges.Â

This week I went to the optometrist’s office to buy reading glasses. I wanted a cheap pair of frames, so that I could, oh, read things. I mean, they’re reading glasses, for Heaven’s sake. The perky young lady wanted to know what style of frames I wanted. I told her I wanted cheap ones and she, somewhat aghast, wanted to know what kind of look I wanted. I told her that I wanted to look like I could read without squinting. She finally convinced me to try on a pair of frames. They looked like they would hold a set of lenses. The fit on my face. They didn’t pinch my nose, or squeeze the sides of my head. They didn’t pull uncomfortably on my ears. And they were cheap. In short, they were perfect, and I told her so. I pulled out my wallet.Â

So, what did she do? She asked me to try on another pair. To see if they were more perfect.