Prête à snorter

The university gives its new hires a special brochure for their spouses with Ph.D's. The brochure bears the euphemistic title, "For Faculty in Transition." I wonder if this means I will have to join some sort of 12-step program.

Step One: A manic Professor of “fashion technologies” has invited me to join a three-person "Fashion Think Tank." We’ll plot a cultural studies-oriented fashion minor, beg grants from Vogue and Vanity Fair, and look damn good doing it, I suppose.

Upon hearing of my new job in the “Think Tank,” my husband blurts, “Have they seen the way you dress?” (Uh, no.) Apparently, my pink fleece turtleneck is “so 1988.”

Is the honeymoon over when a husband, who previously said only nice things about his wife's appearance, suddenly admits she's a fashion emergency? And what kind of person mocks a turtleneck when it’s 3 degrees outside?

Hmmm… He will regret his incredulousness. I’m going to climb into my tank and think pink turtlenecks pink turtlenecks pink turtlenecks. For men.