My Mom likes to call shirts that are longer in the back and shorter in the front “mullet shirts” likening them to the never attractive and once popular haircut that swept the nation in the 80s, especially with rock bands. (Although Miley Cyrus seems to think it’s still a thing.) Needless to say, The Mothership is not a fan of the look. I’d have to agree with Mom for X in the center square on this one. (Old Hollywood Squares reference that I say often and always makes me smile! Pic courtesy of Wikipedia.) Then there are “mullet dresses” that have that something’s missing from the front of my dress appeal. Again, not a great look. Like you couldn’t afford the whole dress? It’s a consistent pass.
Sock lengths have always amused me. Older folks tend to hike their socks up as high as possible and pair them with black sneakers. (Why??) Is this some sort of closer to God thing with the octogenarians of which I’m unaware? Do they teach that at assisted living facilities? I once had a blind date with a guy named Harlin who (I swear this is true) showed up at my door with striped sweat socks with the rainbow rings at the calf pulled waaaay up– almost to his knees, a Florida Marlins t-shirt and a mullet. This was the early 90s, but that look was never fashionable off the soccer field and Harlin the Marlin was booted before you could have screamed Paul Lynde!
When my son Matty was a baby, his Father always called him “Big Boy” and through Matty’s early years my nickname for him was “Shorty.” Now that he towers over his Father (little victories every day) I can barely remember being shorter than Shorty. I never expected my son to be a giant. My Baby Daddy has somewhat of the fire hydrant build– he is as tall as he is wide. (Not my words, stolen years ago from an old friend but still fitting.) I guess I had a thing for shorter, stockier men when I was younger because a few hydrants have dotted my colorful dating past.
Now that I’m older (and smarter), my height preference has risen as high as those octogenarians’ socks! My beau Michael is an impressive 6’7″ and nowhere close to fire hydrant territory. He has no problem reaching the highest shelves in any store, changing the batteries of the fire alarm without a step stool or helping me stack boxes at the very top of my closet. And he’s as wonderful as he is tall– stunningly!
My preference is still a short stack of pancakes and drinks served in highball glasses. So for me, height only matters in certain cases. I guess the long and short of it is that height obviously has nothing to do with how you get along with someone— but for haircut lengths and sock heights, I’m sticking with hydrants over octos for both.
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