#1 Son met me at work last night to catch a ride home with me. Along the way, I stopped at Washington Square in search of a tweed jacket. I want one with several colors mixed in the tweed so that on days when I have meetings with “important people” I can throw it over any pair of pants without thinking and call it good. It doesn’t seem like that should be that hard a thing to find. I mean, how can you get more yuppy than a tweed jacket?

True, I didn’t have a long time to look because #1 Son needed to get home to do homework. But in my brief foray through a store or two, no tweed jackets were to be found.

So that the trip wouldn’t be a total waste (I guess), #1 Son started throwing other jackets at me and giving me a critique. “No. I’m not seeing that, mom. Try this one.” “Put your hands in the pockets. Yeah… that’s pretty stylin’, mom.” “Here… try this.”

I ended up with a bright red quilted jacket and a black sweater with 3/4-length sleeves and black lace trim. And while I was paying, #1 Son spotted a cream and red stripped sweater that was perfect, so I grabbed that, too.

I haven’t bought any clothes for a long time. It was fun! And everything was on sale, too. (Even better.) And I’m thinking the red jacket and black sweater are gonna look pretty “stylin’” with a pair of faded jeans for casual Friday today.

I still want a tweed jacket. I’ll be on my own tonight, as #1 son is going to a show with his girlfriend. But there’s got to be tweed out there somewhere, and I think I am competent to tell how it looks on me.