The trip to the optician’s showroom was certain to resuscitate the battle of the sexes. It was time to pick out new eyeglasses, so I invited my spouse, the arbiter of good taste and fashion in our household, to come along.
I knew this could be contentious. Usually, there’s a debate during household decisions. Who is in charge – Himself, the former sports editor, or Herself, the retired metro editor? That question has lingered for 40 years.
But in decisions of fashion and style, I defer to Mary. I admit I have no sense of fashion, a notion she cemented 40 years ago after our wedding when she jettisoned all my polyester slacks. Geez, you hung them up and the wrinkles disappeared. But Mary reminded me they represented the difference between fiberboard and hardwoods.
Those considerations brought us to the optician’s wall of display cases. The economy frames were on the left; higher-priced designer apparel on the right. As a guy who doesn’t like spending money on himself, this polyester alumnus, headed left. Mary looked right.
This moment embodied our different approaches and the ages-old clash between men and women. We are two different animals. Simply put, men buy, women shop.
In a study of 2,000 U.K. shoppers, British psychologist Steve Taylor reported that men become bored after 26 minutes while women lasted 2 hours.
“The survey found that 80 percent of men didn’t like shopping with their partners and that 45 percent avoided doing so at all costs,’’ Taylor wrote in Psychology Today. “Almost half of all spousal shopping trips ended in arguments, with men becoming frustrated because they bought what they needed straight away, while their partners were still looking and taking too long to make decisions.’’
Credit card companies estimate that that women are directly or indirectly responsible for almost 80 percent of consumer spending in the United States. They do most of the grocery and retail shopping. Women are more likely to do comparative shopping; men are more likely to settle for the first thing that fits their needs.
The eyewear industry understands this. Opticians are tapping a $180 billion market that is estimated to grow within five years to $300 billion. I was there to buy; Mary was there to direct.
I didn’t want to make a purchase that I’d regret in two weeks. I had a firm idea of what I didn’t want. On NBC’s “Today’’ show, Al Roker switches glasses as often as the weather changes. One day, he sports black frames, the next day blue. Some days, he looks like an aging Mars Blackmon (filmmaker Spike Lee). And there was little chance I’d ever don anything similar to Elton John.
I didn’t want thick, black frames that a celebrity like Dan Levy (Schitt’s Creek) might wear. They reminded of the nerdy, rubberized, black sports glasses I wore in junior high, the result of breaking too many pairs of conventional eyeglasses.
“Do you want transition lenses?’’ the optician asked.
I couldn’t blurt out “no’’ fast enough.
I still recall, after 40 years, the image of the oblivious sports layout editor in suburban Cleveland who had misplaced his glasses. He wore his prescription sunglasses to work one night. When my pal Leo walked into the newsroom, he took one look at the guy toiling under the fluorescent lights and proclaimed, “It looked like Ray Charles trying to lay out a newspaper.’’
I was searching for a retro Fran Holleran/Malcolm X look – glasses with a strong browline – but my arbiter of taste overruled that.
“How about these?’’ she offered, holding up a pair of bright blue frames. They reminded me of every 90-year-old spinster I had ever met.
“These will offset your hair,’’ Mary continued.
“You mean my silver hair?’’
“Try white. Snow White.’’
I found frames for round glasses.
“You look like an aging Harry Potter.’’
She pulled out a pair with a brown and gold pattern that mimicked her sunglasses.
“No way, I don’t want to look like the Bobbsey Twins.’’
I suggested a rimless style.
“Nope, your face needs color because of your hair.’’
“Oh, the silver thing.’’
“Reality check — white.’’
There is no winning. For me, only whining.
We finally settled on larger glasses with a dark frame at the top and a clear look at the bottom, and learned they’d be ready in two weeks.
“Great,’’ said Mary. “Let’s go find you some new sneakers!’’
I decided to fake temporary blindness. An easier sell would have been temporary insanity.
Morristown native Jim Holleran is a retired teacher and sports editor from Rochester. Reach him at jimholleran29@gmail.com or view past columns under “Reflections of River Rat’’ at https://hollerangetsitwrite.com/blog/
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