He Called it "Kicky"

Heading out the door this morning, my husband kisses me and murmurs "isn't that a kicky outfit". This brings me up short. My husband and I have an agreement. If I am experiencing a wardrobe malfunction, I have something in my teeth, or anything seems awry once I've left the house, he discreetly informs me. I do the same for him. Other than that, we generally do not comment on one another's wardrobe decisions. We are both fairly conservative dressers, so we know what to expect from each other when we leave the house.
"Kicky? Kicky? What exactly does Kicky mean?"
"it's interesting"
"what is interesting about this outfit?"
Now I had already determined for my own damn self that my outfit was different for me.



Little gray cable-knit dress, striped tights and Mary janes. I know this reference is incestuous when applied to my husband and I, but he is the Alex P. Keaton to my Mallory. He is republican to the core and is singlehandedly bringing back the sweater vest. I wanted to know what his issue was with my Kicky outfit. After hemming and hawing, he revealed his distaste for my tights. I tried on two different pairs of boots and different flats, but the tights were the deal breaker for him. Let's take a closer look, shall we?



Fortunately for him, he has not looked in my sock drawer lately. It would send shivers down his spine. I have been stockpiling tights in every imaginable pattern and color for this fall/winter season. I hope he is comfortable with his new term, because he will be using it a lot.
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