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Suburban Chicago, June 1975. Dad and his beloved Gigi visit my childhood bedroom. I was surprised to see Dad dressed this way. He had elegant taste, and he usually wore beautiful clothing. I don't know what happened here, but these style choices rattle my understanding of "stay-at-home" clothes.
On the top shelf rests a copy of National Geographic's dog book, Man's Best Friend. There also sits Watership Down (I didn't like that book—perhaps because I prefer nonfiction, and I don't care for fiction that is fantasy based) and The Gulag Archipelago. The books on the bottom shelf reflect an interest I had, at that time, in poetry.
3 comments:
I take it he didn't golf.
Then again, they didn't call the 70s "The Decade That Taste Forgot" for nothing.
Dad definitely was not a golfer (he agreed with Mark Twain).
So does The Blonde.
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