C & The Amazing Three-Button Nineties Suit

The morning after C and I arrive in Florida, we look out the window at cloudy skies, look at each other, and say one word: "Aventura".

A trip to Florida is not a trip to Florida without hitting Aventura Mall. It's our version of vacation crack - if we have not ventured forth into this gleaming biodome of a mega-mall within 48 hours of our arrival, one of us starts twitching uncontrollably while the other is taking down little old grannies for their Big Brown Bags. They just don't make malls like this in New York.

So there we are in Macy's, laden down with purchases and still going strong. My pupils are dilated from a shopping-induced high brought on by the fact that:

A) It's Memorial Day Weekend. And on Memorial Day Weekend, there are sales. Compute.

B) I have arrived at the Bloomingdale's the morning the sale has started. No slim pickings for this biatch. It's mine, aaaallllll mine!

C) I have a member card that gives me an additional 20% off all sale items. BOO-YAAAA!

In the midst of searching for my dad's birthday gift, C waves me over to show me a suit. I follow him into the dressing area and while he's trying on clothes, I'm ferretting through my bags and mentally planning my wardrobe from here until September.

"What do you think?" I look up to see him sporting the aforementioned suit. The pants are great. The jacket, however, is not. It's just not okay, it's more than not okay. It's like a bad acid trip and I'm hurling back through time to Mr. Refkin's Geometry class, Z. Cavaricci pants, and Marky Mark the Calvin Klein Model, not Mark Wahlberg the Actor.

C sees the look on my face. "What?"

Heavy D called and he wants his look back

"No." I failed to remember that a sale in Florida, as opposed to a sale in New York City, are two very different things. If I'm not careful, that jacket could take over and my husband could walk out of here looking like an extra from Beverly Hills, 90210. "I don't like it."

"What's wrong with it?" He gets a defensive look on his face and I see he really likes it. Oh dear. Is it just me or is that a bolero tie sprouting around his neck?

"Come back to 2007, babe. Seriously? That's a three-button suit straight out of the 1990s and it's not a good look."

"I don't care about fashion, I just like what I like." Now I just saw a hoop earring grow through his left ear.

Because Milli will not rest until he has his Vanilli

"C, please." I cringe at the thought of a certain 90's pop group who were the poor cousins of Vanilla Ice. At least Ice wouldn't have been seen sporting that jacket hanging all the way down to his knees - it would have clashed with his Fade. I drop the bomb on C. "You look like a member of Color Me Badd."

C's eyes widen and I realize I've made contact. He pouts a little. "No, I don't."

Fashion police says: Color Me Blind with a no, no, no and a big fat NO (that's you on the right I'm talking to there, Mr. Pirates of Penzance)

Time to bring out the big guns.

"Ooooohhhh, ooo oooo!" I watch his ears turn a little red. "I wanna sex you up! All nighttttt, oh woahhhhh!" What the sales clerk outside must think, but I. Am. Not. Letting. C. Leave. With. That. Suit.

"Stop that." He shrugs off the jacket.

"I wanna sex you up! Woo hoo!" I do a shimmy in the dressing room. "We can do it til we both wake up." What kind of line is that anyway??? I'll keep on shagging you no matter how bored you are, until you wake up dammit! Someone please explain.

C hangs the jacket on the hanger and I can see he's at that fine line between putting back on the bar or taking it with him to the register. He gives me a look. "Oooohhh!" And he hangs the relic from the past back up.

Never underestimate the power of Color Me Badd when settling a fashion dispute.