Expressway: My husband the metrosexual
Barbara Gerbasi and her husband, Nick Gerbasi, of Manhasset. Credit: Handout
My husband blew in from a windy round of golf at North Hills Country Club last winter looking as ruddy-cheeked as Santa.
"Would you have any moisturizer?" Nick asked.
Does Poland Spring have water? It was only a matter of which lotion to choose. I quickly produced one and mentioned that many cosmetic companies now offer skin-care lines for men. Always at the ready for any excuse to go cruise the stores on Northern Boulevard in Manhasset, I offered to pick up some. By then glued to whatever sporting event was on TV, he just nodded.
Later I left a tube of facial moisturizer on the bathroom counter and, because I couldn't resist and thought he would use it, a tube of eye cream.
He thanked me and then in a gruff voice asked, "What's this eye stuff?"
I assured him it was good and would help with puffiness and under-eye circles. He appeared a bit taken aback. I heard no more about these additions to his grooming routine until a couple of months later, when he asked for replacements.
Can a man on the far side of 60 and a certified public accountant be labeled a metrosexual? The word has gained popularity in the past few years, but I must admit I was a bit vague as to its meaning until I Googled it.
Most definitions say that the word refers to a young, straight, urban man who is concerned about his appearance and enjoys the art of decorating and sophisticated living.
Our 7-year-old granddaughter, who has never heard that term, once described her grandfather as neat and tidy. When asked what that meant, she said, "You know. He wears shirts with collars in all really pretty colors, his hair is never messy and he always smells good."
She's right. Her grandfather is always well-groomed, but it's more than that. You'll never catch him in shorts and a T-shirt unless he's gardening. His closet is more full and colorful than mine, and he spends considerable time picking out the perfect tie. His shoes are always polished, and you'll never see him in need of a shave.
Yes, grooming and clothing are priorities, but he does have his limits. While some men his age may resort to dying their hair or may dye or wax their chest hair in lieu of decorating it with gold chains, such things are not for him. He has comfortably settled for a full head of white hair, and his only jewelry is a watch and his wedding ring. Still I do envision a future when his collection of skin-care products may rival mine.
Not yet have I been left to decorate any living space on my own without significant input and a lot of arguing from him. And although I may carry on about them initially, his choices, in general, are successful. I'm thankful that he nixed my choice of a vividly colored modern painting for our subdued and traditional dining room.
He knows his way around the kitchen, too, and has a full repertoire of dishes that he enjoys making, including Italian specialties. My favorite definition of a metrosexual says that this person also makes great cocktails. No doubt about that. Nick makes the perfect martini, and his daughters would testify that he also whips up a powerful cosmo.
So call him neat and tidy or metrosexual. Either way I'm glad he's mine and I'll drink to that.
Reader Barbara Gerbasi lives in Manhasset.
