I don’t know whether it is coincidence, or fate, or that I just happened to see the connections that at other times I am completely oblivious to, but on Friday, I completely saw the connection.
Earlier in the day, my students and I were discussing the phenomenon of couples dressing similarly or identically. I had explained that I had seen a group of people in Taiwan where all the couples were wearing the same clothes. Someone told me that was a honeymoon custom. My Korean students said that wearing identical clothes for couples was “old fashioned” but that some couples wear “similar clothes” to show they were a couple. I let the student continue on with the discussion as I monitored. Little did I know that the theme of this discussion would later appear in my universe.
The weather has grown cooler in Toronto and the GTA (Greater Toronto Area) and I was wearing my 2010 Vancouver Olympics hoodie. It was a gift from my father. I am not 100% sure, but I think it was a Christmas gift because I seem to remember several of the men in the family with the same shirt–my father shops in sets, meaning that family members usually sport the pair look my students decried as old fashioned. We’ve all got the same toques, sweatshirts, hoodies, scarves, and T-shirts.
As I said, I was wearing my hoodie. It is black with CANADA proudly emblazoned on the front. When my students first saw it, they asked me if I attended the Winter Olympic Games. I decided to lie and told them that I was on Canada’s Olympic team and that I wore this during the opening ceremonies.–a few of them believed me until I explained that my event was axe-throwing and that I was disqualified for hitting the referee.
After work, I entered the subway and saw a woman wearing the same hoodie, only hers was in red. I mused out loud that woman had good taste in clothes. She was reading a book and didn’t register my comment at first. A few seconds later, she looked up and asked me what I said. We had a short chat and she said something rather interesting about people not starting conversations on the subway anymore, or talking to strangers. I suppose this is true, but some people, like my mother, (and myself to some extent) seem to do that a lot. I suppose the custom has not died out completely. In fact, I had a conversation with a man at the bus stop earlier in the morning. He was a landscaper headed to the repair shop to pick up his truck.
I should also note that both of our hoodies looked quite good despite being ten years old.
Ah Universe, I don’t always see the narrative, but I eventually get the picture.