Green sateen

Although style is subjective, there is no grey area between good and bad taste. No one knows this better than me, and knows it least than my mother.

“Steven, what do you think about this?” says my mother as she opens a Linens ‘n Things flyer in front of me.

“What?” I search the page with my eyes.

“This.” She points to a comforter set, with a black-cream-green stripe pattern in a shiny sateen finish. “I was thinking of getting that for you because I don’t like the one you have on your bed right now.”

“I don’t care if you don’t like my comforter, because I like it,” I say. “And, anyway,” I wave my hand over the photo, “that’s ugly.”

“UGLY?” She’s clearly insulted because I made a negative comment about her taste. For years, she’s been imposing her sartorial selections on me, to no avail. She thinks I should buy clothes three times my size because I shouldn’t show people how thin I am, because thinness is an inverse reflection of prosperity. “That’s your style.”

“No, I don’t like that. THAT,” I point to the page, bending it under the pressure of my index finger, “is ugly.”

“Why do you say it’s ugly?” She puts her hand on her hip.

“First off, it’s sateen. Sateen looks like cheap polyester.” Not to mention that you slide off the bed the moment you sit on it, and it looks like it came off the set of a bad porno movie. “Second, there’s green in it. I don’t like green.”

“There isn’t green.”

“Yes, there is.” I point to the green stripe that repeats every third band.

“That isn’t green,” she says as she leans in closer to the image.

“Right there.” I point to the stripe. “It’s green. And. I. Don’t. Like. It.”

“Ugh,” she huffs. “No wonder you don’t like anything. You’re so picky.”

“I’m not picky. You just don’t have any taste.”

She turns around and walks out of the kitchen while I put the Linens ‘n Things flyer in the recycling bin. There’s no arguing about shades of grey, especially when it’s green sateen.