My boyfriend has more clothes than any woman I know. He has a huge, 20-foot-long closet that houses an incredible array of finery in every hue. It takes him an amazingly long time to get ready to go to a party.

"Should I wear this shirt with these pants?" "Do these shoes go with this outfit?" "This tie or this tie?" "Which hat look best?"

It's a baffling site to behold. Especially since he's a big, burly, bearded dude.

To be fair, my point of view is flavored by the fact that I have maybe three things in my wardrobe that are suitable for anything other than doing yardwork. I am a tomboy, and proud of it.

So, this is me in the aforementioned closet. I'm illuminated by one of its two resident skylights and the window on the end wall, and reflected in one of the five lamps that line the entrance to the left vault of The Master's boudoir.