Accessories a hint to our personal styles

It’s all in the details.

When my children tease me about my love of frou-frou, “girly” things like a pretty purse, high-heeled shoes, or a long rope of faux pearls, I just shrug. Then I quote Clairee Belcher, one of the memorable characters from the play and movie “Steel Magnolias.”

“The only thing that separates us from the animals is our ability to accessorize,” I say as I fasten my earrings or pull another pair of shoes out of the closet.

And I can prove my point.

I had lunch the other afternoon in a little cafe.

It was a cold day so I had bundled up before I left the office.

After I finished my bowl of soup I took my coat from the back of my chair and slipped it on. Then I iced the cake, so to speak, by wrapping one of my favorite wide, whisper-soft, scarves around my neck. It was a deep purple, the color of violets.

I looped it and tied it so that the one of the long ends draped over my shoulder and the other peeked out of my coat. Then I pulled a pair of soft leather gloves, dyed a lighter shade of purple, onto my hands.

I flipped my hair over my collar, slipped my favorite purse on my arm, and turned to go.

That’s when I noticed the man standing beside me. He too had finished his lunch and was getting ready to go back out into the cold. Like me, he slipped his coat on. He didn’t have a shawl or gloves, but hanging from his belt, in its own little leather case, was an iPod.

The ultimate accessory.

The man pulled the distinctive white earphones out of his pocket, and, after stretching the cord to remove any tangles, carefully placed the buds in his ears.

He checked the leather case threaded onto his belt one more time, fiddled with the thing for a minute and buttoned his coat.

Then, a little self-consciously, he adjusted his collar and pulled out a bit more of the cord connecting the music player to the tiny speakers in his ears and draped it down the front of his coat.

Exactly the way I had done my purple shawl.

There we were, strangers, standing side by side in the little cafe, accessorizing.

I hid my grin in the soft wool around my neck.

I suspect the man in the cafe wouldn’t waste a minute choosing the perfect scarf before he left home in the morning. He probably wouldn’t care if his gloves, if he wore gloves at all, matched that scarf.

But what made me smile was the fact that he spent as much time getting his musical jewelry adjusted as I did my frippery.

Neither one of us was stepping out the door until we could do it in a certain style. To his credit, at least his “plumage” made music. Mine was totally superficial.

I have no idea where the man was off to, but as we walked out of the coffee shop and I strolled back to work, I was sure of one thing: Our position in the animal kingdom was secure.