Being quite particular about what I’m willing to have next to my skin for hours at a time, I can understand other people being the same way when it comes to choice of clothes.
One of my earliest memories is kicking my mom when she was trying to shove patin leather shoes onto my growing feet. Not only were the dang things too tight, they had slick soles which had all-too-often caused me to slip on the gray stone steps of the church building on Jefferson Street.
And the dress! there was what might be called a lovely ruffle bow, but the knot hit an exact spot on my back where I had to lean against the hard wood pew. Comfortable was not how I would describe that outfit. But I did look cute in the picture.
I’ve gotten even more set in my ways as I get older. A few years ago, I told a well-intentioned woman that I would not be attending an evening’s fancy event because I didn’t want to have to wear a dress and pantyhose, yet I would still be able to smile in the mirror in the morning.
And last year, my mother had much to say about me wearing slacks to my nephew’s wedding. Overlooking the fact that I had driven 500 miles to be there, and my rank on the Important People List might have been as high as #17.
The other day I was reading an article about survivors of the tsunami in Japan. They haven’t had a hot shower nor even a clean t-shirt since the disaster. I’m sure a dress and pantyhose is a distant memory.
Three times in a week, I’ve had conversations about clothes.
My first was with a mom, who is gently paving the plan for her 8 year-old daughter to wear a dress to church for Easter. The more time I have with the child, I have become aware that she could be a mini-me in the comfortable clothing department. She likes her pants and athletic shoes.
As a mom, I can side with my friend, but a little part of me is cheering on smart girlie.
We shall see what the morning brings.
My son Lucas wore sweatpants through all of Second Grade. First time I saw him in denim blue jeans was when he came home on a weekend from college.
Next discussion was with my Husband. Now, he is just as adamant about his choice of clothes as I am. He buys pants and socks a dozen pair at a time, and worries about the next time he might have to place an order.
Well, we were scrambling through WallyWorld, but a nice-looking shirt caught my eye. I stopped to study it. 100% cotton was good, and the pockets are the style he likes. He had halted alongside me, and was waiting impatiently.
He said the pinstripe would not do. He likes solid colors. I told him that my eyes couldn’t see the stripes from 6 feet away, and the cotton cloth feels nice.
He walked away towards the dairy case… end of shirt possibility.
Later in the car, he said that style of shirt has sleeves way too short, and he likes to be able to button the cuffs yet still move around.
Sigh. I’ll keep looking and hoping. Although I’m not sure how many more times I can iron his old shirts to keep them looking fine enough for the office.
Latest discussion was with a friend at church, who I gave a compliment about how nicely put together she looked. Her Facebook status told the tale of an adventurous week.
She mentioned that her skirt came from the thrift store, and she does feel better in a skirt and top rather than a whole dress.
I have not been able to find a skirt in a blend of fabric I like, nor adequately hide my hips.
I own 8 pairs of the same style of pants (2 have stains) and perhaps should check at Penney to see if there are any available.
Well, anyway. Clothes is a subject in my mind right now.
Easter finery, and a banquet/reunion in May.
And I haven’t a thing to wear.
~~love and Huggs, Diane
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