All Dressed up and Nowhere to Go

It was an interesting parental moment last Friday night.  We wanted to take the kids out for some culture to see The Death of Edgar Allen Poe (which I wrote about here) and I bet you can imagine the scene: The theater was across town and the play was to begin in 30 minutes but yet we were still eating dinner, the kitchen was a mess, the kids had been playing outside and looked like they'd been hit by a tornado and no one was even thinking about getting ready.  I cracked the whip and we all jumped in to help get things put together but when I said those fateful words: "Now go upstairs and get ready" I was met with a panic.

"You mean we have to dress up??"

"Uh, yea. Go get ready."

"I don't want to wear church clothes! Why do we have to dress up?"

"Because that's what people do when they go out to a play, they dress up. And it's what you're going to do. Go get ready."

"That's not fair!" (because this argument has been such a winner in the past)

"Look, you don't have to wear ties, just put on some decent pants and a decent shirt. No big deal."

"CHURCH PANTS??"

"Yes, your church pants--they're khakis so they'll work. Go get them on."

I must have told them to get dressed 15 times before it sank in that I was not going to budge on this. My inward logic that if I wasn't asking them to wear a tie, then it couldn't be a big deal didn't seem to help much.  Apparently it was all in the image.  Jeans may not be that much different from khakis when it comes to comfort but there's a huge line between them when it comes to "cool."

By the time we were in the car and moving I had one child who had done what I'd asked and was fairly presentable (though with a rainbow of mismatched colors only an 8 year-old or a bag lady could get away with), one who had quickly admitted defeat, capitulated to the requirements and was dressed--more or less--appropriately.  And then there was one (who shall remain nameless) who was so ticked at my rules that he/she wouldn't look or speak the whole trip and spent most of the time staring sullenly at the floor.  It must have took amazing stamina to be that mad for that long--I've got to hand it to him/her.

But what really set the kid off was when we got to the theater and he/she found that not only were they the only ones whose demon mother had made them wear khakis, people for rows around were seated in the most comfortable and pleasurable denim.  We were the only ones dressed up . . . unless you count the guy wearing the giant rat costume who was there for the after-play trick or treating in the lobby.  It did leave me wondering where one would find a six-foot rodent suit. . . .

Of course the argument that "Everyone else is wearing jeans so why can't we?" has never worked in the past because I gave up caring what the world thinks in . . . uh . . . about 8th grade but what hit me, once again, was my disappointment at my fellow theater-goers.  Doesn't anyone dress up any more?  Afterward I asked Andrew if there are any events left where it is universally accepted that one dresses up.  I've been to the opera, the symphony, the theater and in Anchorage you're guaranteed to see more people in jeans than you'll see in suits (let alone tuxedos). I've been to funerals, to weddings, to church meetings and again--the jeans are there in abundance.  I tried to come up with an event where everyone would agree that dressing up was an absolute must . . . the prom? The Oscars? But was left with a big blank.  Maybe a state dinner? Do you think anyone shows up to the Obamas' place in jeans?

When did we get to the point that pajamas were acceptable at the grocery store? Or that jeans were proper attire for church? I know we left off dressing up for things like air travel and shopping excursions and I'm not one to moan about the demise of bustles and corsets but surely there was a line there . . . somewhere . . . and we've crossed it.

But why does it matter? Why should we even care, you say? Well I suppose on one level it doesn't matter because truly, there is the fact that you cannot judge another human being by the clothes they wear but then there is the other equally true fact that clothes are a reflection of what is inside--that while they may not make the man they most certainly reflect him--or, at least, what he wants us to think of him.  And fairly accurately, too.

We choose our clothing because of our own unique tastes, size and bank accounts and to deny that clothing is irrelevant is blindly foolish and unrealistic.  You bet clothes reflect what's inside--why else do teenagers spend so much time and money agonizing over what to wear each day? Because, to them, their clothing is a personification of their status and personality and, frankly, I can't disagree.  The girl who wears clothing that doesn't cover her, the boy who is a billboard for his favorite sports team, the woman with the $400 designer jeans, the hipster who scours the vintage thrift stores or the middle aged retiree buying flannel shirts in bulk at Costco are all saying something with their clothing choices so why have we decided to say, collectively as a society, that it is no longer important to put on our best?

My own personal guess?  I think it's all a shift in attitudes--it's not cool any more to let someone think that they are so important, that they mean so much, for you to put out the extra effort to impress them with your appearance.  Why do you dress up for a job interview? Because you want them to see that you're serious, that you take the whole process seriously and can have a professional attitude.  Why do you dress down? Because your comfort is more important.

I looked at the situation Friday night: here we had a local theater company that had gone to so much effort to put on a quality production.  They'd spent hours and hours rehearsing, had built up excitement for the play, had done everything to heighten the audience's experience. They had done their best to make their own small contribution to the arts in Anchorage so is it too odd to expect the audience to put forth the tiny effort to dress differently than they do for standing in line at the supermarket or raking the yard?  If the experience is truly to be something special, shouldn't the audience dress to that expectation? Don't they at least have that responsibility?

People just don't realize that when they dress sloppily or too casually--whether it's for a play or a wedding or a sermon or a date--that they are saying, "This event just wasn't important enough for me to care about my appearance or what you think of me" and that's served to diminish all sorts of experiences that should be special.  Watch television in your pajamas in the privacy of your own home but when you're out and about try to break out of the mold once or twice and see if it doesn't make all the difference.

Maybe if we dressed up for life we'd find ourselves enjoying all sorts of things we never thought about before.