Is casual Friday really over?

Normally I do not follow fashion with anything other than a mild curiosity.  New England bred, I would choose to be over-dressed rather than under, but I now live in the Northwest.  With ten months of precipitation and a practical populace, we have limits.  Come here in the summer and - except for the Birkenstocks with socks - we look like everyone else.  Our hair is nicely coiffed, we are wearing silk and other wrinkle free fabrics and red nail polish abounds.

Or maybe that is the tourists.

After I get my Bloomingdale's catalogue (I have not completely adjusted), I often go into my closet and find something in the back that could be the height of style.  Perhaps the lapel is just a mite too wide or the hem a bit too short, but in a pinch?  No one here would spend a micro-second judging my appearance.  I swear it's true!

Northwesterners are the most tolerant slice of humanity on the planet.  After all, the guy who shows up at the hardware store in overalls with boots reeking of cow manure might own 400 acres that just got re-zoned commercial.  And I might be his wife.

At first it was a hard adjustment, as truthfully?  Except for the young and/or girdled, I find levis to be the most unflattering garb to ever cover a woman's posterior with one exception.  Sweats.  Of course, we women have enough body issues without my two cents, but 'Casual Friday' cannot die too soon a death for me.   I understand the rubber-soled flats and waterproof hiking boots, but too many people don't know what 'casual' in the office excludes.

On the other hand, I think everybody should wear comfortable, washable clothes whenever possible.  This is mainly for the planet, of course, as we need to avoid  those dry-cleaning chemicals.  More importantly, however, it's critical for psychological health, as I assume everyone (but my nephew Emilio and sister-in-law Carmen) hates ironing as much as I do.

Of course, it took some time for me to decide to give Goodwill and the ACS Thrift Shop my favorite black, pinstriped or grey suits along with several bags of perfectly good clothes.  Why?  I am not saving string and leftover Saran wrap yet, but my daughter had shamed me. 

"Mom, if you haven't worn it in a year, give it away or throw it out."

I admit they were terribly inappropriate for this climate, but great for anyone wearing an ankle-bracelet while confined to her home.  Besides, they were my favorites once upon a time.  Who doesn't long for the return of shoulder pads?  Or skinny pattern-matching belts?  Or pant waists that cover one's belly button and keep that adorable plumber's crack hidden from view? 

My all-time favorite set of pants, though, I bought before we moved to Mexico City.  Sorry, but I cannot part with them.  They are white with a hidden sort of pocket slit from below the hip almost down to the ankle.  They used to fit like a glove and were incredibly flattering, but when I had to bend down to pick up my toddler, the pockets opened and I managed not to split them up the back.   I admit my toddler is now 26, but there is some hidden satisfaction when I look at the old pictures and know those pants are still in my closet. 

Okay, so if anyone asks, I will tell them I saved them because I am having another pair made.  All I need to do is find a seamstress who 'gets' it or wait for my daughter to bring back the sewing machine she borrowed five years ago. 

Admittedly what started all my reverie was a New York Times article I read this morning.  It seems the poor economy and resulting competition for jobs has become so keen, it is forcing us all back into those dreary suits.  As usual, I decided to rebel and encourage you to do the same.  The last thing we need during these dark days is to spend thousands on good suits in black, grey and navy blue when we are trying to pay our health insurance premiums, fill the gas tank and still be able to feed the cat. 

I say let's wear those yellows, reds, oranges and even purples in our closet and see if we can't lift the national mood.  Better days are coming.  We might as well prepare.