The great American pastime

I went shopping today, which is very unusual for me. I don't mean grocery shopping, which I do about every other day. I mean clothes shopping.

As those of you who know me know, I've always hated to shop. It's always seemed like such a waste of my precious time, and I've never been rich enough to shop with anything approaching abandon. I have to think about each purchase, being as practical as I can be. First of all, is it something I can afford? (Since this is always question #1, I am always attracted to the end-of-season reduced racks, where prices have been slashed to what the items are actually worth). Then, if it's a skirt do I have at least one and preferably two tops I can wear with it? If it's a blouse do I have at least one skirt I can wear with it? Is it something I can wear to work?

Even before I do these mental calculations there are other things I have to consider. For example, when buying outer clothing, the first consideration is color. I don't even look at things that are beige, brown, rust-colored, orange, yellow, grey, greyed-down shades of blue or green (also known as teal blue and teal green), navy or -- usually -- black, because those colors do not look good on me. Second, I consider the fabric. A kicky little summer dress made out of polyester is ridiculous, because polyester is hot; likewise I can no longer wear knitted tops because they cling and my "top" (more accurately my mid-section) no longer takes kindly to clinging. Then, style. Do I like the look of the thing? These days the answer is frequently no, as I find most of the styles hanging on the racks ugly, sometimes in the extreme. Admittedly we've at least gotten away from padded shoulders, a fashion that I loathed, and which seemed to last forever, the way long, baggy shorts for boys and young men have.

And finally...does it fit? And not only fit, but look good on me? Both questions are answered in the fitting room, where one is forced to avert ones eyes at the sight of ones soft, aging, semi-nude body, while experimenting with various fashions, some of which (in former shopping expeditions) wouldn't even close at the waist.

You can see why I consider shopping more ordeal than fun. But I decided to put myself through this ordeal today because we really do seem to be in the midst of The Endless Summer, and I am sick to death of wearing the same six skirts, five tops, in various combinations. I lost the use of three old standby skirts this summer, due to the ever increasing waistline (I have gained 30 pounds in the past five years, ten of those pounds in the past year). I have more blouses, but they are not cool enough for the inferno that is my library. On top of which, I figured since this was the end of the season, there would be some good bargains to be had.

So I went to good ol' Kohl's, the closest thing to a department store in the Augusta area (it appalls me that the state capital has a K-Mart, a Wal-Mart and a Target, but no proper department store. You have to drive 50 minutes to Portland, or an hour and a quarter to Bangor, to find department stores, buried in malls.) And I helped the economies of China (a skirt, two blouses), Indonesia (a pair of shorts, since the one and only pair I still fit into -- thanks to the elastic waistband -- are starting to wear out), Vietnam (3 pair underpants) and Thailand (another pair of underpants). I will admit the fact that not a single item was made in the U.S. makes me uneasy, but here's the real killer. Supposedly American businesses have things manufactured overseas in order to keep them cheap. But a simple little cotton blouse was originally $40 (I got it for $16, which is what I would say it was worth); my pair of shorts were also originally $40 (I got them for 12). So what I'm wondering is, where are the cheap prices, that come from sending everything overseas to be put together? And my god, what must they charge for shorts at Neiman Marcus?

Well, at least I should be cool, while looking fetchingly different, this coming week

In preparation for the future

I just returned from several days spent in upstate New York. I went with two purposes in mind. One was to watch the son of one of my college roommates graduate (as salutatorian) from high school. I've mentioned this delightful family before (see Note of June 8, 2009); it's always a great pleasure to spend time with them, and Bryan is a very nice, smart, funny kid, so I felt inclined to witness this rite of passage of his.

There were a couple of noteworthy things about the graduation ceremony, as far as I was concerned. One was the row of kids sitting right in back of us who were determined to make as much noise as they possibly could, every time anyone they knew crossed to get his/her diploma. I couldn't help wondering why there were no adults with them, why no adults from the school made any attempt to calm them down. Eventually I turned around and said, "Guys, let's hold it down a little," because I dislike the adult abdication-of-responsibility thing. One of the kids actually said, "Sorry," and they were a tiny bit less obnoxious over the next few names called.

The other thing I noticed was the obviously casual dress of many of the graduating students, underneath their graduation robes. A lot of the girls wore flip-flops -- a phenomenon I'd also noticed at the college graduation of my goddaughter last year -- although a decent number wore heals. But what I found really appalling were all the boys with bare legs showing beneath their robes -- evidence that they were wearing shorts -- with big clunky shoes or sneakers worn without socks to finish off the look. Good grief. Why on earth didn't their parents insist that they wear slacks, shoes and socks?

Quite possibly because they didn't think it was important. People so rarely dress up for anything anymore, even going to church. Maybe wearing shorts on a hot summer's day seemed practical to those parents...but note that the event took place in a very air-conditioned "Events Center" at Binghamton University. And come on, if graduating is such a special occasion, doesn't it deserves a little something special in attire?

My friend Clifford occasionally bewails the (as he sees it) complete moral deterioration of the country. I'm not sure I can concur with that, but I myself am dismayed by the national deterioration in dress standards. I miss seeing people look nice. I deeply regret that people no longer seem to think "looking nice" matters. All that's important is being comfortable, which all too often translates into looking like a slob. And if you're young it's important to look like your peers, so you all look like slobs, or tacky (the slut look) or stupid (the baggy pants).

My friend Joey has a very entertaining photo blog, which you can access through the Fascinating Photos link on this blog. He often takes pictures of people he sees at state fairs (he loves going to state fairs), the horse races, or just on the street. In many of these pictures the way people are dressed is frightful. They would say they're dressed "casual;" I would have to say they are dressed without style, taste, grace or any idea of what looks good on them.

But whaterya gonna do. Supposedly fashions go in cycles, so I'm waiting (have been waiting for quite some time) for the more formal style to swing back around. Like hats! Remember when everybody wore a hat for special occasions? Heck, men used to wear a hat all the time. Every time I see an old movie in which even the criminals wear hats -- not backwards or sideways baseball caps but fedoras and Milans and Panamas -- I think what a shame it is that particular fashion has gone out of fashion. Will it ever return? Along with stockings (everybody goes bare-legged now, even when wearing cocktail dresses!), and the occasional "nice" dress? We can only hope.

The other reason for my trip to New York appears in my next posting.