I used to write "Don't Wear Wednesday" post every week, and then include a picture of someone looking ridiculous. Something like that "Look at this (bad word) Hipster" blog, only more far-reaching and including dog sweaters. I abandoned that daily blogging regimen, with its assigned days, and haven't really been thinking about clothing lately.
But this morning, as I lay in a Nyquil haze somewhere between the waking and dreaming worlds with Devo's (not the Rolling Stones) version of "Satisfaction" playing in my brain, I was thinking the 1970's and three-piece suits.
What? That's not what you think about at 4:27 a.m. when you're too congested to sleep and your head hurts but you have to wait a half-hour before you can take any ibuprofen because you just took your thyroid medicine? Well, I guess you're just weird, then.
I was thinking about how people who didn't live through it think of the '70's. It wasn't nearly as marijuana-steeped and laid-back as some imagine. Despite it's bell-bottoms and t-shirts and terry cloth rompers and shorts with piping up the sides and striped tube socks, the 70's still had a lot of conventional dressing going on when it came to going out to restaurants or going to work or church or to the theater. Even on airplane travel required a certain level of dress. Men still wore the aforementioned three piece suits and hats and women wore dresses or dress slacks. I do not remember my mother owning a pair of blue jeans until the 1990's.
And that's when it happened: the 1990's. Suddenly, nobody wore ties or jackets, much less suits anymore. People wore jeans and hooded sweatshirts everywhere, even (in one sad example) to weddings. The dreaded flip flop became a shoe rather than beach attire. How did that happen almost universally and almost overnight?
Now people watch "Mad Men" and long for that elegance again. I'm pretty sure that period wasn't all that great, or my great aunt wouldn't have wound up popping Valium. Maybe, just maybe, what we're longing for is not the formality of attire, but the sense of rules and decorum that come along with it.
With all the screaming "discourse" and volatility and endless choices in our world, maybe we're looking for structure anywhere we can find it, a firm footing that brings us a refreshing sense of order. Maybe it's time to differentiate between "this is what we wear to work, this is what we wear for a night out, and this is what we wear while shoving Doritos in our mouths as we watch "The Hangover" on blue-ray and lay on our couch" clothes.
Or not. I don't really know what I'm talking about most of the time. Except when it comes to salting your pasta water, which you really should do. Unless you like really bland pasta. Which is okay, too. I don't really care as long as I'm not eating it.
