Dressing Down

 Whenever we have friends over for dinner we take care to plan for the people attending. We check to see what foods they don't like, lest we make eggplant parmesan and there are never-eggplanters in the group. We ask about food allergies, so a menu of jambalaya with shrimp doesn't lead to an evening of watching a guest break out in hives. And because we want all to be as comfortable in our house as we are, we let them know the dress code is always, always, always very casual.

Then again, it's hard to find a venue or setting these days where that doesn't apply. Sure, if it's listed as a black-tie gala or you are a bridesmaid or groomsman at a wedding there is a specific outfit by definition. But beyond that almost anything goes, anywhere, anytime. You might choose to put on a suit and tie or wear a dress, but that's your call. Know that at the next pew or seat or table there is just as likely to be a person in shorts and sandals.

It all started when sportswear was introduced to the American wardrobe in 1930's. Originally describing more informal and interchangeable tops and bottoms, it came to mean anything not associated with evening wear. The trend accelerated with the unisexing of clothing as women took to pants (shocking!). It continued as '60s casual counterculture style pushed into the mainstream, then doubled back on itself as the office loosened up with business casual in the '90s. Come the pandemic and all formality fell by the wayside, as remote work led to work from home led to sweatpants as high fashion.

The movement has permeated every walk of life, from work to play, from church to school, from theatre to travel. It was less than 18 months ago that no-less-an-institution than the US Senate wrestled this topic, on account of the senator from Pennsylvania. John Fetterman's brand is as a working man, and as part of that persona he prefers to do his legislating in a sweatshirt and gym shorts. While there was an unwritten rule on the senate floor that "business dress" was required, it had already been relaxed in 2019 when then-Senate Rules Committee chair Amy Klobuchar pushed for a change so women could wear sleeveless dresses. Since then there has been a gentle-person's agreement to keep it snappy looking, to the point that all senators, including Fetterman, voted from the door of the cloakroom leading to the floor if they were in tee shirts, polos and yes, hoodies.

But in 2023 Senator Fetterman's turn came up as presiding officer of the chamber, and he took his place at the rostrum in his usual ensemble. All hell broke loose: after all, this was important stuff, no simple debt ceiling debate or gun rights discussion. This was about pants. And so Senators Romney and Manchin worked across the aisle to introduce Senate Resolution 376, the SHORTS Act (SHow Our Respect To the Senate), requiring business attire by specifying "a coat, tie, and slacks or other long pants" for men. And no, you didn't miss it: it doesn't say anything about women. It passed unanimously, with Romney predictably touting it as an accomplishment: "It's another example of Republicans and Democrats being able to work together and to solve — in this case — what may not be a real big problem, but it's an important thing and makes a difference to a lot of people."

Since then we've had precious little discourse on formality, until this past week with the venue being a chess tournament. The world's number one chess player Magnus Carlsen was told he could not continue playing while wearing jeans. Officials at the World Rapid and Blitz Chess Championships in New York said they had a dress code, that jeans were banned, and took a firm stand. Firm, that is, until Carlsen said he would withdraw from play and head to the beach rather than change. Hang on, said the officials. When we said "banned" we actually meant that while "it is still required to follow the official dress-code, elegant minor deviations (that may, in particular, include appropriate jeans matching the jacket) are allowed." As one observer noted online, "So jeans matching the jacket, or what's typically known as a jean jacket are good?!" I believe that is, how shall we put it, checkmate?

Let's face it; whatever you wear people will judge you. It's just a matter of how comfortable you are being judged. Harry Winston said it best: people will stare, so make it worth their while. And while it's true that others may judge you based on your sartorial choices, the more important point is how it makes you feel about yourself. Or as Bette Midler put it, "I firmly believe that with the right footwear one can rule the world."

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Marc Wollin of Bedford has never been noted as a fashion icon. His column appears weekly via email and online on Blogspot and Substack as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.

Shovel Brigade

If you live down south you might want to skip this one. If your abode is a condo or apartment, the next few paragraphs might ring hollow. Likewise if you have a homeowners' association, have decamped to an Airbnb for the season, or just have been excused because you have a bad back. But if you are a resident as we are of the Northeast, the Northwest, or indeed any locale north of the Mason-Dixon line and a hypothetical western extension, then this is right in your sweet spot. Because after an unusually mild fall it's time to dig out the shovels because the snow has started to fall.

It's a seasonal red line as notable as moving your flannel shirts or winter coats to the front of your closet. For the past eight or nine months the detritus in your garage has revolved around brooms and potting soil and chair cushions. And while they might have been less in use since September, they were closer to the front than the back. But now? While the timing differs depending on whether you live in Chicago or Rochester or here in New York's Hudson Valley, you looked out one morning and what was green around the house and black in front of the garage was now all white.

While it is said that the native tribes in colder climates have multiple words for the white stuff (not to mention the 2011 Kate Bush album "50 Words for Snow"), our vocabulary is more limited simply because our exposure is more limited. Also, whether it's because I'm taller than I was at five years old, because of climate change, or perhaps a bit of both, the snowfall totals, depth and frequency don't seem to run up the numbers at least compared to my memory of past seasons. The net result is that, leaving out the profanities attached as modifiers tacked on to the front, our monikers for the varieties of frozen accumulation fall into a far fewer categories. 

Most significant among those is "heavy." That version can be wet or relatively dry, but it's the kind that piles up enough to delay school openings or even prompt closings. If you have a snowblower it's the time to break it out, or absent that, hunker down until the plow guy makes his rounds. Shoveling is possible, but it's hard, back-breaking work that will take you several hours. It's the stuff of snowmen and sledding, of mittens and heavy boots, or hot chocolate and roaring fires. 

At the opposite end is a "coating." More airbrushed than piled on, this is a step above just frost. Everything looks white, but as they say about some people (and not in a nice way) it's a mile wide and an inch deep. Sure, some things might be a little slippery, but as the temperature warms up in the daytime it's more wet than not.

And then there's what we had just before the Christmas break, what makes it white in song and story. A "light" drop, let's call in an inch, two at the most. It is most assuredly snow, cold and slippery, but also light and beautiful. If the sun pops out it will likely melt on paved surfaces, but holds its form on grassy areas. Leave it be and you'll be walking on it for a few days. Or you can do as we do and push it off.

Note I say "push" as opposed to "shovel." While the implement you use is indeed a flat or curved blade attached to a long-handled stick, in this case it's a noun and not a verb. There is nothing to lift and throw, just shove. In fact, the snow is so light that unless I'm in a rush because of an appointment, the process of cleaning it off is less a chore and more a meditative stroll. That's because it's usually early AM, it's cool and quiet, and the options are multiple. Do I work in straight lines or do I zig zag? Do I aim for efficiency or patterns? How straight a row can I make, and can I angle the blade just so in order to pile it to one side and leave no residue on the other? If, like me, you're the kind of person who enjoys a defined project with a beginning, middle and end, one whose completion is simply defined and which takes a relatively short, finite amount of time, there are worse ways to spend an hour or so. 

Perhaps a bit overstated, but you Florida people don't know what bliss you are missing. Go back to your shorts and your umbrellas, and post your "Wow, it dipped below 70 so I had to put on a sweater" snarky updates. I'm sure we will get walloped with a big dump soon enough and I will grit my teeth like all the rest. But at least for this iteration, it's white, it's clean, it's crisp, and I like it.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford likes all four seasons, usually. His column appears weekly via email and online on Blogspot and Substack as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.