Happy May, My Friend!
Something awful is happening to me. Yesterday, I left home to go to a social function at a friend’s house. It was a group of grandparents from my church. That wasn’t the awful part; that was actually really great. Here’s the horrible: I didn’t give one thought to what I should wear to this engagement. Not so much as a fleeting, “Is my shirt clean?” Am I one step away from wandering outside in my underwear?
It’s not that it was a fancy affair by any means; it was a casual potluck. But still, I showed up in jeans and a T-shirt. Honestly, jeans and a T-shirt are my favorite things, but I wore old jeans, not my nicer ones. And the T-shirt was old, too, and possibly dirty. What was I thinking? My only excuse(s) is/are that I’ve had a bad back all week, and that has been distracting, plus I’m taking care of my son’s dog. Stella is a love, don’t get me wrong. She’s just an added living being for me to keep alive, and that comes with added burdens.
I didn’t even realize I looked slovenly until I looked around and saw all the other women looking all cute. Sundresses, cute dangly earrings, adorable sandals. What happened to me? I used to be much better at this! The crowning glory was my hair! It had rained a bit and was humid, and I’d been out walking Stella in all that moisture. You know those little foam shapes that are encapsulated until you “just add water!” and they grow into full-size spongey toys? That’s what happens to my hair when a smattering of rain or humidity is involved. Those sponge toys advertise, “Soak in water and watch them grow into fun shapes!” Yesterday, my hair had grown into a not-so-fun shape.
I survived the evening, and no one kicked me out, so I guess I passed muster. Maybe this group allowed one bum into its fold and decided I was it.
This all made me think about what pains I took as a much younger person when getting ready for the day. My 24-year-old self would have been mortified at my appearance yesterday.
Does anyone remember the book Color Me Beautiful by Carole Jackson? Or have you “had your colors done”? My friend Mary and I were so into that whole world. A woman who lived in our area of Minneapolis was a color expert. I can still hear her say, “I did Loretta Lynn’s colors,” as we all sat in wide-eyed amazement. She was a Mary Kay rep who also did colors on the side. She was a vision of perfection in her perfect makeup, clothing and accessories. I’m going to call her Joan.
Joan held beauty classes of all sorts. Mary, and I and a few other friends went to the class where Joan would determine what “season” we were. We were instructed not to wear any makeup to this class (horrifying, I know). She had us each come up to the front of the class and sit on a stool. She wrapped our hair in a towel so our hair color wouldn’t come into play. Then she began the process: She draped swatches of different colored cloths over our shoulders and then stood back and scrutinized. It was a fascinating and intimidating process. She might ask a few questions about what we felt comfortable in—and then, a few minutes later, she’d say those words we paid the big bucks for, “You’re a summer.” Or winter, autumn, or spring. (I was, indeed, dubbed a summer.) There I sat, draped in light pink, light blue, light green—the very personification of summer.
Then, as a bonus, she had color wheels to purchase that were in your color palette. For a mere $20, you’d never have to make a bad apparel choice again. You better believe I bought one! That thing went with me everywhere. I whipped that wheel out whenever I was shopping to make sure what I was wearing was in my “season.” (Now that I think about it, at least my grungy t-shirt last night was a pastel color, well within my appropriate zone.)
Joan also had Mary Kay parties that went well outside the boundaries of an ordinary makeup party. She also gave fashion tips. (Of course, she did.) She had a point system to utilize every time you got dressed each morning. Each (visible) article of clothing you wore was worth one point. Each piece of jewelry you wore was worth a point. Closed-toed shoes equaled one point. Open-toed shoes equaled two points! Any other accessories (headband, purse, scarf) were a point apiece. Joan advised that we should get to 10 points each day when presenting ourselves to the world. Mary and I worked our darndest to do just that. Now, we worked together in the activity department of a nursing home; it’s not like we had some fancy job that required 10-point outfits! But we made it work, baby! We were the best-dressed activity workers in all of New Hope, Minnesota!
I think the outfit I wore to my party last night was only 4 points. Joan would be disgusted.
Now that I think about that, all that planning just makes me tired. This was way before Mary and I had kids, so we actually had the time and the mental capacity to get our 10-point outfits together. My kids are grown and gone, so does that mean I should go back to the 10-point system every day? Lord, no.
Maybe not thinking about how I looked yesterday was actually a good thing. I don’t want to take that too far, mind you, but it’s kind of nice not to overthink what I look like. Is that what happens to us as we grow into “mature” older people? Do we concentrate more on our innards than our out-ards? Maybe that’s not a bad thing.
But please, check on me if I start wearing my undergarments on the outside of my clothes. I don’t want to take this newfound liberation too far!
Wishing you a week of lower-than-10-point outfits with a side of “no big deal.”
Written with love – – – Patti XOXO
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink;
or about your body, what you will wear.
Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?”
Matthew 6:25
Mary and Me. She’s wearing her signature “satellite dish” earrings. My scarf had all the right colors. We were quite a pair.