BlackOctober 1, 2007
When I moved from New York City to Mayberry, a friend sent me a goodbye card. It read, in part: “Repeat after me: ‘Black is good. Black is fine. Black is always appropriate. I will still wear black.’”
Three and a half years later, just guess how often I wear black.
Not quite never, but hardly ever is about right. Mostly it’s the fact that my office is my dining room table and there are plenty of days where the only adults whose paths I cross are the teachers at my kids’ child care center.
But it’s also true that it is different here and the head-to-toe black just isn’t done. I’d look like the goth-est 15-year-old around if I walked into the grocery store wearing a totally normal NYC outfit of black sweater, pants, and shoes.
And on the flip side, last week when I did go back to the city, I spent one whole day wanting to crawl into a hole because I was wearing way too much color. I felt so conspicuous and kountry all day. If any clothing stores had been open at 8:30 a.m. I absolutely would have bought myself a black t-shirt to get me through the day.
This is all making me sound like a sheep or a fashion slave and I don’t think I am. I’m all for individuality and not giving a crap what other people think. But the fact is I do care and I think most of us do. I don’t need or want to have the latest, hottest, most expensive styles. But looking good builds confidence and at least for me, looking good does require some level of conforming to the local customs. If I’m thinking more about how much I hate what I’m wearing than everything else I need to be doing, I might as well change my shirt and get on with my life.
Besides, I think I look pretty good in a nice chocolate brown merino wool.
Mayberry Mom is visiting today as part of the Blog Exchange. She swears on a stack of back issues of the New York Times that she will never, ever, ever wear a holiday-themed sweatshirt. Be sure to click over to her blog to read JJ’s take on this month’s topic!