What To Wear, What To Wear...

It’s Thursday. You knew that. But were you aware that since my employer’s implementation of the four-day workweek that in addition to Thursday it is also my Friday?

Fascinating, iddin it?

As always, I’ll be pre-judging my weekend based on the songs on the morning’s commute.

So what does the iPod have to say?

Woodstock by Crosby Stills Nash & Young
Hem of Your Garment by Cake
Wilderness by Sleater-Kinney
Never Been to Spain by Three Dog Night
Cobrastyle by Teddybears
Charmer by Kings of Leon
The Hardest Button to Button by The White Stripes

Well, I think that’s pretty clear, don’t you? No point in beating it into the ground…

Ahem.

Ah. Friday. Fridays are, generally speaking, “casual day” in the United States, and because it will be reason to wear my new jeans – and because I have been sitting here almost two hours wracking my brain for a subject on which to blogify – I find myself thinking about my wardrobe.

I dress for work. As opposed to, say, going to work naked – something HR emphatically frowns on. Hey – I’ve read the employee manual. Shipping can send out all the “Naked Friday” e-mails it wants.

I’m not falling for that again.

I’ve been working since the day of the typewriter and Wite-Out, since computers were referred to as “CRT”s.

In other words, a long time.

I admit I can have some pretty outmoded ideas on proper work attire.

For instance, while I no longer wear nylons in the summer (that is so 80s), I still wear heels, skirts, snappy little jackets and flowers in my hair.

OK. I don’t really wear flowers in my hair, but someone did on the bus today.

He looked very jaunty.

Things have definitely gotten casual since I first began trading my time for money, however, and I’m not sure it’s a good thing.

The normalization of the thong, for example. I can see it – as can everyone else – because those pants are only pretending to cover your ass. Lady, those pants don’t care about you -- and what they've done to me? I'll be thinking of slingshots for the rest of the day.

Flip-flops – which, by the way, were known as “thongs” in my youth – also strike me as a tad too relaxed for corporate work, although the "thok thok thok" of someone in a pair of flip-flops coming down the hall also serves as a warning, so it's kind of a give-and-take situation there.

But the brilliantly blue bra and white shirt? Some of the men are walking into filing cabinets. Me? Again with the slingshots.

I don’t know. Times change, appropriate dress changes.

No need to go back to the scintillation of a glimpse of a woman’s ankle, but can we keep the butt cracks at a minimum at work?

I think that's fair.