Friday, August 17, 2007
I went shopping at lunch today for something to wear to my 20th high school reunion in a couple of weeks. (Let’s not get into the whole 20 years thing right now; let’s focus on the important thing: fashion.)
The main event is dinner and music (the invite did not say dinner and dancing, which is just as well; I wouldn’t dance and I don’t want to watch a bunch of almost-40-year-olds I went to preschool with dancing, either). The invite also said the dress code was “casual.” Where I come from, “casual” could easily be interpreted as your best NASCAR shirt and going-to-church jeans. In my book, a 7:30 dinner/music event calls for, at the very least, black pants and semi-fashionable top, heels, etc. So it’s hard to know what to wear—dress up too much and people will think you’re all puttin’ on airs. Dress up not enough and you won’t look like the successful, savvy woman that you are. Or something.
So I’ve been looking for an outfit that says:
“I’m better than you now because I haven’t lived in this stinking town since 1987 and you married the guy you sat next to in algebra and you live a block away from your parents’ house where you grew up. And I actually left not just the county but the state for college. And I make more money than you. And I’m still a band fag at heart and damn proud of it, you stupid jock.”
It must also must disguise the fact that I’ve gained a hundo since they last saw me (L-baby is 9 months now; I’ll just say it’s baby weight).
Perhaps that’s a bit much to ask of an outfit.