In my day — admittedly that was a day long ago — mothers nagged their sons to tuck their shirts in, while their daughters wouldn’t be caught dead in a blouse that wasn’t pulled down so tight that she couldn’t raise her hand in class. In fact, the garment that used to be a blouse, is now a shirt. Have you tried to buy a “blouse” recently? I don’t go shopping very often, but from the catalogs I look at, if a
blouse shirt is part of the oufit, it’s slightly untucked from the slacks pants or jeans.
Trendy young men have been wearing unstuffed shirts, or shirts that hang out all the way around, for quite a few years. Young women not so much. That is, until this “half-stuffed” look arrived. One doesn’t see women of a certain age untucked, unless they need a face lift. (Frankly, a little nip here and tuck there wouldn’t go amiss for many of us, but I take the stance that I’ve earned every chin, every wrinkle I’ve got, thank you very much! They are who I am now.)
Here’s another thing. Who decided that pajama tops didn’t need to match pajama bottoms anymore? Eddie Bauer? JJill? Victoria you-know-who? Who started the trend to separates? When I get ready for bed, I want comfort. I don’t want to search for pajama parts. Give me a matched set of flannel pj’s, and I’m happy.
Back in the day, slumber parties were the thing. A gaggle of giggly girls gathered at one girl’s house to eat potato chips and brownies and drink Cokes all night long. Often, the boys would hear about the goings-on and try to crash the party, but a vigilant dad with a growly voice and fierce look dispatched them in short order.
Nowdays — did you know? — boys and girls have slumber parties together. All very above board, so I’m told, and well-chaperoned, but still. I have to wonder what fun it is to sit and gossip when there’s a bunch of boys present? They do sit and gossip, don’t they?
Pajamas-as-street-wear is another unfortunate trend. In our little college town the fad seems to be outlandishly patterned flannel bottoms, say black with purple and fluorescent green, with a sweatshirt, usually maroon and orange, up top.
A few years ago I learned that our grandson Miah wanted footie pajamas for his birthday. Darned if I didn’t find some to fit a very tall sixteen-year-old — bright turquoise emblazoned with green, yellow, and orange frogs! He was thrilled, but when I heard that he’d worn them to a movie at the mall, I was…well, let’s say…grandma was not so thrilled. Good grief!
I don’t even like passers-by to see me, in my robe, picking up the paper from the curb!