Memories of My Own Personal Dress Code

Next year, my children's school has decided to go with uniforms. I'm not sure what lead to this decision. Currently, there is a fairly innocuous dress code. For the boys: nice pants, jeans and polo tops. For the girls: skirts no shorter that 2 inches above the knee, no tank tops, no sweat pants. Pretty normal guidelines that seem to be abided by 99% of the kids. But for whatever the reason, the powers that be have decided that uniforms are the way to go.



I actually have mixed feelings on the subject, which are probably deeply seated and psychologically-based upon my up-bringing. As a child, my mother was very involved in my wardrobe decision-making process. In elementary school, I was one of the few kids whose "school clothes" and "church clothes" were interchangeable. This had to be a little bothersome in PE class and on the playground, but it must not have been too bad because I am not left with any traumatizing memories associated with this time. Middle school, or what we referred to as "junior high" is another story all together.

One of the exciting aspects of junior high was the fact that you were allowed to wear jeans. This was a major discussion among my friends, though back then, you basically had a choice between Levis and Wranglers (the difference being that your parents bought Wranglers, but you saved up your money for Levis). When my mother took me back-to-school shopping a few weeks before school started, I learned that jeans were not to be part of my personal dress code. She felt that they were not lady-like and "inappropriate", a word I grew to hate over the next few years since I heard it so much. I was privately heart-broken, as I felt my hope at being "cool" flying out the window. Those hopes were completely dashed the first day of school as she insisted I wear my hair in the dreaded "pig-tails" in order to keep it "out of the way" for PE class.

I may be the only person of my generation to make it through middle school without wearing a pair of jeans. I remember one of my friends who went to a different school asking me what "private school" I went to. She had assumed that what I wore must be under some sort of dress code. Thankfully, by the time I got to highschool, mom had loosened up a bit. My 3 brothers convinced her that my reputation would not be lost with a pair of Levis.

The most cringe-worthy memory of highschool wardrobe had to do with a swim party. Now I generally wasn't allowed at any party unless it was a child's birthday or something associated with the church. But for some reason, my mom agreed to letting me go to a swim party at a friend's house. This meant we had to go swimsuit shopping, and needless to say, I was worried. The only swimsuits I had were swim team suits, and I had meekly asked if we could get someting a little "prettier". I remember we headed to the department store at the mall. As we walked through the swimsuit department, my spirits soared as we walked past a rack of bikinis. Unfortunately, we turned left past them and headed toward the one-piece section. This was still ok. Maybe we could go with something strapless or plunging. But in the next moment, it was my hopes that were "plunging" as my mom said hello to Gladys, the 70 year old sales lady from the granny swimwear department. Gladys had been kind enought to lay out a few suits in advance for us. There was a nice black one-piece with granny pants and an attached mid-thigh skirt. There was also a purple flowered print with matching bathing cap. But the "winner" that mom and Gladys settled on was an orange and navy ("the colors are so young!") polka dot one piece with the modesty strap on the thigh and the cone-shaped breasts. As I walked into the dressing room to put it on, I actually had tears in my eyes. I remember walking out and hearing mom and Gladys go on and on about how terrific I looked. Gladys said she wished she could still carry something like that off. (I wished she would have carried it off.)

So home we went with the orange and navy suit. If you're thinking "Why didn't she just say no?", you have to understand that it was another time. I was truly appreciative that mom would buy me a suit. I knew she had my best interests at heart, and in the end, I wouldn't hurt her for anything. I didn't end up going to the party. I probably said I didn't feel good or something. But I do remember that later that year, I came home from school to find a true bikini laid out on my bed. I remember carrying it out with a big smile on my face and just staring at mom. "Only in the backyard and on family vacation." No problem, mom.

So today, when I consider dress code, I am flooded with ambiguity. It's safe and easy and appropriate, but it erases a little bit of the drama in life. It erases little bit of our ability to express who we are.

A friend of mine referred to what his daughter had picked out to wear to school one day as being from the "Pottery Barn homeless collection". Good for her.