|"I forget; am I dressing or undressing?"|
Topic of (brief) discussion among three women, one in her 50s, one in her 60s, one in her 70s. I was one of them. That's a wide swath of womanhood, but we all had the same question: Does anyone get dressed anymore? In real clothes? Not hats and gloves (and girdles and stockings and all the awful stuff that was part that) but in the clothes they seem to be shopping for eternally (while wearing workout gear or worse).
Part of the problem (as stated by the youngest) was "anything goes" so people go with anything. It's an effort to decipher what's fashionable when everything seems to be. The easy way out is no effort at all, thus workout gear 24/7.
Celebrities may have been the first to adopt this. Diana didn't hide the fact she was on her way to the gym. That has unfortunately dumbed down to its being okay looking like you are going to or fro the gym all day, every day.
If you believe in your own celebrity, you may have a sense of entitlement that allows you to wear anything you please. When I read about one who is taking exceptionally good care of her body, it turns out she works out 6 hours a day, every day. I understand; that doesn't leave a lot of time for getting dressed. It isn't only the young who are doing this. They are just the most photogenic.
|They shall remain nameless...|
Stand-alone fashionable exercise wear has also spawned its own genre of shopping. Lulemon, founded in 1998, is at the top of the parallel bars in this category, followed by Athleta (a part of the GAP) and Lucy. Today there are athletic wear sub-shops within stores from Nordstrom to Walmart.
Men don't get a pass either. Flopsy, Mopsy and Shirtail here look like they've spent the day at Hank's garage. And they're all really nice looking men. But how can we expect the guys to listen to us when we set pretty bad examples ourselves? Without conducting any door-to-door research, I'm going to suppose women who care about their own public appearances make sure their men do too.
By far the best dressed men I've seen in many a year are rodeo cowboys— spit-polished and starched-shirted for a ten second ride on a bucking bronco.
|Be still my horse...|