Skip to main content

Black is the new Orange

by The Urban Blabbermouth
Having the day off from work for the President's Day holiday, I decide to be lazy, to do no house chores, no work tasks, absolutely nothing.  I decide to go sit in an exclusive high-priced mall.  You know the kind, one with Nordstrom's, Neiman Marcus, and a Zamboni that follows you around removing your dirt and scuffs from the highly polished marble floors as you walk.  I choose a spot outside Nordstrom's near the coffee bar.

Sitting at one of their fancy tables, sipping my fancy coffee and doing nothing transported me to the type of Paris street cafe that we have seen in the movies.  The problem, though, is that in the movies, the Parisians are all stylishly dressed.  Not here.

A hundred or so shoppers stream by me like a runway show at New York's Fashion Week.  I see a terrible lack of elegance.  Most shoppers are in black or blue jeans and some uninteresting dark top.  None with any style or color or elegance.

You would think that the people going to an upscale mall like this, shopping in Nordstrom's and Neiman Marcus, would pick up their style.  I imagine that the women should spend lots of time carefully picking out their outfits for the shopping excursion.  Yet, I see no elegance. 
Curiously, the mothers dress their five-year old babies better than themselves in colorful and pretty outfits.  To be fair, the guys are slobs and don't seem particularly concerned how they dress either. 

I did see a snow bunny.  She wore black leggings, a gray sweater, a black parka draped on her arm, and the obligatory furry boots in matching black.  
The best dressed people were Nordstrom's employees.  Nordstom's has a requirement that the employees wear black.  I saw some very elegant women in black. They confirm the sartorial magnificence of the little black dress.  There were some women wearing black leggings with patterns, also lovely.  I was struck by one lady whose leggings had a black stripe down the side just like one would see on a military uniform.  

There were some other expressive women too.  One older lady wore a gold lame wrap around her black tunic.  Another, and I add quite young, wore black leggings with a black boots that came up to her knees and the boots had huge gold zippers up the back and... matching gold heels.

I must say that male employees looked elegant in a well fitted suits and ties.  It's hard to beat the form and elegance of black suits, white shirts, and a skinny black tie.  Too bad men do not dress that way any more.  

The best dressed man was not a Nordstrom's employee as he walked in the opposite direction after he bought his coffee.  This gentleman looked to me like one of the metrosexual types one sees on television.  He wore a black jacket with a pale yellow shirt and a bold yellow tie with a blue pattern.  He had on beige slacks and his shoes were, get this, a two-toned beige and blue oxfords.  His final touch was a large diamond stud earring that sparkled fire under the mall lights.  A bit feminine for my tastes but he did carry it off well, something I don't think I could do.

Now that I think on it, it's the same at work - no elegance.  Dress down Friday has become dress down all week.  I cannot remember seeing any elegantly dressed co-workers.  Perhaps they are on another floor.

Tomorrow morning, I am going to dress
in my black jeans, fancy leather walking shoes, in black of course, and a plain white shirt.  I will sit in the lobby of my office building, Starbucks coffee in hand, and just watch.


Vol-E said…
You're absolutely right. No one dresses up for anything anymore. We're old enough to remember when people wore their best clothes for flying on an airplane. Women wore skirts, stockings and high heels for this. Nowadays the heels would probably be considered a deadly weapon. And a man wearing a tie? They'd assume you were preparing to strangle someone.

Is that what the phrase "fashion victim" really means???
I can recall women wearing white gloves on occasion, and not woolen ones either.
I guess, though, that you can consider yourself lucky that you didn't sit outside Walmart to drink your coffee.
I did consider sitting at Walmart but realized that would be like looking in the mirror or staring into my closet.

Popular posts from this blog

A Subway Journey Home

by The Urban Blabbermouth. Comments are welcome! ~ There is a ritual to theNew York City subway system. Once there, you lose your humanity.  You are transformed into a savage, brutal and selfish automaton.  Savage in that you push and shove other riders out of your way to get into the subway car.  Brutal in that you never excuse yourself for any atrocities that you commit to get in the subway car.  Selfish in that you never give up your seat to anyone, no matter how crippled or old or pregnant they are.  Automaton in that you never look at any one else as a human being.

Now there are certain strategies that you can employ to be a successful subway rider.  You can stand by the door and obstruct the way just to be selfish and ornery.  That strategy is designed to increase your standing with your fellow passengers by impressing them with how vicious you can be pushing back at people trying to push into the car.  Whenever I see this strategy employed, I immediately piggy back on it.  I move …

Gone Shopping

by The Urban Blabbermouth
Dracula escorted his newly created undead aide into the store.

"...and you need to sleep in the daytime," he explained.

"But what are we doing here in Sleepy's Mattress store?" asked his aide. "I thought we slept in coffins."

"We are modern now," replied Dracula. "We use a mattress like anyone else. I tell you, after two hundred years of sleeping on rock and dirt, this is a joy. So much more comfortable and you don't have to haul it around from place to place."

"Amazing," said the aide.

"For a newbie like you, maybe you want to go traditional. Sleepy's has a Posturedic that will fit inside a coffin."

"What do you use?" asked the aide.

"I have a sleep-number bed. I love it. Mrs. Dracula can toss and turn and I don't feel it on my side."

"Now that you mention the ladies, I think I will skip the coffin. A moo…

I Swear!

by Vol-E

I've lived in the south for over 30 years. Having grown up as a New Yorker, there were some changes to get used to once I crossed the Mason-Dixon line.

Language was a big one. My parents were well-behaved in public, but behind the closed doors of our home, they taught me all kinds of interesting vocabulary words, as they took their everyday frustrations out on one another. "Jerk" and "bastard" were two of the earliest ones, but by the time I was about eight, I knew pretty much every one of George Carlin's pet no-nos.

It was only in college that I met people who were outspokenly offended by swear words. The ones that raised eyebrows initially were related to religion. I began to think twice about using "hell" and "damn," and was politely informed one day that "God's last name is not 'dammit.'" So I gradually began censoring myself a bit, which was probably a good thing, once I joined the work force. Macy…