Capris, Clamdiggers, Pedal Pushers, and Knickers, Oh My!

I keep saying it to everyone - "I am NOT accepted here in Montgomery". The cheerleader-type mentality reigns supreme. They've drawn that circle in the sand and I cannot cross over. I am "Little Ralphie" and his "A Christmas Story" friends; noses smooshed and faces pressed up against the window of "Higbee's Department Store" but I can't get in...

...or can I?

But...I wonder. You see, someone must have sent out a "clothing memo" to the "over 40 crowd" and counted me out once more. I never got word that I should, in some "Stepford Wivesonean focus" go to the store and plunk down ready cash on some Capri pants.

It's clearly evident everyone else here got the memo, as everywhere I look, women who fall into that "cougar-aged" category...are sporting these horrid things.

Oh, don't try to convince me otherwise...I saw it a little at first, a few years ago...or at least I "think" I did. I'd go into a store and try on some pants and remark to myself, "huh...that's funny - usually they are overly long - these don't even make it to my ankles...they just kinda "high water" it there. And I'd write it down to some sweat shop in Pakistanjurbec cutting fabric short and catering to the overly short-legged girls of the world.

And staring at that "lower exposure of skin" in the mirror takes me back...way back - to a time in my youth, all regional locales aside - although I'm sure everyone across the world has experienced this in one shape or form...the time you HAD to wear your sibling's pants (be them brother or sister) they outgrew...because you were next in line, height-wise. Surely you can sympathize with the emotional scourge...the raking over the coals...the cutting down a few notches...that only 3rd through 6th graders can inflict upon one another. The finger-pointing, the name calling, the ostracizing - the social embarrassment of seeing...or worse yet, of wearing those high-top Keds (or Ked mock-offs...which we called "Bo-Bo's") the "clever" moms would buy in order to conceal and camouflage the obvious - thereby doing even MORE damage by their misguided, albeit thoughtful, misdirection.

So, when I tried on those things...a wellspring of horror came rushing over me like a flood...reminding me even MORE so of those high-water pants that never needed to be hiked up...and unfastening that first button cum snap thing...and shimmying them down past your hips...well before sagging pants were in "vogue"; no, that kind of deception never cut it.

Back on the rack these misfits went.

Now imagine my chagrin when I find out NOW...that THEN - I could have been a trend-setter. Just think...all those social pariahs I went to school with - were way ahead of their time. Unfortunately, they never lived in present-day Montgomery where they could parade around and flaunt those ankles...and calves with confidence. Believe it or not...they can even wear them in front of 3rd to 6th graders and NOT get mocked...even at the ripe-old advanced age of 48.

Me? In a way I'm glad I didn't get "the memo" - my Washington, DC trip last month solidified my thoughts and confirmed my suspicions. It's really more of a regional thing - Capris were far and between there and, I'm guessing, even further between in Jersey...where I grew up. Further bolstering the old saying "you can take the girl out of Jersey...but you can't make her wear items of clothing which will leave an indelible mental mark on her like those all too often scabbed knees from Dodgeball on the playground...which ruined an infinitesimal amount of tights"...or something like that. Or perhaps it's just "You can take the girl out of Jersey and plop her in Montgomery...but will she wear them to fit in?

Well...let's find out next installment, shall we?

(Part I of II)