You're asking me?

My friend calls and wants some fashion advice.

Judy is going to a Big Band concert/dance at which family members will be playing, and she isn’t certain about what to wear. This would not be a problem if the event were held locally. People here generally do not dress up and basically wear what they want. I went to a wedding once where the bride’s grandfather arrived in a Dickey work shirt and pants. I have been to funerals where mourners came in bib overalls.

This is not local though, this is in St. Louis. St. Louis is the "big city." I have never been to an event like this in St. Louis to see what everyone else is wearing. I don't know if they have adopted the "California casual" attitude that is common back home, or if they are more upscale and elegant. But I imagine what might be okay in our little rural town might not blend in well with the crowd there.

I burst into laughter—not because she needs some help—but because I do not think I am the best person to be asking about this sort of thing. I clean up fairly well, but I don't have a very well-honed sense of fashion or style and have always “depended on the kindness of strang…” uhh, I mean my sister, to find appropriate clothes for me to wear to dress-up events. It is a shame Judy can’t call my sister and ask her.

But, she is my best friend. so I give it a shot. Judy describes a few things she is thinking about wearing, and they sound quite nice, and I agree that those will almost certainly be perfectly fine.

I laugh some more, and we hang up.

Just about then Richard comes in to tell me he is going to town, and I describe the conversation, and he laughs too.

Then says “You do realize that your shirt is inside out.”

Well no, I didn’t, unfortunately. I had gone to town that way earlier in the morning to run errands, and I was on display at the park, where I walked twice around the perimeter with another woman, at the bank, the grocery store, and the post office.

Did anybody notice? Probably not. But still…