Tip of the Hat

Remember when men dressed in smart suits and wore hats? Me, neither. And neither does my next door neighbor who wears gray sweats with a hole the size of a silver dollar in what should be a very private zone.

To be fair, I'm just as guilty as he is. As I write this I'm wearing what I like to call, yoga pants, which is just a high falutin' word for, old stretchy black sweats. What happened here? When did we get so lazy and creepy looking? Just look at what's happened to Las Vegas. My god, it used to be alive with money, sin and glamour. Ladies dripped with diamonds and wore big huge hair-do's. And, of course, men wore suits. Now Vegas is just fat. We're too lazy to even put the Las in it. Vegas. Buttery buffets and sneaker clad visitors with buffoonish tee shirts that read, "Vegas, Baby!" or "Slot Slut!".  Good night.

People used to dress up to go the movies, to the grocery store, for lawn bowling. (I know lawn bowling is extinct, I'm just trying to make a point here.)

Listen, I'm wearing "yoga pants" because I'm indifferent about dressing. I work from home. Who's going to see me besides the UPS guy and my horribly dressed neighbor? And sometimes I kick it up a notch, put on jeans and a cute top, maybe even a charming little dress, but those days are few and far between. I think we all need to collectively do a lot better. What does it take, an extra 10 or 15 minutes to doll up? And for the men, more like 46 seconds.

Can you imagine? We'd blow our mutual minds with our snappy looks.

So it's agreed. We'll all cut the shit and start looking like the smart set that we are.

Or, and I'm just throwing this out there for the sake of comfort and conversation...we slip into our roomy sweats and cool all this fancy pants chatter.