No one has seen you look worse than the petrol station closest to your house" said a recent meme on my Facebook feed.
It made me cringe, as it's not just the local BP that has seen me looking my worst lately. Various shops, my GP's waiting room and cafes all have had the dubious delight of seeing my relaxed take on COVID day wear.
I haven't seen any studies, but I would suggest that our individual slob radiuses have widened, along with a few waistlines.
I had to spend a few days at a reasonably official place last week and, to my horror, I realised that I had forgotten how to dress like a functioning adult. The instruction was to dress smart casual. Remind me again, what is smart casual?
My work clothes haven't been aired for months, so it was an odd experience perusing my off-the-rack wear. Since April I've been digging through the bottom-shelf separates that need no coordination or accessorising. I managed to pull together a suitable ensemble for my brief return to smart casual land. The next day was a bit less of a struggle as my overly casual memory smartened up.
Remind me again, what is smart casual?
Is this the end of smart casual? What's acceptable dress in the mid-COVID age? Are garments made from stretch fabric and shoes lined with sheepskin the new black?
It seems we are all at sea without a style compass.
Back in the day, the Australian Women's Weekly set the bar for what to wear. I know this because I remember my Nan and Mum discussing what Maggie Tabberer had to say on the subject each edition. Forget Ita Buttrose, Tabberer was the arbiter of style when I was a kid.
I remember being fascinated by Tabberer's weekly "fashion boo-boo", where she'd describe some style crime she'd seen. It was never clear where she had spied these abominations, but I think the crimes were committed well away from Double Bay, Toorak, Noosa and pockets of Woollahra.
Despite my strange fascination with Tabberer's fashion boo-boos, only two of her style/etiquette misdemeanors have stayed with me. One was wearing pantyhose with open-toed shoes or, even worse, strappy sandals. No one deserved to see an uncovered toe seam.
The other memorable boo-boo was an etiquette breach committed by busy office workers on their half-hour lunch breaks. In a brief, yet searing, paragraph Tabberer reminded us that it was unsightly to eat while walking. When one eats, one should be seated. Readers were directed that munching on anything while "on the go" was up there with parading a VPL (visible panty line) or using a cafe serviette as a tissue, then leaving it for the wait staff to pick up. (I must qualify that the "serviette as a tissue" example is my etiquette boo-boo, not Maggie T's. But, I'll be presumptuous and suggest that she'd back me on this, as would the late, great deportment and etiquette queen, June Dally-Watkins.)
There was another fashion maven, or Hollywood star (I can't recall exactly who it was) who decreed that there was an definitive age when a woman should stop wearing jeans. This would have been in the '80s, so I'm not sure if she had an issue with unflattering high waists, bubble gum colours or the unforgiving stretch of certain denim. Anyway, she ruled that women shouldn't wear jeans over the age of 35 or something.
Of course, the rule didn't apply to men. They could wear their denim strides as long and as high as they liked. No one in their right mind would be offended by the sight of an older gent walking around in public with his easy-fit Levis hitched up around his chest and secured with a belt.
Thankfully, plenty of older women didn't get the jeans memo and continued to live the denim dream as long as they damn well pleased.
These women also sensibly ignored the suggestion that they should gracefully transition to a more forgiving wardrobe of matchy-matchy linen. Ideally they would start to wear expensive white flowing tops with a white wide-leg pant; or maybe a pricey ecru oversized tunic with ecru palazzo pants. Maybe add a matching turban?
Linen might be breathable, cool in summer, warm-ish in winter, but it can only be worn for about half an hour before it starts to resemble a crumpled paper bag. Unless you are in the company of others wearing the same get up (i.e. in a cult or drinking yourself silly on a yacht listening to Michael Bolton), head-to-toe one-tone linen is always going to end up looking totally messed up. Unlike jeans, this applies to men and women.
But, who cares? The last thing we need is another restriction or rule, style or otherwise. It appears the 2020 COVID Collection is as unstructured and confused as its befuddled wearers who have somehow managed to show up each day and carry on regardless..
But one thing is clear: COVID couture is individual. One person's boo-boo is another's frou-frou.
Maybe fashion has met its match?
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