Today I found a stash of white slacks that I had tucked away when days were getting cooler. Their time has come. They reminded me of a minor incident that, at some level, still rankles.
It was September (about 50 years ago). I was visiting my parents who were hosting an evening of bridge for their friends. That summer I had found the most (I thought) stunning white dress that was both casual and chic. When I came downstairs to help prepare for the festivities, my mother exclaimed: “You can’t wear that!”
“Why on earth not,” I wondered aloud.
“Because it’s after Labor Day.”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“People should not wear white dresses after Labor Day.”
“That’s silly. It’s a nice dress and I feel comfortable in it.”
“No. It will not do. One of my friends gave you a lovely green wool dress. Wear that.”
“But it’s too warm and I don’t really like it.”
My mother had an expression-- cold eyes and slightly pursed lips – that was the equivalent of Moses descending from Mount Sinai.
She became ‘she who must be obeyed.’ So I did.
But I still think rules like that are silly. If it wasn’t going to be so hot tomorrow, I’d find some green wool thing to wear … even though it’s after Memorial Day.