What NOT to wear, truly

“I want everyone to wear what they want and mix it in their own way. That, to

me, is what is modern.” ― Karl Lagerfeld

With all due respect to Mr. Lagerfeld, I beg to differ. Clothing is often designed with a purpose in mind. Don’t believe me? You don’t wear a swimsuit to go grocery shopping, now do you? (And, in making this statement, I am discounting anyone that is now or ever could appear on the People of WalMart website.) And when’s the last time you wore a tuxedo to cut the grass? You don’t wear a low-cut cocktail dress and 4” FMPs to the PTA meeting, either. You don’t wear your Sexy Mother F’er t-shirt to work. And you do not, or should I say SHOULD NOT, wear ripped jeans to the theater.

The Engineer, the Landscaper and I recently attended a production of “The Ghost Brothers of Darkland County,” written by Stephen King with music by John Mellencamp at the Akron Civic Theater. It's a gorgeous old theater lovingly restored to baroque resplendence. In the lobby, brightly colored walls and ceilings adorned with medallions drip with gilt work. You enter the theater itself and you're transported to what I imagine an amphitheater in Verona, Italy would look like. You sit under a starry night sky, thanks for clever lighting and paint. Intricate columns, arches and statues surround the stage.

In short, you’re sitting in show-stopping opulence. Don’t you owe it to every hand-painted medallion, every lovingly restored statue, every twinkling (fake) star, every velvet-covered seat, every snappily dressed usher to wear a pair of pants without the seat ripped out??? Don’t you at least owe it to your mama who raised you better, for the love of all that’s holy?

Let me just give you a smattering of who attended the theater that night. There was the simply delightful gal in front of us who truly believed that skinny, low-cut ripped jeans were designed for any body type … even an apple-shaped girl who had to jump high into the air every time she stood to get the denim over her ass crack. Yes, I saw nearly her entire ass crack 4 times that night. Yes, I was counting.

Then there was the man who wore dirty, rumpled clothing that had that “just-slept-in” look. I mean, if you can afford a ticket to see Ghost Brothers of Darkland County, surely you can afford laundry soap, too, right? 

Next, there was a man wearing an outfit that my 20-something employee assures me is “hipster chic.” I’ve almost recovered 100% of my vision after being struck fashion blind by the horror of his ensemble. He dressed his tall husky frame in gray skinny ankle pants, a checkered flannel lumberjack shirt, white socks, black Converse shoes and a gray bandana to match his butt-flattening pants. And, let’s not forget the neon-green tape on his glasses.

First, FIRST of many atrocities – the skinny ankle pants. GENTLEMEN, skinny ankle pants are NOT for men. I repeat, they are NOT for men. They do NOTHING for your physique. Less than nothing. They flatten you butt and make it look like you grew 3” last night and didn’t realize it. Just because a company manufactures a garment, doesn’t mean someone has to wear it. Let’s recall that someone created culottes, stirrup pants and strapless terry rompers. If no one wore them, they’d go away, now wouldn’t they? And I don’t care if they have an Ab-bore-crumbie & Bitch label on them. It just means you paid too much to look that stupid.

I would say less than 1/3 of the audience had on what I’d consider “theater clothes.” I don’t understand why everyone can’t dress up a little for fine musical theater. The Landscaper said, “Maybe they don’t own nicer clothes.” I called bullshit on that one. Everyone owns a pair of “funeral pants,” no? You can’t tell me there are people who go to funerals in ripped jeans and Sexy Mother F’er t-shirts.

The Engineer was having fun “poking the bear” by pointing out every rumpled T-shirt, exposed thong and pair of ripped jeans. She really had me worked into a froth in the lobby during intermission. I was opining, “Part of the joy of going to the theater for me is seeing men in suits and ladies in evening attire dripping with jewels.” And, wouldn’t you know, a lady wearing jeans happened to be walking by during my diatribe? She came right up to me and said, “I know! I know I shouldn’t wear jeans to the theater. It was just so cold out and I wanted to be comfortable.” I was almost mortified. Almost. And, I told her, in all truth, that she looked quite nice. She was at least wearing dark-wash trouser jeans with a nice sweater. Nothing on her was ripped, rumpled, dirty or adorned with a curse word. She was not ruining my “theater experience.” The woman with the thong hanging out of her trashy pants was.

I don’t care what anyone says. Your clothing does speak for you, so think about what you’re saying with it. If you want to say, “I don’t use soap when I bathe,” that’s your choice. Or, if you want to say, “I’ll follow any fashion trend whether it looks good on me or not,” that’s all you.

But, please, the next time you go to the theater, consider putting on your “funeral pants” to soothe my genteel sensibilities. Pretty please?