Slut or Gardener?

Photo by ktylerconk.

There are certain times that my lack of girly-girlness is more apparent than others. At times I am right on the money, and at others way off track. Take last night for example. I attended one of those kitchen versions of the Tupperware party, with a group of women that I did not know well. Using some of my recently acquired fashion and girly-girl skills I dressed up a smidge. Per our list of must haves for the wardrobe I wore my denim skirt and a simple black top. I wore a little bit of make up (but recall thinking whilst I applied my eye shadow, “What is the purpose of this stuff!”). When I entered the room, I realized immediately I was dressed significantly differently than the other guests that night. Most were very conservative with simple outfits, no makeup and floral patterns.

Very few of the women actively engaged me. (I am now more observant of these things due to this blog, as I look for writing fodder). I felt like the slut who had entered a room of church-goers. It took a while for a few of them to begin chit chatting with me and these were women I have met in the past. None of the new woman I was introduced to spent any time talking to me, and barely attempted to make eye contact. This goes to show you how much of an impression our outfitting creates!

What was I thinking? I was off to buy kitchen utensils…the denim skirt was the wrong call! I would have stood out less wearing pajamas! Then today, I dropped my daughter off for a birthday party. I wore a pair of jeans (not THE pair of jeans, but a suitable pair none-the-less) and a knock-off vintage tee (sort of keeping to the list). My hair was poorly coiffed in a plane jane pony, and my face void of make-up. My fashion sunglasses were poised on the top of my head, and my Brazilian flip-flops completed the look. I usually drop off at these parties and bolt, relishing the few hours of no responsibility afforded by these events. This time though, I stuck around for awhile.

The hostess offered me a glass of wine, which normally I would have refused, due to my bolting history, but instead accepted the proffered refreshment. I immediately regretted my decision. Unlike last night, I was now the most underdressed female. There was makeup, cleavage and accessorizing. At some point during conversation I apologized for my look by letting everyone know I had been gardening.

I have to learn something from these experiences. How do you know how to dress? I can’t look cool all the time, or can I? Did the women at the birthday party look like this all day, or did they prep for the party? Why were the woman at the kitchen party so plainly dressed, it was a party too wasn’t it?

I suppose I have to determine with the look I choose to don for the day, how I would feel if I were to run into someone I know or whom I care about their opinion of me. Take the kitchen party for example. I should have known women interested in kitchen parties were more conservative, and likely more plainly dressed. A pair of jeans and vintage tee would have really been a better choice. On the other hand, the birthday party parents I know to be a social, appearance aware group for the most part. The denim skirt and top would have fit right in. Somehow I got my outfits mixed up. So the Tupperware group thinks I am a slut and the birthday party group thinks I am white trash. I am allowed to use that term, as a former friend once confided in a mutual friend, that my husband and I were a little bit too white trash for her, and not the “kind of” people she wanted to be friends with. Needless to say we are friends no longer. I am still baffled by how I fit into the definition of white trash, and will have to blog about that some day.

Underlying all of this indecision and consternation is the fact that I lack self confidence in wardrobe and outfitting decisions. I am untrained. I grew up very poor and with gross familial dysfunction, and thus lack the necessary experience and self esteem boosting past. I am like the country bumpkin that marries rich and never fits in with the new class because she simply doesn’t speak their language. I am learning much about myself and my preconditioning as I write this blog. As with the Object to Ugly post (about female objectification, or appearance emphasis) I have created an image of what I think I should look like to fit in. Messages over my life time from those more privileged than I both financially and emotionally, have been you are less than me, you don’t do that right or you are not as worthy as I. We all know that woman to woman interactions can be very dodgy. I recall in grade school the popular, middle class girls, mocking me, as the most desired boy in the school had a crush on me, the “little poor girl”. “How can he like someone who wears the same clothes every day??” they taunted. Bitches! I was happy to find one of them working the drive- through window at McDonald’s years later.

I still feel as if I don’t get it right, but I am learning. Part of this journey is about rescuing the little girl I used to be, when I had no control over how I looked or what I wore. I’ll be damned if my children are judged the same way, through no fault of their own. I am imparting these lessons upon my children, most particularly my daughter. I help her outfit and tell her about the importance of brushing her hair and wearing matching clothes.

These last two parties were great learning experiences. From the kitchen party, I now know that certain kinds of parties fit better with certain kinds of clothing. I also came away with some great gadgets to enhance my limited cooking skills, so I’ve got that going for me. If I don’t want the mom’s of my daughters’ peers to think I am a full time gardener, I should probably make an effort when I know I will be seeing them. Oddly, I am not offended by the necessity for this type of thinking. Whether I love it or hate it, judging someone based upon appearances is a thread tightly woven into the fabric of our culture. I am a successful, smart and capable woman. I need to dress the part!