For the next few weeks, we'll be seeing magnets from Ned & Marta's refrigerator door.
Here are some of my theatre reviews, if you're interested.
WHAT I'M READING...
WHAT I WATCHED...
That's it for today!
27 April 2001
The woman was tall. She wore a long red brocade dress and had sparkly earrings. She walked steadily on high heels.
Behind her a pudgy couple in jeans and black leather jackets hugged each other.
A man who looked like a blue collar worker slouched in a corner, a weathered leather beret on his head, his zippered jacket halfway open. His companion was a balding gentleman in a 3-piece suit.
A bird-like blue-haired matron clutched a fur piece around her shoulders as she quickly walked up to meet her partner, a tall man in a politically correct blue suit and power tie.
They passed in parade--formal attire, casual attire, silk, denim, heels, tennis shoes, carefully coiffed, just barely brushed, make up, no make up. Some women wore hats.
I was wearing the clothes I’d had on all day--casual black pants, and a white long-sleeved shirt, and clunky Easy Spirit shoes with wombat socks. At the last minute, I’d added a scarf and a pearl scarf holder to look a little more fancy.
We were all standing in the lobby of Davies Hall in San Francisco, preparing to hear the San Francisco Symphony perform.
As we stood there, I marveled at how attitudes about dress have changed in my 58 years. During my childhood and adolescence, nobody would consider going "downtown" to the big department stores, without "dressing up." I remember a time when this even included wearing gloves (oh how claustrophobic gloves made me feel!) and a hat.
There is a photo of me, walking with my grandparents in front of Macy*s in downtown San Francisco. I am wearing a hat and white patent leather shoes and a purse, my grandfather is in a dark suit with a hat (do men wear hats any more)? The photo was taken by a sidwalk photographer (do they have those any more?) who used to stand outside the fancy stores and photograph people walking down the street.
Even when I was in high school, I wouldn’t dream of going downtown without dressing up--at least in nylons and probably heels. I may have given up on the hat by then.
Now it seems anything goes. Anywhere. Even the San Francisco opera, that last bastion of propriety is a mixed bag of dress--everything from the old dowagers in their tiaras to the young folks in their jeans.
I have to admit that the older I get, the less it really matters to me about proper dress. The day I discovered that wearing clunky shoes meant my feet never had to hurt again, all bets were off as far as "fashion" was concerned!
No entry tomorrow (4/28). I'll be back at Stanford with Steve. He's participating in a workshop on death and dying and I'm his Northern California driver, hand-holder, and general flunky. Should be interesting; no suite at the faculty club this time; we're sharing a motel room. But they say it's "cute."
year ago 4/28:
Some pictures from this
Created 4/25/01 by Bev Sykes