Brookwrite

A dressing down

by Doug Brook
Deep South Jewish Voice Columnist

So, whatcha wearin'? *wink*

Really. What are you wearing right now? And where are you?

If you're reading the newspaper in the bathroom, we'd all rather you not answer. Of course, I'll have to assume that any of you who don't answer are in the bathroom. Hopefully I'll figure a way around that image and rewrite this paragraph before it goes to press.

Anyway, what were you wearing twelve hours ago, and where were you then? (If you're like me, it takes a minute to remember such things. We'll wait. Remember now? Good.) What were you wearing last time you went to temple (synagogue, not the university in Philadelphia), and where were you then? (Don't remember? Too bad. We waited once.)

When you were where you were of whence I inqwhired of you, were you dwessed appwopwiately? Of course, you probably think so, whether you were or not. But don't let your opinion influence your answer.

What does dressing appropriately mean? Contrary to what you might think, it has nothing to do with your salad and diet. But when it comes to wardrobe choices, these days, appropriateness means very little to very many out there. (Of course, I couldn't possibly be referring to you. I must be talking about those other two readers.)

When I was growing up, when Britney Spears and her midriff were both a romantic evening away from being thought up, you had to dress up to go to services. Boys could be boys, as long as they were wearing pants (not jeans), a shirt with buttons (not pins), a jacket or sweater, heavens forbid a tie and, in my case, a muzzle.

They also had to keep quiet, not kick their brother, and not snore during the sermon... so I guess boys couldn't really be boys. But at least they were in the sanctuary. Though I don't know why we couldn't snore during the sermon like everyone else.

I don't remember what girls had to wear. I didn't notice. I was too young to be a boy being a boy like they boys are boys these days. But I know that back then their clothes were made of more cloth than my clip-on tie.

It's not that kids ("totally independent adults", in Modern Kidspeak) are incapable of dressing up. It seems likely that kids who can learn (or even pretend) a Torah reading can figure out two sleeves and a Windsor knot. Not convinced? Have you noticed that while guys and dolls, who aren't old enough to really be called either, come as they are for Saturday morning services, they dress to impress for the party Saturday night?

Of course, some of them are formally undressed to impress, and we don't need that Saturday morning either, but that's where they focus. It's not until they reach their mid- to late twenties that they'll actually think the service itself is the place to catch someone's eye.

This is not just an exclusively Jewish problem, either. (So many that seem like they are, really aren't.) Walk into a church someday. After you rub your newly bruised nose, you'll see just as many MTV hopefuls at the church as at a bar mitzvah pre-party (KidSpeak for "the bar mitzvah service").

And it's not limited to houses of worship. Go to the theatre (where many worship the gods of comedy and tragedy, but don't get the same tax status as churches, temples, mosques, or WeightWatchers). How many people there are dressed up? Even if you don't like coat and tie, are jeans okay for the lower orchestra (the seating area near the stage, not the cello section)? When did this happen? When did we start to dress the same for a pops concert as a Stones concert? Remember when people dressed up to fly? To go to dinner? Visit relatives? Go to movies? Football games? Dates? Reading this column?

What about work? Maybe I've been in California too long, but more workplaces let more people dress more casually. Compound this with the advent of telecommuting (Yiddish for "pretending to work from home"), and you can actually do your work from home wearing nothing but one holey sock and a smile. And nobody would know the difference. Or want to.

Hell, I'm writing this column right now wearing one-and-a-half socks, a scarf, and a wristwatch. Of course, today's Tuesday and I only telecommute on Fridays, so it's a good thing my office door is closed.

Some people want to be comfortable when before the neon gods they pray. People who wear three-piece suits want to be comfortable on their day of rest.

Is all this informality bad? (Of course, I mean beyond the impact on The Men's Wearhouse's quarterly earnings.) That is in the eye of the beholder. But, as the byline says, I AM the beholder. And I say yes. It's bad. Why? Two words: "respect." (What's the second word? "Respect" again. I really mean it.)

We do this in the name of being comfortable. There's great comfort to be found in laziness. We accept it because at least we're happy to get "those people" in the door at all at services, theatre, opera, airplanes, in our workplaces, and family gatherings. But our acquiescence at a minimum fosters it, and could do much more.

Give an inch, and they'll take a mile of fabric out of their wardrobes, going out in a skirt that you think looks like a belt.

Is this the most serious societal problem today? Probably not. Is it a fixable one? Yes, unless it's really already too late. Would it make tomorrow better? At a minimum, it would make tomorrow look better. And not just because we'd be dressed nicer.

What does "respect" mean? No, it does not mean to spect again. If you need it spelled out for you, check out one of Aretha Franklin's big hit songs from the more formal days of yore. Find out what it means to her, and sock it to her.

Doug Brook is a technical writer in Silicon Valley. His play Retrograde, available in the 8 Tens @ 8 Festival anthology, recently had its professional New York premiere on 42nd Street. For more information, past columns, other writings, and other current events, visit his website at http://brookwrite.com/.