After my teaching career closed, my teacher outfits hung lonely and unworn in the bedroom closet. Ties, dress shirts, slacks, sportcoats. For years I wore ties. Five years or so before the end, I switched to longsleeve mock turtlenecks, slacks, and sportcoats, inspired by photographs of the late French poststructualist philosopher, Michel Foucault.
In Syria, I learned from my students that the Syrian wives and mothers take their fashion very seriously, but inversely from their Western counterparts. They complain that American women dress beautifully when they leave their homes and wander the outside world, looking gorgeous for strange men, but at home with their husbands they slouch in sweatpants, no makeup, hair tied up for convenience. They dress like models walking the city streets, admired by every cringy creep they pass, but dress like slobs for the men they love? So Syrian women dress their best within the warmth of their own homes.
Of course, this view of Amerian women choosing their proper attire for the hours of the day is shortsighted and rather unfair, and shows that many women in cultures define and justify large parts of their identity and appearence through the approving or disapproving lens of men. At the workplace, people are expected to dress professionally (though even fashion standards have, what's the word...evolved...?)
I remember an old friend posting on social media (when I used social media; furthermore, before I closed my Facebook, I had to drop him as a "friend" because he splattered my feed with memes announcing "Only 237 days till Christmas!" all year long). He once posted that as soon as he's home from work around 5pm, he immediately slips into jammies. This is horrifying to me. I guess I'd like to keep up the illusion that I could be ready to go out like my younger years and not be closed down for the evening, so I remain fully dressed, though in jeans and a T-shirt.
But I've rethought the Syrian women's approach, and recently, in a way, I've followed suit. After the workday is done, afternoon chores completed, dog walked, even dinner started, I get out of my grubs, and don my professional attire. Some nice pullover sweaters I've rediscovered, button-down shirts (no ties--I don't descend stairways at Downton Abbey), and even slacks, which are very comfortable, unlike jeans which feel heavy. I'm not dressing up for my wife's devoted gaze, even though she cheers the upgrade, but to contribute to the elegant time and space we create for outselves during out evenings together. Sitting in the living room with wine or beer and music drifting lightly in the background, we discuss our day, and finish with candlelit dinners. We make every night a special occasion. And why not: time's running out.
I'm sure Oscar Wilde nods his approval.
