Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts
By Alyce Wilson
October 16, 2003 - Reunion Countdown
A week from tomorrow is my high school class 15th reunion. I've decided I'm going. Today I got confirmation of my reservation in the mail, along with directions to the post-homecoming game party at the class president's house.
Now the main problem is figuring out what to wear.
I got my hair cut this week and talked to my stylist about it, explaining that I had a terrific pine green silk camisole but needed something to go with it.
"Would you wear pants?" she asked.
As soon as she said that, I remembered this pair of black velvety pants I bought up in Vermont. They would be perfect, I decided. Then last night I dug through my trunk until I found the black velvet, long-sleeved button-up top I'd put away during the warm weather. It would be perfect to wear over the camisole, especially if the room gets cold. But I can also take it off and show off my hard-earned musculature in my shoulders.
But this is only one-third of the battle. I still have to determine what to wear to the homecoming game and post-game party, and then what to wear to the Saturday tour of the renovations to the high school. Both of these are casual events, but I'll be darned if I'm just going to wear jeans.
I toyed with the idea of digging out my old high school band jacket -- which will most likely fit again -- but I thought that would just be a little sad. Instead, I'll have to comb through my wardrobe for the right blend of casual and classy. The goal is to come up with an outfit that says, "I'm relaxed, but chic."
Guys have trouble understanding this concept, because to a guy, dressing up means wearing a shirt with a collar. It doesn't matter if it's a button-down shirt or a polo shirt; if it's got a collar, it's dressy, according to men.
Sometimes I envy them their simplicity. But the truth is, if I was a guy I'd go simply mad. I wouldn't want to be relegated to a strict palette of grays and blues and maybe, if you're feeling daring, red. Boring, dahling.
My method of coming up with an outfit is similar to my sister's:
- Pull clothes out of the closet and try them on.
- Look in the mirror, pensively.
- Scowl.
- Whip the offending clothes off and drop them on the floor or the bed.
- Repeat step one.
Sometimes, by the time you're done, you end up picking up the first outfit and trying it on again. Sometimes, it even looks better.
It's always amusing when I visit my sister, because I've already gone through the process of selecting my outfits for the weekend's activities. This means I just whip out my carefully selected outfits and watch her go through the dance.
She asked me recently why I was going to my reunion, given how frustrating I found the last one I attended. I told her I was hoping to reconnect with some old friends, maybe get back in touch with people and catch up. The truth is partly that, and partly because I feel a need for a sense of closure. I'm a different person than I was five years ago at the last reunion. I've matured a lot, through life experience and through counseling. I feel as if going to this reunion, relaxing and having a good time, will help me to finally put to rest any of the bad self-esteem that stemmed from high school.
High expectations, I know, and not ones I felt like sharing with my sister, who would have clicked her tongue and told me that I was expecting too much. But I don't expect very much from anybody but myself. I fully expect that everyone might be the same as last time -- sticking to their cliques and their high school attitudes.
But this time, I believe, I've grown enough to take it in stride. I'm going to take my digital camera along and take copious mental notes for writing it up later.
Life is an adventure, right? Hmmm... How about this shirt?
(looks in the mirror pensively before whipping off the offending shirt to try again)
More thoughts on my 15th reunion:
September 4, 2003 - Reunion Plotting
September 10, 2003 - Reunion Snag
October 24, 2003 - Idle Thoughts
October 29, 2003 - My Old School
October 30, 2003 - Catching Up
Moral:
It's the inner makeovers that matter.
Copyright
2003 by Alyce Wilson
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