I do not know what possessed me earlier this year to use my frequent flyer miles to get Vogue magazine. Unlike the others in my pub crawl, I don’t actually read Vogue when it comes. I pull out pages with fragrance samples for the guest bath then toss it in the recycle bin. This month’s issue is no different. Except for two things….the quote under Red-Hot Rihanna that says “I Love To Have Fun” does not match her cover shot. She doesn’t look like she’s having fun at all. She looks pissed off. And hungry.
The other item that caught my attention was an article about the funny business of politics saying Jimmy Fallon and Seth Myer are shaping the political conversation this season. What? Funny, yes. Shaping the conversation? Hardly.
Fashion is not my passion. I do however know a thing or two about having fun. For instance, our trip to Italy was great fun. Sharing the experience here has also been fun. There is still much more to show and tell. We have the entire Amalfi Coast to explore by land and by sea. Also how I was the Amalfi Queen for a day. BUT…It has come to my attention that my writing might have lost its edge and we can’t have that now, can we? This post will hopefully be a nice blend to bring me back to reality without completely ripping me from my happy place.
To do this I had to go back to when I was packing for the trip.
Usually I’m pulling my clothes from the dryer on my way out the door to the airport. This time though, I purchased a few new items. Nothing expensive or fancy, just a few casual dresses that I thought would travel well. Oh, and camouflage my “problem areas.”
For me, shopping for clothes is NO FUN. So, when it came time to do the deed, I went to the mall, a place I loath to go and headed for the one store I can always find something on sale. Macy’s. All but one was by the same maker. The funny thing was that even though each dress I purchased was similar in style and located in the same department, most on the same rack, the sizes varied greatly, and not by a little. They ranged from medium to XL. Weird.
I don’t have to tell you that they were made outside the U.S. I wonder how much this affects not only the sizing, but also my attitude toward shopping. I never disliked buying clothes so much in my life as I do now. Even when it became clear that I could no longer wear sizes which people (women) usually brag about fitting into, I didn’t have the negative reaction I now do. Now I’d rather have a root canal.
After high school and before the military, I worked briefly at a Wrangler blue jean plant. First the night shift in shipping and receiving, then as inspector #63. Those jeans didn’t say Wrangler ‘til I said they said Wrangler. My job was to make sure both legs where the same length, the zipper zipped, the size on the label matched the actual measurements of the garment and that the pockets weren’t sewn shut. It happens. Anyway, it paid the bills and I learned some important lessons while working there. One of which was that I definitely didn’t want to do that for the rest of my life.
We keep hearing a lot of talk about how manufacturing jobs need to come home. We also hear a lot of angry rhetoric about illegal immigrants taking our jobs. I have to wonder if they aren’t doing the jobs no one else wants to do. I also wonder if paying a premium so that all of my dresses are the same size, is more than any of is willing to pay. Fanning the flames of discontent just for fun won’t fix the very real problems we must face together after the election headlines hit the recycle bin. We all have bills to pay. Even Rihanna has to keep the lights on. She really needs to put some food on the table.
Go Hog Wild! This Land Was Made For You & Me!