|"Dear Miss, have you confused me with your gynecologist?|
I realize it must be confusing as this dirty street corner
looks a lot like a doctor's office."
I remember quite clearly that there seemed to be a uniform for the bar-bound sluts and poser sluts when I was in my college years. It is from this point on to be known as the “ho-niform.” They all wore the same thing – maybe because they all lived together in their enormous sorority houses. (Everyone should go to a Big Ten school. They are AWESOME. I’m not kidding). They even dressed alike when they went out to brunch hung over: tight work out pants and a North Face fleece. If you were going to frat parties or to the bars you were careful not to wear too much clothing, both for practical inner core temperature maintenance purposes and also so that you didn’t stick out as THAT girl in wool body armor. My idea of “hooching it up” was to wear a strapless top and a skirt or a low cut shirt and skirt, but always maintaining a level of class. The ho-niform at that time was usually tight black pants and a really skimpy top. One really popular style they had in a local boutique was something reminiscent of that napkin they clip over you at the dentist so you don’t get spit on your shirt. It was basically that, but made out of something silky and printed with a tie at the neck.
I thought these girls looked SUPER trashy, but they felt good about themselves and would still be able to get a PG-13 rating by the Motion Picture Association so my opinions were really inconsequential. As long as you are not hurting me, I will not judge you. I will, at the very least, try to be quiet about it.
On Saturday, my dear friend Elizabeth and I went out for a ladies’ night. We dressed up and treated ourselves to dinner, dessert, and drinks. Apparently, we have already transitioned to elderly people dining and drinking hours because we were almost alone in the lounge at the W Hotel for our first drink. Thankfully, some entertainment did start to arrive halfway through our stay. We eyed some questionable outfits, but most of the patrons were tastefully covered. I think age may have been a factor.
We don’t get out very much. The whole having-to-drive-a-half-hour-into-the-city thing sort of makes it difficult to go out on the weekends. (Additionally, we both really enjoy the comfort of a couch). The fact that we were out past 10 pm was a bit remarkable. I am so glad we made it that late, otherwise we would have missed out on an amazing treat. Little did I know just how much the ho-niform had evolved since I had left Indiana only six years prior.
Elizabeth and I turned the corner to walk towards the car and literally started simultaneously losing our shit in horror and astonishment – tapping each other furiously, quietly mumbling “pink dress, pink dress, pink dress, pink dress,” quickly quivering heads back and forth….it was like we had been instantly infected with a central nervous system disorder. ALLLLLL because of the new ho-niform. The gaggle of twenty something girls in front of us may have called what they were wearing dresses. I call what they were wearing crotchless leotards. Accessorized with hooker heels from Bakers.
What is going on in the world? Women have been showing people their boobs for years. Sometimes for plastic beads. Sometimes just so they can brag about being on Girls Gone Wild. Big Deal. But the bottom half? This is unacceptable. There is a modicum of class that seems to have been lost on this generation. I can’t put my finger on how it got this way. Maybe in trying to be accepting of everyone, we are not being judgmental enough in the right arenas. I saw plenty of trashy rock stars growing up and yet still knew that wasn’t how I was supposed to fix myself to go out. And while I think the word “harlot” sounds nice, I do know I don’t want to dress like one. Part of me wanted to knock their wristlets out of their hands just so they would have to bend over and pick them up. The fabric they wore barely met the bottom of their tushy cheeks while standing straight. This aversion can’t be because I’m getting older. I admit, it is happening, but I’m only approaching 31!!!! And to think, I was walking around with very short shorts clandestinely hidden under my dangerously short black ruffled dress, just in case I fell down. These girls were definitely not wearing shorts under their lycra top half body wraps. So if this is what has happened to the ho-niform in just six years, where is it going next???
I’m almost afraid to ask that question. Perhaps people are going to just stop wearing clothes. Somehow, I feel like that wouldn’t be provocative enough for the young folk. Perhaps they will wear knee socks a belt and a scarf. Maybe they will paint on underpants with finger paint. Or they could make garments out of cling wrap. I’m voting for clothing though. And respect. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could teach our young ones a little something about self-respect? And while we’re at it, how about some respect for the people around them? I can’t imagine someone’s poor Grandpa coming out of the opera and walking into one of those ladies in ho-niform. He’d have a heart attack.