The Skirt

Is winter really over — pants tucked in boots, thick socks, turtleneck, sweater? Can I finally think about ditching the winter uniform?

I seem to remember another article of clothing, something I wore long ago, when days were warmer.

I even have a few of them my closet, relics of another time. Is it my imagination or do they look forlorn, wrinkled with disuse, wondering why it's been so long?

I check the weather. Highs in the 60s, though it's cool now. Still, it's do-able — if I still own a pair of tights anymore, that is.

Only one way to find out.  I'm heading upstairs now to put on a skirt.

(Not this one; it's a dress, anyway!)

Something Up My Sleeve

Spring is trying, but it's still winter here. Bare trees, brisk winds. I probably should wear gloves. But somehow I never remember, or I think I don't need them. So on most of my walks now my hands are balled into fists and pulled up into the sleeves of my old jacket.

This is probably against most exercise maxims: relax, keep your arms loose, shake out. But for better or worse it seems to be my style these days. And I like the idea of gloves at the ready, long sleeves (and this jacket has them) with a soft lining. Some sweat shirts these days are made with thumb holes so my hands are always warm — though wearing them makes me feel like a poorly paid Dickensian clerk.

Still, there is something to be said for being as portable as possible. Do I have something up my sleeve? Absolutely!

House Dress

The house dress was a shapeless garment worn by grandmothers and great aunts. Simple cotton frocks in floral prints, they were what women wore when they didn't plan on going out, when the chores of the day kept them inside, when they would never consider wearing pants.

I heard a radio report the other day on the evolution of the modern home that included this numbing statistic: In the 1920s, the average woman spent about five hours a day in the kitchen. A house dress must have been comfortable attire for scouring the oven, baking bread or running clothes through a wringer. Shapeless and liberating. No girdle required.

No woman I know wears a house dress now, unless you count some modern iterations that have little in common with their frumpy forebears. But I haven't been home five minutes when I run upstairs, slip out of my blazer and trousers and pull on my sweatpants and sweatshirt. Comfortable and shapeless, perfect for cooking, cleaning or doing nothing, they are my house dress.