Our son attended one of the first public middle schools that required uniforms. Two basic lines of thought emerged. One, that forcing children into the same clothes was undemocratic, regimental, and not conducive to creativity. Two, that identical outfits would breed school solidarity, alleviate some of the common conflicts such as obvious class differences, and focus attention on more important matters than dress.
For us parents, the uniforms proved convenient. No arguments about what to wear.
Like those middle-schoolers, every few months I pull this uniform from my closet and just get dressed and go.
I could be off to my job waiting tables, a gig on stage, an opera, or a White House ball. Whatever the function, the choices are easy, underneath, unseen.
"Yeah, right," says Virginia. "You don't think people in the know notice whether your suit is off-the-rack or tailored, the plainness of your shirt or its ruffles, or the quality of the bow tie and shoes?"
This country boy has never heard 'em squawk, probably never will.
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