I remember nearing the end of the eight grade school year, there was a lot of bustle and hype about the upcoming yearbook. There was even a yearbook committee. I so wanted to be on the committee, but the class nominated and voted on the students who would hold the honor of committing our senior year to paper. I wasn’t even in the running. Needless to say, I wasn’t going to be named “most popular”.
The girl who sat in front of me was selected to be on the committee. For the purpose of this story, I’ll call her Patricia…because that was her name. I don’t remember which other students made the committee. But I have always remembered Patricia, and the reason being is this; when the yearbook came out and everyone’s fate was determined in ink beneath their photograph, Patricia’s read Most Fashionable.
“Huh?” was my initial reaction. And even now, decades later, it is still a head scratcher. You see, Patrica and I went to Catholic school, where everyone wore the same uniform, right down to the socks and shoes. How in the hell can one person be more fashionable than the rest when they are all dressed exactly the same? I’ll tell you how. She was on the committee and wanted to deem herself as such. And so she did.
I wonder whatever became of Patricia. Fashion model…designer…editor of Vogue? Because with that eighth grade credential (albeit self assigned), I’m sure she grew up to secure a grand career in the world of high end fashion.
Or maybe she is waitressing at Applebees and color coordinating her hair clip to her polo shirt. I Googled her and came up empty. Wherever she is, I am sure she is the most fashionable one in the room.
What does this all matter to me now, thirty years later? Not a hell of a lot, I suppose. It’s just that I find myself a lot of the time wondering if I take this pajama mommy thing too far. I mean, there are days I pick my kid up from school wearing something I wouldn’t have been caught outside in before becoming a mom. I guess my priorities have shifted.
Not that I have ever been fashionable. Far from it. I’ve always had my own style, without ever actually being in style. I guess the closest I’ve ever been to being fashionable was when I wore my eighth grade uniform. That was the last time I dressed the same as the rest of the kids were doing.
And in case you were wondering, I was voted Most Lively.
For more about my fashion woes, check out the latest humor column from Pajama Mommy, Fashion Weak.
