Monday, April 30, 2007
Corporate standards for sartorial elegance are on a steady downward spiral and while Milady's Boudoir may offer solace to the discerning, I may actually preferred a uniformity that is perhaps a throwback to happier days. The advent of the rather ignorantly named "knowledge workers" has hastened the departure of the day where a toddler could tell by your clothes you wore whether you were going to work or for a haircut. For the assiduous hangers-on of Generation Lost have scant regard for dressing up and strive to keep up their pretense of intellectual work, largely consisting of staring at their online jailbird personas accompanied by an unkempt appearance.
Two particular aspects of this phenomenon have afflicted me lately in differing ways. The first is an abject negation of all forms of footwear in office hours , while at one's desk or moving around. While one can empathize with a need to feel one's paws on thickly carpeted expanses, it can be rather disconcerting to have this sprung on you without warning. This is more pronounced in ladies than in gentlemen & I now feel that the days of gauging the worth of an individual by the shoes he wore are safely behind us. Still, there is the lingering thought that there must be some material difference between canines and humans, even if the blessed creatures cannot actually ego-surf and dream in lieu of work.
As for the other, I would readily admit my complete inadequacy while dissecting its physical, moral or philosophical repercussions. For what is now a recurring feature is that lasses who should know better, leave a strand of undergarment peeking out from beneath . Yes, there has been a preponderance of this in cinema, most notably employed by an actress simulating a middle-class background in the absence of any acting talent, or elsewhere to depict other domestic states . I am unsure of the reasons but can posit that in office hours, this is just short of scandalous.
So Hey Lasses, watch it !