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In Defence of Uniform Dressing

This week, Kate Middleton made her first public appearance since the birth of her daughter, wearing skinny jeans and a striped top like a normal, clothes-wearing person. So obviously, the media went bananas: not only was Kate wearing the very clothes she seemingly fit into before having another baby (gasp!), she was in what could best be described as her royal uniform: slim-fitting pants, an equally fitted top, and flat shoes. The Kate Middleton special. Seen also at your local J. Crew.

But since the media was focused more on her body than what was on it (can you believe her post-baby figure, everybody? CAN YOU?), they failed to notice that the Duchess was keeping it refreshingly real: wearing blue, wearing denim, and eclipsing even her son’s Crocs in the process, she stuck to the pieces she clearly feels comfortable in. Which, as a human woman who wears clothes daily, I can understand completely.

Comfort and laziness are the upsides of a definitive uniform. But first, calm down: as a person who spent five years of her working life in McDonalds, Shoe Company, Future Shop, Keg, and Rona uniforms (and then even more spent adhering to a strict American Eagle dress code), I recognize the knee-jerk reaction upon hearing some writer sing the praises of wearing the same thing every day. I spent two years wearing a smock and safety boots. I know how boring “the same” can be.

But that’s the thing about uniform dressing: it’s not a question of wearing the same thing every day. (Because we’re not The Simpsons, much as we wish we were.) What uniform dressing serves to do is exploit the pieces you feel amazing in, and then allow you to wear versions of those pieces on a regular basis. It frees you from trends. It reserves your right not to be in or out of style. It justifies your need to buy several pairs of the same pants (potentially in different colours), and it makes your wardrobe interchangeable, which gives you more time to do other things -- or more space for the same cuts of various t-shirts (in an array of materials). It injects you with confidence if you’re not somebody who finds said confidence through aesthetic experimentation.

Because the thing about honing an eclectic fashion sense is that it takes work, and not everyone is built to put energy into that type of work. The older I get, the less I’m inclined to try a new type of pant, and the more I’ll bulk up on the same cut from the same store, just in case they end up going on final sale and disappearing forever. I know I don’t like tank tops. I know I’d rather wear a roomy t-shirt or sweatshirt or something that involves both. Button-up short-sleeved blouses look terrible on me, and I will never attempt one again. All my shoes -- minus anything wedding-appropriate -- are flat and of the running variety. I like all coats. If I do wear a heel, I have to be able to move in it. And one time I tried to wear a cape and my arms kept getting stuck. Somehow, I morphed into my own version of normcore, and now, sitting here in skinny jeans and a three-quarter length sweatshirt, I am wearing a uniform again. And I’m more than okay with it.

Frankly, to judge based on a person’s unwillingness to stray from what they feel good in is none of our business. What anybody chooses to wear at all isn’t really any of our business. So to scrutinize based on wardrobe staples and/or an eternal capsule collection is just as embarrassing as judging somebody for wearing feathers. Uniform dressing is just another means of expression -- and part of that expression may be, “I just want to wear what I like, man.”

So here’s to Kate Middleton obviously finding her style groove. My only hang-up? That George continues to wear Crocs through adulthood. No insult to comfort, but they’re like flip-flops, you guys: a bad idea.

[atdatyahoo]

10 Things We Learned From “Degrassi”

On Thursday, it was announced that after 14 seasons, “Degrassi’s” reign will come to an end. And with the the last episodes scheduled to start airing on July 20, this news is sad. Not only did “Degrassi” give us Drizzy Drake and Paige’s passive-aggressive-but-more-specifically terrifying “hun,” it was a cornerstone of Canadian television, serving up cold, hard reality in the form of teen drama.

So to say we didn’t learn anything from the series is to be blasphemous. And to prove it, here are 10 of the most poignant lessons we took from that infamous high school.

1. Reboots can work

When “Degrassi: The Next Generation” debuted in 2001, we franchise die-hards were cynical: could these random people replace Spike, Joey Jeremiah, Snake, and everybody else? (I’m not about to start listing the cast list, you guys -- that’s what IMDB is for.) The answer? Of course not. But “Degrassi’s” new actors carved out their own spaces, helping to make the show its own bankable franchise. (Bless.)

2. “Hun” is the most condescending thing you can say to a personMaybe it’s the way Paige (Lauren Collins) said it. Maybe it’s because I’ve been called it too many times by various customer service associates. Maybe it’s because I tried to make it a term of endearment back in high school. But who cares: how dare everyone who says it. How dare you say “hun” to me or to anybody. How dare you. (Hun.)

3. Without Wheelchair Jimmy, there’d be no Drake

Because to play a character who’s been shot in the back and lost the use of his legs requires exactly as much emotion as writing and performing every song on Take Care. And that’s just a fact.

4. Teen drama is the most compelling kind

The issues “Degrassi” dealt with were very real: sexual assault, sexuality in general, violence, bullying -- you name it. But the fact that we (as grown-ass viewers) remember the ins and outs of “Degrassi’s” alumni is just a testament to how powerful the series was. Teen dramas matter, and this one was just further proof of that.

5. “Hide and Seek” matters most when applied to Jimmy

I’m sorry, but Marissa Cooper has nothing on this.

6. Degrassi would be a nightmare high school, IRL

We love “Degrassi” the show, and we know Degrassi is based out of a real school in a real city. But if Degrassi was a real, live place, it would be hell. It would be nothing short of hell. High school -- in general -- is usually hell. But this high school is the academic equivalent of Seattle Grace: it is a place where the worst case scenario happens all the time.  Hell. And no parent would send their child there because whatever they were afraid of happening, would happen. A million times.

7. Closure is overrated

Out of every “Degrassi” episode, less than one ended with a neat, tidy, “we did it, guys!” wrap up. And for that, we must all be grateful. First, because life doesn’t offer closure, so get over it, Rachel Green. Second, because it kept us intrigued. “Degrassi” was the TV equivalent of somebody answering “maybe” when you ask if they’re mad at you. And we just kept coming back for more.

8. Degrassi might be a cursed place, though

I mean, not to go back to this, but think about everything that happened during “Degrassi Junior High” and “Degrassi High.” Then, think about everything that happened in the first four years of “Degrassi” alone. The school is damned. It is a harbour of doom. Not even “Heathers” would be interested in attending.

9. The only cure for the drama of “Degrassi” is “Wheels, Ontario”

The follow-up drama masterminded by Nick Kroll.

Even though he’s wrong: people in Toronto do tuck-in their blouses.

10. But seriously: Canadian television can/does resonate

As Canadians, we’re not kind to Canadian TV. But the success and longevity of “Degrassi” served as a reminder that our cultural landscape consists of more than just “Dragon’s Den” repeats. We’re capable of making good and interesting television. (See: “Schitt’s Creek.”) And what’s even better, is that we validated the teen experience through said television, which is what makes “Degrassi” so important.

[atdatyahoo]

Summer Office Dress Codes

Well, obviously.

Summer Office Dress Codes

Anne T. Donahue

It’s that time of year: the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and you have absolutely no idea what to wear to work.

Of course, this is common. With changing trends come changing dress codes, and it can be easy to want to roll out of bed wearing the Beyonce concert t-shirt you haven’t taken off since Saturday morning, hoping a bucket hat brings it all together.

But it won’t. Not just because a bucket hat will bring nothing together (other than masses of people dressed up for a Breaker High re-enactment) (spoiler alert: they are all Jimmy), but because as grown-ass citizens, it’s up to us to learn how to wear clothes in a professional way.

Naturally, there are different definitions for “professional.” Case in point: I worked in retail for ten years, so it was professional for me to wear low-rise jeans and flip-flops because that’s what we were selling. Before that, it was professional for me to wear anything that looked good with safety boots and an oversize vest. But could you wear those things in a lawyer’s office? A hospital? A regular office with a dress code that’s like, “No tube tops, please?” No. But just in case you’re confused about what you can wear and, well, where, I’ve got it all figured out.

I’m here for you, survivors of office highrise air conditioning.

Should you wear:

A bucket hat?

No. I actually can’t believe you’re asking me this five seconds after I just told you it won’t fix your life, and I’m sorry. (I’m apologizing to myself.)

A tube top?

So we’re pretending we’re working in an everyday, professional, 9-5 office? Yes? Okay, so no. I like you, I’m sure your shoulders are great, but tube tops are questionable on a regular day outside of work (see: I can’t wear them without looking very disproportionate myself), if your workday involves video calls, you will 100% look shirtless (regardless of gender) and the person on the other end has probably not signed up for that.

Flip-flops?

Flip-flops are unhygienic and bad for your back, but hey: if that’s the game you’re willing to play, I’m sorry but you still can’t wear them to work because that sound -- that sound -- will ruin the psyches of everyone around you and everyone you will ever meet. This isn’t Abercrombie. And even if it was, I still stand by everything I just said.

Shorts?

Terrific question! Here’s a very vague answer: it depends. Are they of “dress code” material? Are they long enough? Are they ironed? Are you wearing a fancy top with it? Are you wearing shoes or a sandal that isn’t a flip-flop? If the shorts have pockets, that brings me to my next point.

Cargo shorts?

Only if you can name five things you have carried in those pockets. And all five have to work and/or office-related.

Graphic t-shirts?

So it’s not a dress-down day, and your fellow employees are hanging out in button-downs and maybe polos? Some nice slacks? Skirts? Okay, great! Then nope, no way, absolutely not. You could wear basically any other shirt (minus tube and tank) and look more pulled together than if you were to waltz into an accountant’s place, wearing a t-shirt with a pun about beer. We know you’re funny. Your emails are witty and great. You don’t need to wear it on your t-shirt in this moment because I’m sorry, you could probably tell the joke better at a later date and not have to advertise your brand of humour via cotton-blend. Tweet, friend. Go forth.

Tank tops?

This question has a million answers, none of which I am prepared to answer here. So I’ll make it easy: ask your boss, because tank tops can mean a lot of things, and my main advice is just to avoid a lot of mesh.

Mesh?

What did I just say. (Though I mean, maybe. Mesh can be cool. Who am I to judge?)

Anything that makes me look like Christian Grey?

If you or anyone you cares about begins to look like Christian Grey, call the police immediately and move that person to a yurt, where they can recover. Administer bucket hats, graphic t-shirts, and flip-flops at will. Encourage the phrase, “Hang loose.”

A graphic t-shirt that says “hang loose”?

Well, obviously.

[atdatyahoo]

The Question of Age

We’re talking about age a lot this week. First, because rumours and reports have surfaced that Rebel Wilson actually lied about her own, and then because Maggie Gyllenhaal recently told The Wrap that at 37, she’d been deemed “too old” to play the love interest of a 50-something-year-old man. (Gross.) So yeah: ageism is alive and well. Which means that if Wilson did lie about her age, then Gyllenhaal’s account actually explains why.

Most importantly, lest we forget that Wilson’s age is none of our business. Despite our interest in and/or obsession with celebrity culture, the backstories or personal lives of people we don’t know has nothing to do with anybody but themselves (minus abuse/assault allegations because those have victims). Which means that whether Wilson is 29 as claimed or 35 as she’s been “accused” of has nothing to do with her ability to make us laugh and do her job. Would we still have seen her in “Pitch Perfect” if she we knew she was (allegedly) in her thirties? I hope so. Especially since the entire point of acting is to break away from your real-life identity and to take on the persona of somebody else. (Because spoiler alert: Wilson isn’t Fat Kimmy because Fat Kimmy is a fictional character who isn’t real.)

So really, the conversation should go something like this: Did Wilson lie about her age? Who cares. It’s the question of why anybody needs to.

“There are things that are really disappointing about being an actress in Hollywood that surprise me all the time,” Gyllenhaal said in her interview. “I’m 37 and I was told recently I was too old to play the lover of a man who was 55. It was astonishing to me. It made me feel bad, and then it made me feel angry, and then it made me laugh.”

So there it is: the pressure to lie about one’s age in Hollywood is a sad, disappointing reflection of the industry’s disinterest in women born before a certain year. And this isn’t news -- everyone from Cate Blanchett to Amy Schumer has spoken out against the ageism in show business, with the latter having recently aired “The Last F---able Day,” a sketch that takes aim at the sexist and ageist mindset of producers and casting directors (and I’m sure actors and viewers and anyone in between). Frankly, it’s been implied and said and practiced a million different ways: female entertainers have an expiry date, and it’s as simple as that.

Which is why you can/should understand Wilson’s decision (or not -- again, she hasn’t made an official statement) to tread lightly and keep the inevitable ageism at bay. We live in a world in which men are timeless, and women are a ticking time clock. We pair men up with uncomfortably younger co-stars, then cast age-appropriate women as mothers or sexless beings. And by doing this, we send the message that if you’re a woman and you want to act/joke/entertain, it better happen before you’re over 30. And we tell female viewers that there’s one acceptable way to look: young.

So did Wilson lie about her age? Who cares. What we should care about is why we’ve accepted ageism for as long as we have, and what we can do to stop dismantling it. First-hand accounts like Maggie Gyllenhaal’s? That’s one hell of a start.

[atdatyahoo]

What Harry Shearer’s “Simpsons” Departure Is Like

The worst possible thing on this planet has happened: Harry Shearer (the voice of Ned Flanders, Principal Skinner, and Mr. Burns -- among others) is leaving Springfield. Or more specifically, after more than 25 years as a voice wizard, Shearer is walking away from “The Simpsons” because he wants to do other work.

And look -- we get it. (I say, pretending the casts of “Family Guy” and “Bob’s Burgers” and “BoJack Horseman” all don’t have full-time gigs outside their animated job.) Maybe he’s having a crisi-tunity. Maybe Shearer is ready to brach out and open his own Uncle Moe’s Family Feedbag. Maybe he just wants to follow Martin’s lead and also be Queen of Summertime. (Who doesn’t?)

Regardless, the only way we can articulate how his soon-to-be-absence makes us all is by comparing it to other “Simpsons” moments. So, without further adieu, here’s what we think Harry Shearer’s departure is like:

- Krusty replacing “Itchy and Scratchy” with “Worker and Parasite”

- Armand Tamzarian

- Kirk drawing “dignity.”

- The song, “Can I Borrow A Feeling”

- Darla lying about needing to change wigs 

- The wig outlet that replaced the World’s Fair

- Homer’s first visit to New York City

- Homer’s second visit to New York City

- Mountain Dew

- The suckiest bunch of sucks that ever sucked

- Moe removing “It’s Raining Men” from the jukebox

- The food poisoning that prevented Homer from visiting Duff Gardens

- Lisa’s reaction to the Duff Gardens river water

- Being the Lizard Queen

- Homer’s rivalry with George Bush

- Living above a bowling alley and below another bowling alley

- Lisa’s Florida costume

- The moment Ralph’s heart broke in half

- The absence of Mr. Bergstrom

- Uncle Moe’s Family Feedbag

- Lisa needing braces

- Lisa getting her first pair of braces

- A lack of “any” key

- ‘Lil Lisa’s Slurry

- “Can I come too?”

- When Homer sat on the hood of his car in the desert, sadly gazing up at the stars

Yes, I left it on a dark note. (Harry, come back.) (And you reading this: add more.)