Skirtathon: You've won me over.

I was forced to wear tights to church as a young girl. I'm pretty sure my generation will be the last to withstand this horrible infraction of justice, but nonetheless, it occurred. (And Umma, I still have beef with you about the few times I recall wearing bonnets). Hideous things, bonnets.

Perhaps you've sensed my opinion on the subject. By the time I was eight, anything I was forced to wear for Sunday morning services became a point of contention for me. This included patent leather mary-janes (black for before Easter, white for after) tights, and dresses (think Laura Ashley except we didn't buy name brand).

As soon as we moved and we attended a church in which quite a few women wore pants (the horror!), I was ecstatic. I pursued the topic with the parental units vigorously.  I didn't fight with them about going to church, but I do remember the why-can't-we-wear-jeans-to-the-Sunday-night-service discussions.

My point? I was born a casual dresser. And I like pants. Occasionally, I do choose to grace people with my pale chicken legs by sporting a dress. But this is an infrequent gift.

Enter: My current roommate, Kristen. Kristen, as we say, likes to come correct. She puts extensive thought into her clothing choices and the appropriate level of dress required for each circumstance. If she were writing this, she would probably say that the difference between our choice of attire has a lot to do with class structure and racial constructs. But she's not here...so I'll just say that sometimes when I come out of my room already dressed, I circle back to change after seeing her outfit.

In 2005, my roommate started Skirtathon. Here's a quick rundown of the Skirtathon lexicon:

• For the month of April, she challenges women to wear skirts (or dresses) each weekday of the month.
• Each time they leave the house on a weekday, they must be wearing a skirt.
• Each time they wear a skirt, it must be a different skirt. (This year that turns out to be 22 skirts or dresses. You'd be surprised at how many women have that many).
• When you run out of skirts, you exit Skirtathon and go back to your normal, every-day wear.

I've participated in Skirtathon three times. You might say I'm a veteran. I say might because I make the same mistake every year and leave all of my formal skirts and dresses to the end. Today my skirt has lace.  But that's beside the point.

Here's the problem. I want to say that I hate Skirtathon, that it complicates my life, that women have been liberated from the necessity of skirts! But instead, here are my conclusions:

1. Jackie O once advised women to dress like a column. Skirts and dresses accomplish this look and give the added column-esque benefit of helping you stand and sit straighter. It's classy people.
2. I've been more confident when meeting new people.
3. Skirts and dresses lend themselves to accessorizing. I love accessorizing.
4. I've noticed it's a lot easier for me to dress-down a skirt then dress-up jeans. Which do you think is more comfortable, an empire wasted cotton dress with sandals or jeans with a nice blouse and heels? 
5. It's easier to choose what to wear. I think this boils down to the fact that restriction in choice makes the choice easier. 
6. I'm better prepared. Twice Skirtathon has saved me: Once when I found out I had an unexpected business meeting for lunch and again when someone gave me a free ticket to a play after work.
7. Dressing up affects your attitude. Especially if you are in the professional realm during the day (as I am).

Conclusion:
When Skirtathon is over (Hallelujah - just three more days), I will gladly wear pants again. But maybe this funky April tradition is finally turning the tide from my decidedly casual accoutrement to a more elegant affair.