Saturday, December 04, 2004

Well, if they're tapered, they must be pleated too.

Hayden, Idaho is a small suburb of Cour d'alene, just a small blip on any map, yet comfy in it's own way. It is also the final resting place for all of those hideous tapered and pleated women's slacks the late eighties and early nineties brought us. If I'm lyin', I'm dyin'.

Wednesday evening I attended a worship service for the holiday at my mother's quaint little church. There was singing, worship, and an actually interesting service on the history of Thanksgiving in the church. It was during the singing that I noticed the epidemic. Up on risers, in front of everyone, was the church choir. And I kid you not, every woman over thirty was wearing pleated slacks. That were tapered. Good grief. So, I looked around and noticed that almost every woman in the congregation was wearing them too. There were blue, green, red, black, and one pair of some gross shade of brown. Then I noticed that a lot of these women were also wearing the old favorite, turtleneck/vest combo. Hideous.

I tried pointing it out to my mother, but she just gave me that glazed over look I know all to well. The look that means she hasn't the foggiest. And that's when I looked down. I looked down to see that my mother, my own flesh and blood, was wearing...Pleated pants. Tapered.

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