‘Casual Chic’ Dress Code Is an Open Invitation
W hat to wear? Unless the occasion is a royal wedding or a pie-eating contest, Orange County’s social uniform can be summed up as “casual chic.” These two words so perfectly describe the county’s event dress code that they have even been added to the lexicon of the printed invitation. The beauty of such a neat little catch phrase, of course, is that everyone understands exactly what they are supposed to wear. Or do they?
SHE: When a woman reads the words “casual chic” on an invitation, she thinks “chic.” To a man, however, the operative word is “casual.”
HE: I can’t think of many men who would think that the word “chic” is meant to apply to them. There are times when the fashion high ground has to be conceded to women, and this is one of them.
SHE: “This” meaning “any social occasion of any description?” Exactly when does the fashion high ground get conceded back to men?
HE: Never. Ever. The sun will never rise in the west, Brussels sprouts will never taste good and men will never take center stage at a social occasion with women there. They aren’t supposed to. They wouldn’t dare.
SHE: I’m not buying that sardonic pretense of cowering before the female altar of fashion. Surely there is a happy middle ground between mortifying your companion by showing up in unironed Dockers, salt-stained Top-Siders and a golf shirt in a color rarely seen in the annals of aesthetics, and stealing the limelight from her dressed as Liberace redux.
HE: Nobody’s cowering. The simple fact is that any man who came anywhere close to upstaging a woman at a social affair would be her enemy for life, never mind that he’d look ridiculous. It’s a matter of knowing your role, and your role as a man among women is not to be a peacock.
SHE: Wrong, wronger, wrongest. American men are so terrified of having their masculinity questioned by appearing to be interested in their appearance that they will hide behind any old platitude.
Believe me, there’s not a woman alive who wouldn’t be thrilled to have everyone turn and gape at the man on her arm if he were put together like a European and--more importantly--seemed perfectly at ease in his clothes. A well-dressed companion can’t help but reflect on her good taste.
HE: Oh, stop. That European-men-are-more-suave stuff is the dustiest old platitude of all. Aren’t we getting away from the “casual chic” idea about dressing cleanly, crisply and comfortably? I can feel a lot of women wincing at that last word, but being comfortable doesn’t mean sloppy. I think that if you’re at ease in your clothes, it’ll put the people around you at ease. That’s important at a social occasion.
SHE: We aren’t invited to social occasions to put people at their ease. Our unwritten contract with our hosts is to enhance the event, and that means visually as well as conversationally. No one is asking you to be uncomfortable. But I can hardly be expected to feel at ease, let alone inspired, talking to a man whose idea of “casual chic “ is pulling the next two clean items in his wardrobe off the hanger.
HE: What if he’s Albert Einstein, who 6used to forget to wear socks? I’d sure as hell rather talk to him than some nitwit who can’t get off the subject of the killing he just made in pork bellies.
SHE: So would any woman, but given the fact that in Orange County we’re more likely to be conversing with Option B, we would still prefer him not to look like his wife/girlfriend had a fight with him about his clothes on the way over.
HE: But doesn’t it strike you as a bit pretentious to insist on “casual chic “ on an invitation in the first place? What’s the translation? “If you can’t dress dazzlingly, don’t bother to show up?”
SHE: Of course not. That’s where the “casual” comes in. And believe me, a woman can spend weeks prior to an event shopping for and coordinating just the right amount of “casual” for a particular occasion. So why can’t a man invest 20 minutes in putting together just a little “chic”?
HE: I think many men do, especially if they’re going to a social occasion with a wife or girlfriend. They want to look good, but they also know that if they don’t, they’ll get a world of grief. She’ll give them that god-awful look and say, “Are you going to wear that?”
SHE: Then that’s the issue here. It really doesn’t matter what the dress code is. Men aren’t interested in putting themselves together stylishly for the mere pleasure of looking great. Rather than view the dress code for an event as a fun challenge, they see it as just one more barrier between them and the hot hors d’oeuvres.
HE: A “fun challenge” is golf at Pebble Beach. Dressing well is dressing well. It’s not a sport, although it can take a little practice.
And--you may like this--you know who I think offers a pretty terrific example of how to do it? Parisian women. They never smile, but they do know how to put on faded Levis, a white T-shirt and sensible shoes and wear just one more item--a bright scarf maybe--and lift themselves above the ordinary. It isn’t pretentious, and it doesn’t take work or a lot of money.
Maybe it just takes a trip to Paris, which, come to think of it, isn’t a bad idea.
