Color Day

School uniforms lacked  imagination. And most kids I knew wore them. With our regulation knee socks and matching sweaters, we all looked like little Irish gang  members, but the different plaids let everyone know which school you called home. There was no room for individuality in the catholic school dress code.

My high school even made you wear a different colored uniform each year you were in school. This made it much easier for the nuns to give us the yearly , "We know who you are, so watch it!" lecture. At the beginning of the school year, each class was gathered for an assembly that invariably began with us being told that someone had called the school to complain that a girl wearing their class uniform was being unruly, smoking and/or causing trouble on the bus, in the mall and/or in general. The message was that we had better behave, because there were spies out there just waiting to turn us in. 

It seemed like we had been wearing uniforms forever, so when my high school announced an upcoming color day, we were thrilled! A color day was a day that we weren't required to wear uniforms to school. We could wear whatever we wanted, just like the Publics!

Public school kids were the closest thing that we had to cool...they got to wear what they wanted and leave their school between classes. They even had a designated area in which to smoke! Publics were the epitome of everything fast, naughty and racy. They had an edgy style that was totally alien to our locker inspected, name tag way of life. We loved any little opportunity that made us look as cool as them. 

Color days were usually a reward for something good, like meeting the schools candy sales goal, or behaving when some dignitary visited the school. The administration was happy, and that's how I got away with wearing sparkles and feathers on color day. I was also the president of the drama club, so I don't think anyone was really surprised with my fashion choices. Think pre diagnosed bipolar accepting an Academy Award. Fabulous!

Ironically,  most students took this opportunity to celebrate individuality by dressing exactly alike in their T shirts and jeans. And make fun of the girls who weren't dressed like them. 

I felt for these girls. Some of them couldn't afford Gloria Vanderbilt jeans. Some of them were first generation Lithuanian refugees and didn't know what Gloria Vanderbilt jeans were. Some of them were color challenged or accessory blind. Some of them just didn't care.

So I decided to  say something about it when it was my turn to read in English class. People chuckled as I sashayed my glittery self up to the front of the class. Amidst some laughter, I adjusted my feather collar and addressed my classmates. I told them that it was okay to laugh at me, I knew that my outfit was amusing. But some girls hadn't planned on being laughed at. This was all they had, so stop it.

I don't remember what happened after that. I do know that I received applause, and Sister Henrietta made me give my speech to the next class, but I don't know if I inspired anyone to stop being a jerk.

But in case I did, thank you from all of us who continue to dress outside of the box. Its our way of being a little fast, naughty and racy. Just like everybody else.