Long before it was a fashion statement, oh, along about the time it was truly a blunder, I made a statement all right … by wearing a pair of mismatched shoes to church.
It’s been so long ago, as a matter of fact, that I still had children at home. And a husband. ;^- (Thus, the reason I probably didn’t have a clue as to the nature of my own appearance.) (I spent a great deal of time in La-La-Land in those days ~~ it was a self preservation technique that I honed to a fine art.)
It was also at a time when I actually cared what I wore to church. (I’m somewhat ashamed to admit it now, but it does make for a better story.) (Don’t get me wrong, I don’t wear cut-offs and a tank top to church, but this place was, well … I’ll just say, “over the top.” It was quite the church to make a fashion statement. It was more of a diversion than Paris in the Spring. Showing up to see what the fashionistas were wearing was right up there with praising the Almighty. You know. Priorities. One simply must keep them straight.
Now, I must insert here that my mother made sure that we wore our Sunday best to church when I was growing up. It was important that we offered our best. I understand that theory. It makes sense. What I’m speaking of in the previous paragraph is another man-made (or woman-made) warped sense of importance. Oh, how we human beings can skew a perfectly good sanctity.
Nevertheless, I digress.
On said Sunday, I rushed about in the usual tizzy, trying to get myself ready, the children ready, as well as answering the perfunctory Sunday morning question from the former Mister (Does this tie match this shirt?) (No.) (Did it ever?) (You’re color-blind, for St. Peter’s sake.) ;^-
Sundays were not my favorite day of the week.
On this particular Sunday, I donned a long, navy-blue, broom skirt, (comfy…no hose required) and a flow-y black and blue top (to match my attitude) (AND covers a multitude of sins) ;^) … and a pair of navy-blue pumps. Or so I thought.
After an entire first-half-of-the- service, singing and playing the piano (a longggggg self-imposed penance that I supposed would secure my spot behind the Pearly Gates) (Boy, was I wrong….) I took my seat on the front row. I let out a long sigh. I let my mind wander. (I forgot to put the roast in the oven. I wonder if I can convince the Mister to buy lunch at the Mexican restaurant today?) Sigh. I crossed my legs to swing my foot in nervous anticipation for the end of the sermon.
Several foot swings later … Did my eyes deceive me? No. They did not. There was a navy pump. Good. On the other foot ~~ a black pump. Noooooo! I blinked my eyes. It had to be a mirage. Blink. Blink.
(Noooooooo. I am DEFinitely NOT winking at you, Mister.) (Are you kidding me?) (Your tie doesn’t match your suit.)
And my shoes didn’t match each other.
Oh, horror of horrors. THE fashion faux pas of the fashion faux pas’Z.
I cannot tell a lie. I was in church, for goodness’ sake.
I wanted to laugh. Why cry? There were too many other perfectly good reasons to cry that I had skipped right on over. Laughter would be better. Yes, much better.
I covered my mouth with my hand. My eyes began to sparkle. I stifled a giggle. It certainly was the most interesting thing I had seen that day. And I thought it up all by myself. Oh. That’s right. No thought was involved. None whatsoever.
Oh, who cares? So, I wore mismatched shoes. No one noticed until I pointed it out afterward, laughing at my own joke. Why was I the only one laughing? They were too busy sashaying down the runway. I mean, aisle, viewing each others’ regalia.
I was FAR ahead of my time with the one-black-shoe-one-navy-shoe-thing. I just didn’t realize it then. I think that I may try it again sometime. Just to see if anybody notices.
Oh, fiddlesticks. Who am I kidding? ;^) I much prefer the church where cut-offs, tank tops and bare feet are accepted. I think they call it, “the beach.” ;^) The Almighty speaks there, too. And he definitely doesn’t care what you wear. ;^)
Miss Cynthia L. H.
Oh, Cynthia!! We have indeed belonged to a church like that!! It’s a shame when you have to so much thought into whether or not you’re all dressed appropriately, than what the sermon for the day is!! Thank goodness for maturity!!! This was a great Sunday laugh~
Carol,
It’s actually a good thing to attend a church like that . . . a GREAT way to learn . . . (providing that you have a teachable attitude in the first place… ) … how NOT to do things! Oh, the lessons I’ve learned! ;^) (Sounds like the title to a great Dr. Seuss book!) ;^D Thank you for stopping by. I really do appreciate it! Once again, I’m glad that out of all the goofiness of what I call my “life,” there is some laughter to share! ;^)
HugZ
Miss C
Great story Cynthia!!! Me, like you, I would have pointed it out to everybody, and laugh! You and I are totally on the same page!
We have been going to the church services at Thousand Trails (non-denominational) and feel blessed to be able to go & NOT worry about what we wear. It’s all about the word!
Shabby Girl,
Oh my goodness! Well, maybe if we went to the same church and you had on a navy pump and a black pump and I had on a black pump and a navy pump, we could switch and end up with a PAIR!!! ;^D Then, we could giggle and point at each other and snicker during the sermon. ;^-
(I would definitely “get” your joke.) ;^)
HugZ,
C
Love the story – you tell it so well! Having once spent an important meeting glancing down at my odd socks (never dress in the dark is now my motto) I reached the conclusion that if anyone noticed they’d be too well-mannered to say anything (all present were laid-back English gents and ladies) and if they didn’t I sure wasn’t going to point it out to them!
Scriptor Senex,
Thank you! I have learned over the last couple of years that you are very well read, so that compliment coming from you is well taken!
Your motto is hilarious. I have done the same thing . . . dressing in the dark. I agree! NOT a good idea. ;^)
I’ve always wondered how “well-mannered” IS well-mannered? ;^- When one sees something that could cause greater embarrassment if left undone (such as a zipper, or some such ….) Oh, my . . . there’s another story . . . I have a mortifying experience with that one. ;^p
Thank you for stopping by! I really do appreciate it.
Miss Cynthia
I used to sit in Church (I went almost every Sunday from the age of 4 until I was 16) and look at the hats. I decided that they were The Hat Brigade. It was the same thing. I decided that I really couldn’t cope with that and some other issues and I had little to do with The Church for 10 years. Ironically when I came to Lewis I found the same thing only more so. I’m sure that a God would have absolutely no interest in what people wear.
As for the different shoes I think that is an absolutely wonderful story, Cynthia. I’m sure that we all have similar stories of potential embarrassment to tell. At the age of 16 I would have been mortified. Now? Nay chance.
GB,
I wish people would wear hats more in the U.S. If they did, I would not mind going to church for the fashion show. ;^- (I know, sounds hypocritical, but it would be unusual, and for that reason alone, I think I would get a kick out of it for a while. Oh, well . . . not likely to happen . . . .
I think that good attitudes are a much more important adornment than clothing. ;^)
Thank you for the compliment, Graham. It means a lot to me.
Embarrassing moments do become more blase’ as time passes . . . .
;^)
C