Last month I was waiting in the bathroom line at the Guthrie Theatre during intermission. You know, just getting ready to enjoy some cultural theatre called listening to other grown women’s conversations about what they’re wearing. We were in line for the bathroom during said intermission of some musical whose name I can’t remember because MUM BRAIN is a thing, people.
And this mum was telling her friend: “I literally tried on six outfits before we left the house.” She was almost vibrating with JUSTICE. “Six. And then I get here and there’s someone else in yoga trousers. REAL yoga trousers.
With holes in them. My mum would die.” She glared around dramatically at all the women in the bathroom line, daring us to judge her.
I looked down at myself.
Jumper?
Cheque. Trousers with no fingerprints?
Cheque. Boots I can walk in? Cheque.
Was I underdressed compared to this lady? Overdressed? Is there some sort of standard anymore for what to wear when you leave the house with your kids?
Because holy crap, why does dressing yourself as a mum need to feel so hard? When I was a kid growing up in Iowa, going to see OUR TOWN at the local civic centre was a Big Fancy Event. Mum would put on earrings (you know those earrings every mum has that are “good earrings” but that you only wear for church and cultural events?).
Dad would put on his one tie that wasn’t truly terrifying. And I would be bundled into some itchy dress from JCPenney and wish I was wearing jeans. Theatre demanded clothing near your_actual_chest and even if your near-your-actual-chest was Old Navy, you wore nice stuff for theatre.
Nowadays, I feel like I have no idea what the acceptable parameters are. Because last weekend I went to a matinee of some Disney musical with the kids (I refuse to name it because C’m’on people. EVERY FILM looks like candy and puppies these days so HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO PICK???) and oh.my.goodness.the.rage.the outfits people were wearing.
There were mums rocking mascara, cute shoes, dresses that billowed around their ankles. There were mums in leggings that cost more than my outfit. There were mums in athletic shorts and T-shirts who clearly were just running errands before they came to this kids’ production.
And there I was in jeans that aren’t stained, a jumper that isn’t white, and boots I can walk in. I put on mascara in the car because there was absolutely no way I was wearing trousers with boots AND mascara. THIS IS REAL LIFE.
WE LIVE IN MINNESOTA. “This is like church clothes for me,” the mum next to me said when we were debating whether sandals were an acceptable shoe choice for the Guthrie Theatre. She looked like she went to church dressed like she was coming from it – modest dress, nice jacket, her hair done, makeup applied. It was everything I was wearing minus about twenty years of life experience and knowledge of how to appropriately dress for going out in public without your children. “I feel like we should be wearing suits,” I replied.
It was intermission, we were drinking wine out of plastic Guthrie Theatre cups, and I had no idea what we were supposed to wear to the theatre as suburban mums. Except now that I think about it, I feel like mum clothes for the theatre autumn into certain camps. There are the Glamour Mums who are gonna wear a dress and make-up and ACTUAL jewellery every chance they get.
Hubs and I have friends who fit this bill – they have the whole act down, I’m sure of it. Their houses are sparkling clean, their children are always perfectly behaved, and they wear booties for shoes. And then there’s me and my crowd.
The Practical Mums who wear jeans and sensible shoes and always have a layer we can remove because someone PLEASE TELL ME WHO DECIDES THETEMPERATUREINTHEATERSE?? We want to look good, yes. But we’d rather have comfy feet than fabulous shoes any day.
And of course, there are theCasual Mums who literally wear whatever they walked in wearing – workout clothes, weekend sweats, you name it. As long as it’s not covered in poop or Purell stains, they’re gonna wear it wherever they want to go. Man, I kinda hate these mums.
Not really, don’t hate me. I love that they just don’t care what other people think about their outfits. But I’m also pretty sure they didn’t spend twenty minutes arguing over what shoes were acceptable to wear to the theatre like us.
Plus, don’t these mums know there are YOUNG MOTHERS OUT THERE now who somehow know what to wear? Their outfits look like they tried hard at clothes but didn’t actually try hard. They’re wearing brands I don’t know, clothes I’ll never be cool enough to wear.
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I love and hate these mums in equal measure. My friend Sarah and I once went to Chicago and spent twenty minutes trying to find something appropriate to wear to see … Chicago. Too dressy and we looked high-and-mighty.
Too casual and we looked like we didn’t care about the arts. We settled on our “nice mum jeans uniform” of boots and shirts that were just a little nicer than our typical Target fare. As we were sitting in our comfy chairs waiting for the show to start, I realised we were overthinking this.
The lady behind us was wearing leggings and a t-shirt. The couple next to us had rental hallmarks written all over their outfits. The kids behind us were wearing… whatever kids these days wear.
But nobody looked exceptionally dressed up or down except Sarah and I, pawing at our acceptable-for-theatre clothes like the standards had suddenly shifted and we didn’t know what was appropriate anymore. Guess what?! THE STANDARDS HAVE SHIFTED AND NOBODY TOLD US.
Ladies, let me impart some wisdom on you – there are no hard fast rules about what to wear when you take your kids to see Hamilton. Or Moana. Or Frozen twice because your kids won’t stop talking about it.
Except for maybe pyjamas. I will never accept pyjamas as appropriate attire for leaving your house. Seriously though, I’ve started viewing this whole “what to wear with your kids to see a show” dilemma as similar to all of the other stupid shit we try to navigate as suburban mums.
How do you look like you have your shit together at school pickup without seeming like you’re trying to outdo the other mums? How do you impress your coworkers when you don’t OWN any business casual clothes that don’t have holes from your children chewing on them? How do you decide what to wear to do literally anything anymore when your bar is suddenly “will this cover spit-up?” These days I tell myself I’m doing “trying but not trying too hard.” Not yoga trousers but not jeans that cost more than my camera either.
Boots because there is never ever EVER moderate footwear weather in Minnesota. Trousers or a dress that are “nice” but wouldn’t kill me if they got ripped on the playground. jacket or cardigan because did I mention Michiganians hate their children and want them to live in weather that is either freezing cold or boiling hot?
Jumper? Cheque. Jeans that don’t have stains?
Cheque. Boots I can walk in? Cheque and holy crap I’m over-thinking this again.
But you know what? I’m also not judging mums who wear leggings to see shows anymore. Or cute dresses.
Or hockey jerseys. She might be thrilled that she’s out of the house and you’re distracting her toddler long enough for you to see a show. That woman in the cute top and trousers?
Clothes aren’t cheap and she’s just happy to be treating herself tonight. The mum who’s wearing yoga trousers might be dying to feel like herself again, so she wore what makes her comfortable.
The woman who’s covered from head-to-toe in what might cost more than my house?
Divorce is hard, friends.
Be kind. Last week I took Emma to a show at the theatre.
I wore leggings, boots, and a jumper that was washed enough for public viewing but not quite “nice jumper” territory. But hey, Emma loved the show, I was comfortable enough to sit through it without pulling up my trousers every five seconds, and nobody cared what I was wearing. Didn’t even the ACTORS care what we wore?
Between managing their raging-child audiences I doubt they even noticed us, poor dears. My theory on dressing like a grown-up who still enjoys the theatre these days is to remember what you’re doing it for in the first place. Go out, support live theatre, teach your kids that culture is important.
Do that in a sundress or yoga trousers – whatever works for you mama! But let’s draw the line at PJs. Please.
My trousers have pockets.
