Rethinking Concert Dress

When my daughter came out as trans, we were proud of her, and happy to share the news with those who care about her too. These are troubling times for trans-people and those who love them, but I'm grateful that attitudes have changed enough that she could come out, and not feel trapped in the wrong identity, maneuvering through the world conforming to expectations that do not fit her. I am fully supportive of her, and glad to help her on this journey however I am able.

The first thing we did to help, was take her shopping for new clothes. That's been fun. But it got me thinking about any moments she didn't have control over her sartorial decisions.

Most of my kids' clothes have been hand-me-downs from a friend back in Michigan. Whenever her daughter outgrew enough things to fill a box, my friend would pass it along to me. She started passing along her son's clothes, too, by the time we had our third child. But when my youngest took a liking to anything her older sisters had worn, she was certainly welcome to take it once they'd outgrown it. Her favorite shirt for years was a Jonas Brothers shirt I'd bought for my oldest when she requested something purple, and that was the only purple thing we could find at Target. When it no longer fit, her youngest sister snapped it up and wore it for years. She also had a strange pink-camo shirt with a sparkly butterfly on it that her cousin left behind one summer that she wore regularly. She wasn't limited by color or sparkles or anything inside our home or out of it. I didn't police any of my kids' clothes. The only rules were the clothes had to be clean and not have too many holes. (I declared weekends "holey days" in our house where beloved clothes that were coming apart could still be worn, but not to school.) There were many outings to the grocery store or choir rehearsals where one or more of my kids were dressed as kangaroos. My kids could where what they liked.

The exceptions, however, were: Weddings, funerals, and concerts.

These are situations where one needs formal clothes. I always think of formal attire as Concert Dress, since those are the events for which I have to dress in an expected manner with the greatest frequency. And unless we want to risk being seen as disrespectful, society dictates what is appropriate, not the individual.

And I realize, looking back with a certain amount of regret, that for formal occasions throughout my trans-daughter's life, I made her put on dress pants, boys' dress shoes and button up shirts. We even got her a blazer for a student UN event down in Chicago. She had to wear those clothes to one wedding, at least one funeral, a few school pictures, and many concerts.

In fact, it occurred to me, as I've been reviewing her childhood and what things related to her true identity I wish I could have done differently to spare her discomfort, that not a small part of her resistance to playing in recitals was probably the clothes. Most kids are nervous about playing recitals, but it could not have helped that being made to dress in a way that felt wrong was required for them. I'm sure Concert Dress added unnecessary anxiety.

This has gotten me thinking about how Concert Dress, and formal attire as a whole, needs to be updated.

The first place I looked to was my own experience with symphony orchestras. The required "uniform" has always been gendered. Which, by definition, makes them not so uniform. My whole orchestra career, men have been told to wear dark jackets and ties, and women full length black. Sometimes it's white on top, and black on the bottom (which has always made me feel like I'm back to waiting tables). In most situations, women wear whatever they like, it just has to be dressy enough, and black.

I think it's time to extend that "long black" as the only descriptor to everyone.

Most string players I know who are required to wear formal jackets find them restrictive. I see nothing wrong with ditching the jackets and ties and saying any simple, decent long-sleeved black top will do. I don't see any reason to dictate skirts vs. pants for anyone. Long black. However you want. Go nuts.

Because looking down the line at younger players, that's a generation full of people who don't want to be forced to conform to the current binary options that earlier generations simply accepted. I don't want orchestras to lose out on talented players because the dress code doesn't accommodate them. I know plenty of trans, non-binary, and gender-queer kids, for whom being told "Men wear jackets and ties, women wear long black" would put them in an uncomfortable position. For what?

I only ever got to participate in a marching band once. Back in high school, our orchestra director asked for advanced string players to volunteer to learn parts on mallet instruments to help fill out a complicated piece the marching band was doing that season. I got to play marimba. I also got to wear a band uniform, which was really fun. And it struck me how there was no "boy uniform" and "girl uniform." Everyone in the band matched. It looked good. Same when choirs wear all the same robes, regardless of gender. Maybe it's time for orchestras to follow suit.

Often private teachers when instructing their young musicians to dress up for a recital tend to request they wear "nice" clothes (no jeans or sneakers), or some version of what people used to call "Sunday best." This still implies to many (like myself) rather gendered options, even if that's not explicitly stated. I think at this point, if I were still teaching, I would tell my students to wear something that makes them the most happy. I remember telling my oldest she had to wear something nice when we went to see The Nutcracker when she was young, and she proudly donned a tie dye shirt she'd made. She was surprised when I told her that it didn't qualify as "formal." She felt that meant she should wear the thing she thought was the most beautiful, and between the colors and the good memories all wrapped up in that t-shirt, it qualified in her mind. I think if I had it to do again, I would allow the tie dye, and add a fancy necklace or something.

"Formal" shouldn't have to mean only skirts/dresses, or slacks and jackets. Men in particular have very few choices. I think we need to get more creative about what constitutes "formal" so that it can include a neutral option that would work for anyone, regardless of gender identity.

Because meaningful events like concerts, weddings, funerals, etc., should be about inclusion and coming together. Not allowing outdated ideas of sticking people into overly specific categories to take precedence over more important things, like music and families and life.

It's time to rethink Concert Dress. It's a relatively small adjustment that could do more good than many realize. It's time to move on to something better that includes everyone who wants to participate. It could have helped my kid, which means it would likely help many other kids. That alone makes it worth doing.

Belated Thoughts on Switch it Up

With rare exceptions, I am not a timely blogger.  There have been occasions where I've reacted quickly to a current event or topic but I've usually regretted it.  I'd rather think something through before committing myself to a "side."  I've been offered jobs to blog for sites that cover hot topics, but I can't.  Writing is a sideline for me at best, and I can't drop the things I'm supposed to be doing to quickly dash off a post during the small window when people want an opinion on the outrage of the moment.  Besides, I'm not interested in fueling any fires.  I'd rather find ways to put them out if possible.

So here are my thoughts on a local story that briefly went national many weeks ago, now that nobody remembers or cares.  Because gender issues interest me, I do have an opinion unlike any of the ones I heard at the time, and I do find myself still thinking about it.

The elementary school a few blocks from our house had something called Switch It Up Day during their version of a spirit week.  Lots of schools have special dress up days.  My kids' school did an 80s day at one point, and I think a backwards day.  The thing I remember most from those kinds of dress up days when I was in high school was that at the end of the week we were supposed to be decked out in the school colors, but Ferndale High's colors were brown and white and that was just boring.

Anyway, the nearby school was getting reactions from all over the country about what was being called "Gender Bender Day" on the news.  The girls could dress as boys and the boys could dress as girls.  Nobody had to do anything, of course, it was supposed to be voluntary and fun, but apparently one parent got bent out of shape over it, and suddenly everyone had an opinion on whether or not this was harmless or something to do with the decay of society and gender norms.

I wouldn't lodge a formal protest if I were a parent of someone at that school, because that's not the hill I want to die on, but I do object to the idea of Switch It Up Day.  And probably not for the reasons others might.

Fancy (Babble)

I am not a fancy person.  I like certain things to be nice and I appreciate attractive surroundings, but when it comes to my own appearance I have a limited range of sartorial choices that make me comfortable.  I’m a jeans and t-shirt kind of person.  I like to have pockets, I like my wrists unencumbered by cuffs or bracelets, I like things that are simple, and I like clothes that don’t inhibit the activities I enjoy like building violins, baking, or getting on the floor to play a game with my kids.

When I try to wear decent clothes I’m self-conscious.  I keep checking and double checking everything if the way the clothes rest on my body doesn’t feel familiar.  I’ve tried to accessorize with a pretty scarf or shawl but I keep moving it or pulling at it or shifting it around and it’s not worth the distraction.

I don’t iron or dry clean.  I don’t wear makeup.  I don’t even have pierced ears.
I admire people who look put together.  I find fashion interesting, and I have opinions and preferences, but most of it stops before it reaches my own personal self.  I’m not elegant.  To pull that off you have to make it seem effortless, or at least natural, and that’s just not me.


Luckily, being a self-employed adult in charge of my own itinerary, I make lifestyle choices where jeans and a t-shirt works most of the time.  I only really need to dress up to play concerts, so I have a collection of black clothes that are comfortable to perform in and look nice enough on stage.

But every once in awhile something comes up and I realize what a hopeless shambles my wardrobe really is.  Between changes in my weight and my indifference to clothes shopping there is nothing decent in my closet if I need to look nice.

And this weekend I’m accompanying Ian to a military ball.  Ha.

Not that anyone there will care how I look as long as I make some vague effort to appear respectable, but I’d like to feel pretty.  I’d like to make Ian proud as he wears his dress blues with his medals pinned on his chest.  I’d like to have one, decent, dare I say elegant, dress to wear.

I imagine shopping for clothes if you have a body that fits into things could be fun.  But I am too big on top for most of what’s out there, and there are few things more demoralizing than trying on one thing after another that won’t zip or that makes your butt look bad or your legs too weird or your whole body just seem wrong.  I spent an entire morning with a patient friend trying on dresses at the mall and by the end of it I felt as if all my efforts to lose weight have been pointless and I should just eat cheesecake, wear sweatpants, and never look in the mirror again.

The last time I needed a fancy dress at a time when nothing fit was for a cousin’s wedding several years ago.  I had just had a miscarriage and I was supposed to play solo viola for the ceremony.  (I was still bleeding during the event, and Aden and Mona were flower girls, and that whole day was a dizzying cacophony of emotions for me.)  I actually wound up sewing myself something a few days before the wedding.  I didn’t use a pattern, I just found some pretty material and made it up.  I have no idea if it looked okay, but I was not in a mental state to completely care.  (I hope I looked okay.  If I’m feeling brave later I may dig through a photo album and see.)

I don’t have the time or energy to try that this time.  I’m at the mercy of what stores have to offer.  My fall back plan will be something from the ever present collection of black things.

Speaking of concert wear, this past weekend my girls had a violin recital.  They did beautifully.  I was nervous for Mona after last year, but she simply got up in front of the room, cranked out Ode To Joy the best she’d ever done it, and smiled sweetly as she took her seat again.  Aden did a lovely job as well, and Quinn was about as good as you could ask a five year old to be at an hour long violin recital.  It was a really good day.

The only hitch was about half an hour before we were supposed to leave and I told Mona it was time to put on something nice.  She balked.

Both of my girls were big into fancy dresses when they were little.  They wore Easter and Christmas dresses all year round, always looking as if it were picture day as they set off for school.  A few years ago Aden started gravitating away from dresses, but still has a few for special occasions, and she had no trouble finding a nice one for the recital.
But not Mona.  Mona had on leggings and a long sleeved shirt and wanted to know why it wasn’t good enough.

I explained that the clothes you choose to wear say something as clearly as if you were holding a sign.  A police uniform means something different from painting clothes means something different from a wedding gown.  I told her by dressing nicely for the recital it was a way of acknowledging all the hard work everyone had done to prepare for it by showing it was special.  If she dressed like it was any other day, it was like saying the recital wasn’t important.  She needed to wear something fancy.

She fussed and she fumed, but she understood my explanation.  She started digging through her closet.  The main thing we discovered is that Mona has grown since the last time she had to wear something dressy, and nothing zipped or buttoned.  She looked stricken as one outfit after another was set aside for Goodwill, but eventually we found something new that had been a gift from a friend but not worn yet, and it was perfect.  Mona looked pleased despite herself.  It was a nice dress, comfortable, with pretty colors.  I let her wear it right over her regular outfit so underneath she would just feel like herself.
As I knelt down on the floor behind her, carefully doing up the buttons, Mona said to me quietly, “I don’t like to be fancy.”

You and me both, sweetheart.  You and me both.

Mona the Inappropriate (Babble)

Most people like Aden.  She is bright and articulate and good at making friends.  She is very popular among other children and she gets along well with adults. 

Quinn has a hard time opening up to other people when I’m around, but once he does start talking he’s generally charming and everyone comments on how smart he is.  No one I’ve ever encountered has an extreme reaction to either my oldest daughter or my son.  They are likable, or at least inoffensive, and that’s enough.

Mona, however….  Well, people have all kinds of reactions to Mona.  Mona behaves in extreme ways so people have more extreme responses.  If she takes an instant liking to you, she may squeal and hug you and bury her face into your belly, (whereas Aden or Quinn will politely say hello).  If you think such a greeting is funny, then you’d be inclined to really like Mona.  If all that six-year-old energy coming at you is alarming, well, then, Mona may be too much.

Now, in very practical ways she is my easiest child.  She actually listens the first time, so often I’ll call everyone to dinner and end up sitting alone for half the meal with just Mona.  I never have to remind her to put on her seat belt.  She never lies to me, even about things that get her in trouble.  But Mona takes a deft touch to deal with sometimes, because she doesn’t take criticism well, or even perceived criticism.  If I tell Aden that her hair looks nice, Mona’s face immediately falls and she says, “And mine doesn’t?”  I am so glad I decided to have someone else teach her to play violin or we could have seriously damaged the love between us by now.  (Her teacher earns every cent for those lessons.)



I’ve seen a couple of people lose it a bit out of frustration with Mona, and she universally wears people out.  But she’s adorable and hilarious.  She has a pretty big fan club of other parents who smile when they see her romping around the playground.  She gives me kisses on my nose if I look sad and makes elaborate paper birds and flies them around the house.  She says unpredictable things.  When she met my friend Miriam’s new baby in New York, her first response was, “Oh!  Cute baby!  Does it have a name yet?” and then she offered up both ‘Bob’ and ‘Booby’ as potential monikers.

School was a big adjustment for Mona, but she’s done very well.  Her teacher (who deserves some teaching equivalent of sainthood) is unflappable and gentle, and she’s impressed with how far Mona’s come.  She told me at one point if you’d asked her to predict when Mona entered the classroom as a K3 that she’d be this cooperative and civilized by K5, she’d have had doubts.  Mona’s teacher is accepting of eccentricity without letting it interfere with her classroom.  She has found Mona both a challenge and source of great amusement and there have been relatively few problems, particularly this last year.

So I was surprised this last week when I got a phone call from the school asking me to please bring a change of clothes for Mona because her outfit that day was inappropriate.
I had dropped the girls off at school and gone straight to work with Quinn, then went grocery shopping, so by the time I got the message on my machine at home it was only an hour before I was supposed to pick Mona up at the end of the day anyway.  I decided to let it go and deal with the issue at the pickup on the playground.  I spent the next hour wracking my brain for what Mona had worn to school.  I couldn’t remember, but Mona makes such weird clothing choices I don’t really see them anymore.  I was sure it wasn’t anything she hadn’t worn before, so I was really confused.

When she came bounding out of the school building with her class I looked her over.  She was in a pink tank top that was admittedly too large, but she loves it and she’s six.  She had on a pair of thick tights with pastel colored stripes and a pair of turquoise gym shorts, and patent leather dress shoes.  She was a goofy sight, but she didn’t strike me as inappropriate.  (And no, I don’t have a picture because Mona refused to pose for one after all the fuss about her clothes that day.)

The teacher smiled and said, “We had a visit from the principal today, and an administrator in the classroom, and of course who was in an odd position at that moment but Mona.”  Apparently Mona had been in the middle of the main rug working on some project, down on all fours with her butt in the air stretching her little shorts to thong like proportions.  Her baggy tank top also chose that time to flop off one shoulder so you could get a good view of the nothing underneath.  Her teacher is also sort of immune to seeing what Mona’s wearing anymore, so she said she took in the whole sight with fresh eyes and thought to herself, “Oh, Mona.”

The principal was shocked and said, “What is that child wearing?” and then the teacher promised she’d call me right away.  They put a large T-shirt from the lost and found over Mona for the rest of the day.  The teacher told me she didn’t really have a problem with the outfit, but that I should be careful because children who catch someone’s attention that way tend to continue to face further scrutiny.  Good to know.

So Mona and I had a talk.  I told her she could still wear whatever she wants at home, but that at school she should wear shirts under any tank tops, and maybe long pants for the rest of the school year.  As long as her clothing choices weren’t censored completely she was fine with that.  She declared, “So, I will have some things for anytime, and some things that are good for school, right?  Okay!”  She will still find a way to shock the principal I’m sure.

This was a girl who used to wear her bathing suit backwards, and I would point out that when she had it on wrong you could see her nipples.  I figured this would help her figure out which way it went, but instead she would put it on backwards and announce, “My nipples are ready!”

We’ve got such a long, strange adventure ahead.  I may not survive it, but I’ll die smiling.