It wasn’t too long ago that I was commuting daily to Seattle. This commute involved a ferry ride and then a walk to my office building.
Of course, I had my “ferry friends” to talk to during this water ride, but I couldn’t help noticing that you could almost tell what people were going to do in Seattle by the clothes they wore.
The men in three-piece suits with briefcases were probably lawyers or bankers. The women in pantsuits or skirts and coordinated jackets were probably the same or at the very least worked in a formal office. The kids in school uniforms were probably going to school. The people in shorts and Hawaiian shirts were obviously tourists. All these people were dressed in the uniform befitting their job activity of the day. Or were they?
One guy that commuted daily with us wore a beautiful cashmere overcoat in the cooler months and his shoes were obviously soft leather and highly polished. His demeanor was quiet but friendly if he needed to talk, which he didn’t do much of, but I surmised he was a rich businessman, probably living on Bainbridge Island in one of those fancy houses overlooking water and probably a city view.
One day during my lunch break, I saw him on the street in Seattle. Just happened to be with my boss and out for a bite to eat when we saw him. I mentioned to her that I commuted with this man and she said, “Do you know him?” I said, “No, but he seems so important.” She laughed.
“That is ——. He lives with his mother and father and works in the coroner’s laboratory as a janitor.” Of course, my mouth fell open and I had lots of questions.
This is the story: This guy is mentally challenged (he has the mind of a 12-year-old) and his father got him this job. He’s been doing it for 18 years and makes pretty good money, which he spends on clothes.
I tell you this story to show you that clothes don’t always tell the story of the person’s life. Have you noticed that every area or place has its own dress code? Such as the North Kitsap look — sweat pants and sweatshirt (if clean) are pretty formal. However, in Hansville we favor jeans and vests, walking shoes and Uggs and, of course, baseball hats (men and women, bad hair day or not).
This last statement will get me in trouble with the church-going people and bridge-playing groups that wear nice outfits to meetings, but while grocery shopping are dressed in … well, use your imagination, but isn’t that what life is all about?
Quite a few Hansvillians are retired and now dress for comfort, but we probably could scare up a dress suit or white shirt and pantsuit if needed. Just thanking my lucky stars they aren’t needed all that often. How about you?
