The dresscode

The distinction between an acceptable way to be dressed inside your own home, and an acceptable way to be dressed in public, seems to have all but disappeared here as far as I can see. I knew before moving that the US is generally a more casual society, but I have been surprised at just how little effort people are prepared to make.

A while ago I had to go out of the house at short notice. I had on an unfortunate pair of shorts, creased T shirt and worn-out beach sandals. I was unshowered, unshaved and, well, an altogether unappealing sight. I would normally not inflict myself on the world looking like this, but I had no choice, because my errand had to be done urgently.

However, a sudden turn of events led me to have to go straight to an evening at the cinema. I was appalled at how I looked, but if I went home to change we would miss the movie. So I walked in, keeping to the shadows, hiding behind pillars, until gradually it dawned on me - I looked just like everyone else there, buying their tickets and lining up to get their popcorn. Right down to the lack of a shave, I had unwittingly hit upon the Californian dress code for going out and about in the evening.

If I had been given some notice, I would have put on my jeans for an evening like this. These jeans have seen better days - the knees are so well-established that they seem to remain in a sitting position long after I have got up and started walking. But I would have been one of the smarter people at the cinema by some margin.

I am fully in support of feeling comfortable in public, but as I watch people go past me in a variety of tracksuit bottoms, old shorts and other garments recently picked up off a bedroom floor, I feel that this is one aspect of American life that I should resist adapting to.