Who are you wearing?
By Sue Langenberg

That is the proper question. But you have to live in Hollywood to ask and answer that with snobbish sophistication. Otherwise, my short answer is: “Whatever is clean today.”
My outfit may be still in the dryer, hanging on the line or in the clean basket. If the basket makes it up the steps, I am ahead of the game.
I don’t even know who the designers are out there. And I have tried to concentrate whenever a couple friends rattle off names other than Levi or Don’t Sweat Its. Inevitably, I space out after my question about “who?” and wonder “where?” That is, where do you wear your who? Last time I checked, whatever is clean will work for taking out the trash, or going to the grocery store. Some of us just don’t deserve any “who” to wear because of a lack of events.
I was on a summer trip with a friend. We were wearing wrinkles and fast-food stains when we noticed a shoe store that looked interesting. She swept in and put her nose in the air before the owner rubbed his palms and said, “May I help you?” She shuddered and said that she couldn’t wear Glutenstacks, or whatever the rage of designer shoes. He attempted to prove her wrong but when she squeezed into the shoe, paramedics showed up to relieve her anxiety attack against abusive shoe store owners with sly smirks. We were out of there before I could even pronounce the designer’s name. Bloopershiesters? Or was it Blankety Blanks?
I can understand walking into stores and dreaming about wearing a certain “who,” and even seeing how the outfit might look, say, stepping out of a limousine with photo flashes all around and having the public envy your fit and lean look with sparkles galore. And, “who are you wearing?” Well, it was a real find at the dollar store, I might stutter. Or the nearest tent and awning store was the only size I could find.
Which narrows the original question to, “Where are you wearing…?” Well, my schedule says something about a visit to the dentist so I had better wear a drool-proof top. Or if I attach the garden hose, then I had better wear something to match my muddy garden gloves. I usually wear black to weddings.
To set the record straight, yes I do wear certain dressy things at certain dressy times that hang properly and cover various bodily flaws. They don’t have to have a label that says “who” I am wearing. It may be Calorie Climb, or Calvin-My-Grandson. As long as there are elastic waists and any old tag in back to hang on the hall tree.
I also wonder how the process works about “who” you are wearing. Since I assume that the who’s aren’t at the discount or tent and awning store, I wonder if the who racks just sit there, or like in some old movies if someone sweeps in and brings you what is behind the scenes. So that someone must have the magic eye to see how you would look, thereby eliminating the whole process of one glance down the rack and, “nope, nothing here,” because there are no elastic waists.
Or maybe “who” actually shows up at your house to say, “ah, you look dashing in Contemporary Cat Hair,” but he might suggest something a bit more sophisticated. Well, I rattle off my events that day that include groceries, tax man and cleaning spider webs in the basement.
Some of us just don’t deserve “who” we are wearing because we just don’t understand the whole process.

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