Wynne’s dress code a win-win for everybody-everybody
So, Premiere Kathleen Wynne is imposing a dress code at Queen’s Park. Good on her, I say. I’m a huge fan of clothing and fervently believe everyone should wear some. Unless, of course, you’re showering. Or bathing. Or being born. And in that latter instance, there’s always someone nearby to quickly wrap you in something, anyway. And since you’re in no position to object - with your head still being soft and vocal chords undeveloped and all - most of us tend to adopt the clothing-atmost-times lifestyle at an early age. We are, you could say, born into it.
NEWBORN: Does this towel come in brown? You see, I’m more of a spring.
NURSE: Well, seeing as you’re barely older than, you know, zero, why don’t we wait and see what your colour match really is?
NEWBORN: I suppose. But the red doesn’t seem to match the colour of my eyes.
NURSE: Your eye colour is likely going to change anyway.
NEWBORN: Really? When? NURSE: When your head stops being soft and you learn to speak.
There’s more, of course, to Ms. Wynne’s code of clothing conduct, which calls for un-tattered jeans, shoulder-covering shirts and absolutely no shorts so short they’d barely cover a garden gnome. And it’d be easy to pshaw these regulations as nothing more than an out-of-date, uptight set of rules from a woman who, admittedly, can remind you of that elementary school librarian you had in 1973. Possibly, you even imagine her frequently saying “pshaw.” And at the risk of my sounding like that nerdy, uptight kid who never left that library - hiding in the sci-fi section, a masking taped A on his shirt, just like the one Captain Kirk is wearing in that Star Trek graphic novel - Ms. Wynne is right; there should be strict clothing regulations in all government buildings of all levels.
I don’t want to pay a parking ticket to a woman who looks like she just walked out of a Lindsay Lohan video - the music kind, not the one of her being cuffed and booked - or apply for a building permit via some guy who’s wearing his favourite Rib Fest 2004 muscle shirt.
We’re not talking about gowns and tuxedos, here, either. Or even ties and pumps, for that matter. (Both of which can disappear from our fashionscape and we’d be the better for it). The premiere is merely imposing a professional appearance in a professional milieu that, well, is befitting of the word milieu. (Most provincial services, after all, are available en français).
ME: Hi. Do you know where I renew my driver’s license?
GOV’T EMPLOYEE: Right here. That’s why I’m on the other side of this glass wicket.
ME: Oh. I thought maybe, given the tube top you’re wearing, you were selling Frisbees.
GE: First of all, they’re called discs, Dude. And this is Extremely Radical Gnarly and Casual Friday.
ME: Uh, then I’ll come back Monday, sir.
Indeed, Toronto Mayor Rob Ford might be even be wise to include a dress code that requires him to wear fire-retardant fabric, with a colour scheme that works well during poorly-lit camera shoots. But as of press time, no such rule had yet been imposed at Canada‘s largest city hall and all questions on dress codes were, allegedly, being referred to Mr Ford’s brother and a high school running back.
So hat’s off to our premiere for her stance. You know, provided it’s a hat that meets the dress code.