The dress code here On The Fahm is pretty casual; it simply doesn't do to clean mouse poo, remove mouse carcasses, mow the fields, weed the tomatoes, etc. etc. etc., et al, ad infinitum (my Latin may not be perfect but you get the gist) in a smoking jacket or ball gown. This summer has found us both sporting mostly shorts and tanks and zorries (some people call these thing "flip flops"), although when I forage or Raj hunts-to-kill the Tree of Poison, we put on permanently stained and grievously torn long trousers for the job.
Winter here, in Raj's case, means long underwear, a flannel shirt, Levi's 501's, woolen socks and hat, and either waterproof sneakers or boots. I am typically attired in thick non-constricting-at-my-tummy stretchy pants, two long-sleeved t-shirts over a tank top, heavy cotton socks, and waterproof shoes or boots when I can't get away with wearing my vivid turquoise Crocs.
However, Off The Fahm is an entirely different matter - for me, at least; Raj tends a little more toward the casual. Depending upon why Raj is going Into Town, he may or may not wash his face and/or put on a clean shirt. A trip to the hardware store in the middle of repairing the tractor does not require any sartorial adjustment; going to The Mountain Barn Restaurant for dinner does.
It could be all the Laura Ingalls Wilder stories I read as a girl or stories from my Dad's childhood on a farm in rural Arkansas, but I retain some small notion that A Trip Into Town constitutes an Event, and therefore one must be suitably attired, or at least wash face & hands, subdue hair, put on clean clothes, and be neat as a pin before going. Admittedly I sometimes overdue it...
...but my intentions are good, and I hope Holden Townies and Princeton Locals have enough good Yankee sense to see this as a display of exuberance rather than of outright insanity.*
Winter here, in Raj's case, means long underwear, a flannel shirt, Levi's 501's, woolen socks and hat, and either waterproof sneakers or boots. I am typically attired in thick non-constricting-at-my-tummy stretchy pants, two long-sleeved t-shirts over a tank top, heavy cotton socks, and waterproof shoes or boots when I can't get away with wearing my vivid turquoise Crocs.
However, Off The Fahm is an entirely different matter - for me, at least; Raj tends a little more toward the casual. Depending upon why Raj is going Into Town, he may or may not wash his face and/or put on a clean shirt. A trip to the hardware store in the middle of repairing the tractor does not require any sartorial adjustment; going to The Mountain Barn Restaurant for dinner does.
It could be all the Laura Ingalls Wilder stories I read as a girl or stories from my Dad's childhood on a farm in rural Arkansas, but I retain some small notion that A Trip Into Town constitutes an Event, and therefore one must be suitably attired, or at least wash face & hands, subdue hair, put on clean clothes, and be neat as a pin before going. Admittedly I sometimes overdue it...
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| Running errands at Big Y Plaza, Holden, MA |
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| In line at Barre Savings Bank, Princeton, MA. |
* Photos of Bjork courtesy of Hellomagazine.com
