?Fuzzy Slippers
In the past 18 months I’ve seen more videos, commercials, cartoons, and posts about fuzzy slippers than I’ve seen in the rest of my life.
I kind of feel left out because I don’t have a pair of these symbols of comfort, and haven’t had fuzzy slippers since I was a little kid.
Truth be told, I don’t like wearing slippers, fuzzy or otherwise.
Joining the fuzzy slippers in universal pandemic work-from-home attire are sweat pants, hoodies, and any other item of clothing that both looks and feels like a blanket.
Again, my wardrobe is devoid of sweats or hoodies.
The reason for these glaring omissions from my wardrobe is simple: I grew up with a bunch of uncles who were all in the garment trade, and who, as a result, always dressed in tailored clothing. Consequently, I feel really comfortable in a suit or other dress clothes.
If I’m going to be more casual, about the most casual that I go is jeans, cords, or shorts.
A number of years ago, when I was still on the bench, I needed to pick up my mom from her apartment at the end of the day. Because I had been in hearings all day, and therefore wearing my robes, I had opted for a sport jacket and tie, rather than a suit. After all, the robes covered the jacket, so no one would see my grievous sartorial transgression. No one, of course, except my mother, who when she saw me wearing the sport jacket, dress shirt, tie, and dress slacks, said to me, “Didn’t you go into work today?” There was not a hint of sarcasm or humor in her comment!!!
In any case, I think that most people, myself excepted, have felt the need for cozy clothing over the past 18 months, just as we’ve all gravitated to food that tastes homey and comforting. With all of the stress and trauma that we’ve all been witnessing and experiencing, each of us has needed to try to find comfort where we can.
There isn’t a day where I don’t get a beautifully photographed catalog full of cozy, chunky sweaters, or of pictures of breakfast baked goods or chocolates. It’s a good thing that I’m getting the sweater catalogs, because all of the baked goods and chocolates are causing me to need larger clothing. At this rate, if things don’t change soon, I’m going to start looking like the Michelin tire man!!
Now, our need for cozy clothing and comforting, homey food aren’t the only ways in which we are reaching out to find something that will ease our stress and boost our spirits.
The constant barrage of tragedy, catastrophe, and other horrible things coming across our tv’s, computers, tablets and phone screens never seems to abate. For those who are old-fashioned and who actually read print journalism (newspapers and magazines), the story is no different.
I’ve reached the point where I can’t watch the evening news anymore. At least if I read something in print, I can stop reading when the onslaught of bad news gets too much. And, best of all, I don’t have to hear or see the gorgeous people uttering the terrifying broadcasts. I think that I would probably relate better to news delivered by a BBC presenter; you know, those folks who are presented in the Fred Rogers style of somewhat frumpy cardigan, hair not coiffed to within an inch of its life. At least these people make me feel comfortable to look at them; they’re relatable.
Just as I’m more comfortable with the relatable, frumpy presenter, I find that my tv-watching preferences are again at odds with what so many other folks are looking at for comfort. I’ve probably moved away from many sit-coms, with the exception of a few that are really well-written, such as Modern Family or Will and Grace.
Nope, for me, what makes me feel less stressed, less down on the depressing realities of life, are foreign mysteries. Give me Vera, or Midsomer Murders or Father Brown any day. Yes, people are getting murdered on these shows, but it’s not real. These are actors wearing fake gore, who go back to their homey villages at the end of the day. They wipe off their make-up,?put on the worn-out cardigan and pour themselves a glass of Scotch or wine.
For some weird reason, my tension and stress are eased by the unreal stories presented on these mysteries. If I watch fiction, I’m not upset by it. I like to find the humor in the stories where possible, but I’m even more calmed and entertained if I can pick out the flaws in the story.
Now, I don’t think that I’m in urgent need of therapy because of my unique viewing habits; I just want an escape from brutal reality.
Some day, perhaps soon, we’ll all feel a little calmer, a little less on edge. When that day comes, I’m hoping to get back to wanting to watch marathon hours of stupid comedies. But for now, here I sit, in my pressed slacks, watching foreign mysteries.
Mike Snyder
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