Rethinking the Jumpsuit

My sister and I have had a tradition since we were kids of going into stores and picking out the most ridiculous items possible to try on. The uglier, the more ridiculous, the more potential to cause a traffic accident, the better.

Is it made of multiple forms of plastic? Great.

Is the ratio of fringe/bells/tinsel:fabric appreciable? Super.

Does it require batteries? Even better.

Would your cat want to mark it? Jackpot.

Paved with Good Intentions

It really stemmed out of my mom teaching us that window shopping was a fun, inexpensive way to spend quality time together (I’ve mentioned this before – the three of us STILL do this, and it’s one of our most cherished activities). As we got older and began to go places without parental supervision, this pastime denigrated (or blossomed, depending on who you ask) into an exercise in fashion satire.

We’ve gotten stuck in clothing, I once ripped Julianne’s underpants while trying to zip her into a Bebe bodycon dress that was at least two sizes too small, we’ve had to race to bathroom because we’ve peed ourselves with laughter (I don’t know about Julianne, but I definitely have), we’ve tried on dresses that resembled trash bags, sausage casings, and children’s party clown costumes. There have been poofy dresses, booty shorts, and disco flares. And so, so much laughter.

In the Oughts

Especially in the early 2000s, one of our favorite items to jokingly try on was The Jumpsuit. We thought it so gloriously outdated, so innately impractical (those runs to the bathroom? Forget it), and with so much potential for unflattering design, that should we happen upon a jumpsuit in the Macy’s Juniors’ department, it was a no-brainer. We would try it on, it would inevitably not fit, either adding much more attention to the crotch than decency would allow or sag in a melting puddle of polyester on the linoleum floor.

So I always approached the jumpsuit with a specific brand of sunny cynicism. I mean, why would an adult wear a glorified onesie? Isn’t that just silly? And what about normal activities like peeing?

To those stodgy voices in my head, may I present these two counterpoints:

1. Why yes, it just might be silly. I might be one of the only people on the planet who is infinitely more open to silliness as an adult than I ever was a kid. With time, life roughs you up a bit and you realize that silliness might just be one of the best gifts we have. So big deal if someone thinks my rad jumpsuit is silly. Bring it on.
2. When all-out silliness is not in your best interest, there are ways to make a jumpsuit more mature. Pick soft, solid colors and use practical accessories, for example. It doesn’t take away the fun of the onesie you’re wearing, but it does ground it a bit.

The Jumpsuit IRL

Last week I wore this outfit to a meeting. Like, with other grown-ups.

[As an aside, please note that I actually took these outfit pictures a few days after, and forgot to wear a bra. Whoops. My boobs ended up so wonky in these photos that I admit to some mild photoshopping to keep you, dear reader, from going cross-eyed. When I wore the outfit for realsies, I definitely wore a bra. For public safety reasons.]

Granted, I work with a lot of creative people, so showing up in a onesie wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. But still, floating around SF in this sage-green number, combined with one of my favorite jackets ever (my mamma gave it to me, isn’t is great?) and some nude stilettos felt like I was in a lovely dream where festival fashion meets business casual. That feeling was unexpected. I assumed I would feel like an overgrown toddler – but quite the contrary.

There is power in knowing exactly what you want to wear and allowing yourself to wear it. That sound obvious, and it definitely is not eloquent, but it’s true. Obviously, I don’t want you to wear your fave Vicky Hush-Hush teddy to the office, because I wouldn’t want you to get fired (but what a marvelous way to go).

But dressing how you want, even if it’s silly at times, is such a powerful message to yourself – that the skin you’re in is JUST FINE – in a world where there are supposed “fashion rules” that only serve to accentuate our culture’s need to evaluate each other on some sort of arbitrary rubric.

So you want to wear that onesie? Wear that f-ing onesie. If people complain, send them to me.

love,

Stig

PS. I HAD to leave this nugget for you, from a website – real website – called sparklearmy.com: