White.

I broke a fairly widespread fashion rule today. I hadn’t even heard of said rule until the late 90s when I was living in Michigan, of all places.

“No white clothing after Labor Day,” they’d say.

Huh? Really? No white? What about winter white? What about getting married between Labor Day and Memorial Day? OK, I’m sure brides get a free pass, but still.

I looked in my closet this morning and saw a lot of black. I love black, so naturally I own a ton of it. As I scanned my options, I was fast-forwarding to next week and mentally reserving dark slacks for Monday, Tuesday, specific meetings…but what to wear today?

Meh, I suppose the white skinny jeans staring at me will work. For one, they’re clean. Two, it’s toasty out. Three, rules schmules. Who cares that it’s after Labor Day?

Oh, the stink-eye! The scrutiny! The snickering! The doesn’t-she-know?! glances.

Yes, I know. Yes, I’ve heard about your rules. It’s just that I don’t really care. And neither did Coco Chanel. So there. Neener, neener!

I did some minor research and found that many notable fashion-savvy folk exist who think the white rule is silly. I read about its origin, I read perspectives by those who still embrace the rule and, you know, I think I’ll wear white again next Friday. I might make it a thing, a ritual — looks and glances be damned!

I was thinking about how many things we build up as truth in our minds, and how unnecessary those silly little beliefs are. Clothing — a luxury and in short supply in many parts of this world — inspires trends, rules, must-haves and seasonal mandatories only in countries familiar with plenty. Like ours.

Tonight I am acutely aware that my pair of white jeans which, perhaps to some, should be relegated to the back of my closet until next season is the very pair that someone else might cherish and wear proudly year-round. And so shall I. Tonight I am thankful for our land of plenty and for having more than enough. How blessed we are.

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