Romper Room

When I look at what people are wearing as they pass me by, I am culling information. Noticing how they put together their outfits. Storing away compelling combinations. Judgments are not the first things to form. Yet because of this blog and the sometimes strong personal opinions that I present here, I've been to more than one gathering where someone has mentioned that they spent longer thinking about what to wear because they knew that I would be present.

No one need worry. I have not titled myself judge, jury, and executioner. However, there are some wardrobe choices that I can’t help but judge. Tights worn as pants. Leggings worn as pants. Jeggings. Items that look like someone simply lifted the pattern from the 1980s. I could come up with a few more if I gave myself time, but the list wouldn't grow much in length.

The arrival of the sun and its long, luxurious days has forced another into my view.

I don't know who decided that rompers should become a viable option for females over the age of eight. I had rompers at one point in my life. I probably dirtied them rather easily as I had a liking for digging holes and playing with worms at a young age. But then I grew up and out of clothes meant to compliment diapers and pigtails and ringlets and playgrounds.

Even with the infantilizing nature of rompers (or playsuits if one wants to leave no doubt that you have stolen your outfit from a four year old), my distaste would be moot if I'd ever seen anyone look even mediocre in one. The issue with any one-piece item, but especially those involving a pants-like element, is that rare is the woman who is the same size on the top and the bottom. That's why finding a bikini sold in a set is nearly impossible. Why almost all suits are offered in separates. Because if bought in one, there will inevitably be one piece that fits perfectly while the other does not.

And above all else, I believe fit is the most important thing. Even more important than not looking like you belong on a swing set.