It has been quite cold lately here in BHDville. When I got home from work the other day, I changed clothes from my dressy work duds to more comfortable clothing and boots. Because it is so cold, I thought nothing of pulling on a pair of regular black leather jeans, my new long-sleeved leather shirt, and a pair of Chippewa hi-shine engineer boots. Comfy casual wear for me.
I prepared dinner for the spouse and myself, then pulled on my Langlitz Crescent jacket, donned a Harley ball cap and headed out to a community meeting…
…one of those drudge but-ya-gotta-go kind of things about changes to a local shopping center.
I arrived at the meeting and greeted a number of neighbors and community wonks I know who turn out for these kind of meetings.
A developer’s attorney was explaining the “solutions” that they were bringing with new businesses and construction of this local eyesore. I always love these “solutions.” I don’t know how we ever could survive without some developer’s attorney’s “solutions.” (I swear, if that attorney used the word “solutions” 1,000 times, he used it 999 times too much!)
Context for newer readers of this blog — I once served in a non-partisan elected position where I chaired these meetings. The current Chair is someone I know well. And due to my past civic engagement and experience, I am well-known in the community about wonky issues like this.
So there I am, minding my own business and kinda drifting away in thought when the Chair asked for my opinion on all these “solutions.” I rose and spoke from where I was seated. I was attentive enough to the presentation and had done my homework, so I was able to point out some issues of concern (for which the attorney did not have any “solutions”) and suggest some ways to deal with them. The general consensus of the audience was in agreement. The Chair thanked me, I sat down, and only then did I realize that…
I was wearing a leather shirt, leather jeans, black boots, and speaking before 200 people.
Who woulda thunk?
Yep, you can wear leather in public.
At the end of the meeting, neighbors and colleagues chatted with me about some of the issues remaining to be resolved (I can’t wait to hear those “solutions!”). But no one — not a one — said anything about how I was dressed.
People are far more concerned with what I know and what I talk about than what I am wearing.
I got into my truck at the end of the meeting and got home by my usual bedtime of 2030. Greeted the spouse (who remarked how cold my leather felt), and then we both went to bed. End-of-evening.
Life is short: leather in public? No big deal.