Pleats me.

I knew I was wearing a skirt with some kind of pleat, but I was not sure which kind. Thank goodness for Wikipedia.* After learning the proper term for more than 10 types of pleats, I was able to deduce that the skirt I was wearing today had an "inverted box pleat." I figured this tidbit of knowledge would come in handy for when someone asked: "Hey, what kind of pleat is that?" Strangely, no one did.

I originally debated buying this skirt because to me it looked like culottes -- and I have bad memories of culottes. Does anyone -- other than me and your grandmother -- know what culottes are? I think most Texans call them "skorts." A culotte is basically a pant that look like a skirt -- or is it a skirt that looks like a pant? Food for thought.

So my skirt with the inverted box pleat is reminiscent of a culotte, which brings me to today's flashback (cut to me making waves in the air with my hands a la Wayne's World..do do do do do do do... ) The year was 1989. I was 13 years old and attending 8th grade in San Antonio, Texas. Having just been uprooted from my middle school in Austin, I was struggling to cope (on many different levels).

Texas summers are hot. If you did not know this, you would just need to spend about 2 minutes with me anytime between mid-May and late October and I will constantly remind you just how hot it is. Texas summers are hot and the further south you are the more humid it gets. You could imagine how delightful it was in San Antonio, in August.

I arrived to school, one hot summer day, wearing culottes that hit my knee. I managed to make it half way through the day before I got called into the Principal's office. Why? Oh, did I forget to mention that in 1989 San Antonio the public school system's dress code did not allow you to wear "shorts."

Girls were allowed to wear "skirts" or "pants," but apparently not any combination of the two. I was sent to the Principal's office and made to change in to some grey sweat pants from the lost and found. It was torture. I assume this is what Gitmo was like. I should have sued -- but, since I do not come from a litigious family, we did not sue. However, my parents did vehemently defend my choice of dress and blasted the stupid dress code. We moved back to Austin a year later. I like to think the two events are connected.

I don't remember much else about that school in San Antonio. I can't tell you who my teachers were or what the school mascot was. I sure as hell don't remember the pre-algebra or the Alamo, but I'll be damn if I will ever forget that fashion censorship!

*I love Wikipedia. It is great on so many levels. I think Michael Scott explains it best: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFBDn5PiL00