If the Key Fits

Thirty odd years ago, I sat in my much older sister-in-laws’ kitchen ridiculing her then in style “old-lady” Vera blouse, the same as my mother’s. She cautioned me that every generation has its “uniform” and mine was jeans with tops. She said as far as she and her peers were concerned, we we were wearing laborer's clothing as dress apparel.  Hubby and I still wear them, but so do my kids and grandkids, so denim pants certainly are not just for the over 65 set.

 For 35-years I have yet been able to pinpoint an “old people” style for mine. A very funny Facebook post a Facebook friend recently shared hit me like a brick as to my generations “uniform,” and it isn’t one to be found in clothing stores. She wrote about how she and her 3 young children exited a super market, piled into a van, packages and all, only to have one of her son’s say, “Mom, this isn’t our car.”

Clothes don’t define my generation. Our cars do. My young friend’s post was about vans, trucks, whatever you may want to call them. I guarantee you will find few seniors on Social Security driving 7-passenger vehicles unless the owners live near all of their grandkids and have to drive their carpools.

Fifteen years ago most of my peers drove a white anything-manufactured by Toyota, cars. Through the years we switched to gray ones but recently white full-sized cars by various manufacturers seem to be making a comeback as the “old-people uniform” automobile color.

As I’m writing this, my memory has been jogged about a parking lot incident with my friends about ten years ago.  My Mah Jongg group had met for lunch. Three of the five of us had driven.  After lunch, we returned to our same model, different year, cars. Two of us could not open the doors. The third, along with her passenger, started to laugh. “I guess I’m lucky,” she called to us. “My car is a different shade of gray.” 

So, sister-in-law up in heaven, you were right. Each generation has their uniform.  Do I dare say that “texting” belongs to the next generation?