DC diary

Most '36 hours in...'-type city guides leave out the nitty-gritty, highlighting the, well, highlights, and leaving out the actual experience of travel. So I'll begin with the bus. All told, it was a super-efficient and cheap way to get to DC. But be warned: the person in the seat in front of you may not consider the possibility that the person in the seat behind not only can see their screen, but can't so much look anywhere else, line-of-vision being what it is. On the way to DC, a young man was writing a clearly semi-autobiographical novel (labeled "Novel.doc") about a 22-year-old man sleeping with a skanky but hot 15-year-old girl. On the way back, a young woman received instant messages from her boyfriend (?) about how he was getting his "peanut" (this was his preferred euphemism; unfortunate given that I'd brought peanuts to eat on the ride) ready for her visit. There was more detail, but she did eventually alert him to the possibility that someone could see whatever he planned to type. Or show. Video-chat plus wifi in public areas, indeed.

The trip overall was a success. Jo finally saw the US capital, I finally met some people I'd met through blogging (but not all the people I meant to! not having Internet while in DC might have been a mistake), and we both inadvertently preceded Obama on his pre-presidency tour of DC. If we'd only gone to the Lincoln Memorial at night as suggested, it could have been us, rather than a near-toothless, bored-seeming man, being interviewed on the news about a chance sighting of The Most Important Family Ever.

On that note, the whole city is Obama'd out, and it's bizarre. Every ad campaign (Coke and Pepsi, IKEA, etc.) incorporates either an Obama slogan ('Yes we can change, hope, etc.'), logo, idea, in one way or another. The Metro tickets have Obama's face on them, as do mugs and shot glasses at CVS. Every store, whatever it normally sells, also sells Obama gear. Yes, it is possible to be glad Obama won and to think the presidency is, all told, a job and not a messianic arrival. The constant reminders to worship Obama, combined with the book selection here, very nearly turned me into an honest-to-goodness Republican. Coincidentally, I am a Republican, but only because I wanted to vote against Huckabee in the primaries, and they only just now switched my registration. So it goes.

To end on a non-DC-specific note, every young woman in the city not in business dress opts for the North Face-Uggs combo, the official outfit of the the American bourgeoisie. I didn't realize this was still the thing, but it is.

I know, I know, I'm one to talk. And, in the look's defense, it's pro-woman, in a way, to have a style that requires no particular build, and that is if anything more comfortable than anything men would ever wear. And perhaps it's just that Georgetown undergrads and entry-level government workers off to brunch have more important things on the agenda than fashion, and are not as superficial as New York women. (I don't actually think caring how one dresses means being superficial, but I'm beginning with the counter-argument, so bear with me.)

But... it's not the most attractive outfit. And I'm not clear adopting the look is taking a stand against superficiality. Fleeces and winter boots identical in every way to these brands, or even more attractive versions thereof, are readily available, and often less expensive. But it's not permitted to branch out in this way. A comparison could be made to leggings-as-pants, which have long been something of a uniform in parts of NYC. But at least you can rarely tell what brand the leggings are, or how much they cost, although you can guess they were indeed cheaper than real pants. (Not that this is defends not wearing pants.) The all-American pseudo-uniform is not about wearing a fleece and winter boots. It's about wearing these particular fleeces and winter boots, as though one had stock in the companies. DC has nearly all the same stores as New York, so it's not as though there's this one shop with only these two brands. There is clearly some unwritten law against an Old Navy fleece and Emu boots. Go with the wrong labels, and reveal your (or your parents') poverty. Go with a totally different outfit, and risk who knows what.

(Over-) Analysis Section: Seeing one young woman after the next in the same outfit made me wonder if there's a connection between the alleged 'hook-up culture' (there has to be a less grating way to put this) and the fact that every college woman wears the exact same outfit. Women caring how they dress and a culture of dating, monogamy, or even old-fashioned promiscuity might go hand in hand. Or not. But what one does notice is that when all women are dressed alike, there's no room for personal style to make up for a lack of conventional beauty. Tall, thin, blond women stand out. In subcultures with a bit more style flexibility, that's not always the case. Rather than making it so looks don't matter, the one-outfit rule makes looks matter more. It's true with mandatory uniforms as well as the one discussed above.