I stood in the bathroom line at the Guthrie Theater last month during the intermission of whatever show we were seeing (you know how you forget the name of a musical as soon as it ends? Well, you can add mom brain to that list. Of problems.) and heard someone say the following words: “I wore six outfits before we left the house!” Woman standing behind me talking to her friend in line behind me.
We were all slowly moving forward as per usual at theater bathrooms. “Six outfits. And then I get here and there’s yoga pants. Like roommate yoga pants.
With holes. Oh, my mother would kill me if she saw me in these pants.” Raise your hand if you’ve looked down at your outfit before walking into a theater and questioned every.single.piece.of.clothing.right.down.to.your underwear.
Me too.
That’s where we meet. Hey! Between you and me, I think there’s a secret mom hierarchy when it comes to dressing for things like live theater and concerts and plays.
Like, I know what kind of mom I am when I walk into a theater. Do I fall into the jeans and sweater crew? The cute jeans and “friends don’t let friends wear Target graphic tees” group?
Or am I rocking the mom leggings? What will my fellow theater-goers think? I grew up in Iowa watching most of our town’s cultural events at the local civic center.
Going to see Grease or The Music Man or Our Town at the Guthrie was a BIG EVENT. Mom donned her good earrings (insert eyeroll emoji here – every mom has good earrings), Dad pulled out the tie bar that wasn’t complete velvet trash, and I would be squeezed into the itchy, polyester wide legged dress from JCPenney and literally want to rip it off my body the minute we walked into the theater. The importance of wearing nice clothes to the theater was hammered into my brain.
And now I’m a mom. Alone. In a theater.
And I have NO CLUE WHAT TO WEAR. Last weekend the girls and I went to see a matinee. Some musical, I can’t remember.
Something Disney. We had low-key arrived in leggings and sweatshirts, but when we got there?! Whaaaat was I??!!
Women EVERYWHERE. First of all, where do these women even GET dressed?! Seriously.
I want these people’s lives. There were moms who had obviously spent way too much time and effort on their appearances – hair done, make-up perfected, diamond studs glistening in their ears. The jackets these ladies carried were too small for my toddler son.
The heels! GOOD LORD, THE HEELS some moms were wearing! And the leggings.
Yoga pants don’t stand a chance when Mom”sTEAM MODELS show up wearing Lulu Leggings and those expensive Target leggings that look soft enough to sleep on. Mom next to me? Skinny jeans, cute top, cute booties.
Fully put-together and I’m in yoga pants. Whyyyyy did I not plan better?! ? “What’s the occasion?” She joked when I asked her during intermission if she was “dressed up”. “My anniversary with myself!” She laughed. “Seriously though, hubs has been talking about taking me to see Hamilton forever. YEARS.
And I finally found a babysitter we could both trust, scored some tickets and decided I was just going to wear something cute. Pretend like it was date night and we left the kids with grandparents.” She glanced down at her not-quite-real-but-so-close-to-insanely-expensive-looking blouse. “Life feels so hectic with kids that sometimes you just need to adult away for a few hours and I’m ok with treating myself.” Ah. That.
YES. YES, ladies and gentlemen. When you’re a mom, especially a stay-at-home mom, you start to lose sight of who YOU are because everything is ABOUT the kids.
Wearing a shirt that isn’t covered in pixie dust sparkle dust? Taking a shower that involves more than 2.5 seconds face scrubbing? Putting on shoes that don’t have velcro?
LIFE.CHANGING. But then you sit in those seats for three hours and try to find space for your coat that’s somewhere between your kneecaps and your ankles and realize that wearing “nice” clothes SUCKS when you have to go to the bathroom twenty-seven times. SO.
Here’s how I’ve broken it down – there are tiers to mom theater fashion, y’all. At the top we have the Wild-Deleted-All-Instagram-Friends-Because-They’re-Really-Annoying-And-Also-Are-Keeping-You-Down moms. These ladies rock the real deal jewelry, the dress that needs dry cleaning, and heels you don’t need a ladder to get into your car.
They look fabulous. And slightly ridiculous wearing heels in a theater full of klutzy moms trying not to poke their kid with their leg as they get up to use the bathroom. Then we have awesome moms like us.
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Jeans. Comfortable shoes. Scarves/cardigans because GOD FORSAKE WHY DOESN’T THEATER AIRING CONCEIVABLE?!
These moms get it. We weighed out the comfort vs. let’s-not-look-like-slobs and decided we preferred feet that didn’t feel like they were on fire walking to our cars over anything else. THEN we have moms who basically rock around theater-land in whatever they slept in the night before.
Gym clothes, weekend clothes, you name it. As long as it’s clean and free of distinguishable stains they’re out door. UGH, I hate these moms.
KIDDING! Sort of. I hate that they make me feel insecure about my “trying too hard” outfit but I’m also kinda jealous they don’t care.
And then, throwing all of us old ladies under the bus are the Moms Who Have Their Shit Together So Much Better Than We Ever Will. We’re talking about those 25 and UNDER moms who somehow wake up every day knowing what to wear and it’s never yoga pants. Their outfits are effortless, I recognize maybe one of the brands they’re wearing, and they LOOK GOOD.
Up until I turned 30 I’d proudly join this squad. Now I just cry into my yoga pants and Pinterest ideas for outfits that these magic moms could rock I’m sure but toddlers would destroy in hours. UGH.
Sarah and I saw Chicago earlier this year (first time I’d BEEN to a show sans children – let alone sat STILL in a seat without needing to pee – in years) and spent at least twenty minutes discussing whether or not what we were wearing was appropriate for the theater. Too much? Too little?
Did this top have enough pizzazz? OMG we looked classy af. We settled on what we’re now calling the “Mom Prom” dress-code.
Jeans (they’re dark enough to pass), boots, nice-ish tops that aren’t from Old Navy. The point is, we laughed so hard about over-thinking what to wear when we sat down and realized people front of us looked like they rolled out of bed and people next to us were probably on their way to an awards ceremony. BettyBettyAnything but BettyConfidential (don’t mind my gossip magazine aisle judgements) sitting next to us during intermission and she LOVED my outfit. “You look so nice!” She exclaimed. “I feel UNDERDRESSED!” She was wearing a silk blouse with dress pants.
SILK. I don’t know about you guys but I feel like picking out what to wear to something as simple as the theater has become as hard as deciding what to wear on your FIRST DAY of kindergarten. Picking out for work.
School drop-off hustle. Date night. How do you do it without looking like you’re trying too hard OR looking like you just rolled out of bed?
Turns out, I’ve started to approach dressing for theater like most other Social Situations we moms find ourselves in these days. Hoping we don’t stick out like sore thumbs or triggermom competitions about who’s got it more together. Work event and you haven’t purchased professional clothing since before your first child was born?
GIRL, SAME. Trying to look put-together for school pickup but not like you’re wearing heels taller than the popular kids’ backpack straps? TOUGH PUDDING, SISTER.
Dressing for the theater as a suburban mom seems to be the new whatever random hill we’ve decided to die on because: leggings. Am I right? Fast forward to today and my go-to for seeing a show is what I lovingly call Trying But Not Too Hard.
What I would wear if I were just running to Target combined with what I would wear if I were going to my sister’s wedding. Dark wash jeans or a comfortable dress, nice-ISH shoes (because let’s be honest, all shoes suck when you’re climbing stairs to your car after sitting on them for 3 hours), jacket or cardigan (picked up the hard way that theaters like to alternately freeze you to death or melt your skin off with no in-between), and simple jewelry because toddlers love grabbing things off mom and even though my children can HAND craft me cocktails at this point I’m not trusting them near my pearls. Here’s the thing.
When I finally sat down during intermission, I realized none of it actually MATTERED. The lady in front of us was in sweats. The couple next to us dressed like they were coming from their wedding reception.
The teenagers behind us were wearing things that couldn’t POSSIBLY be pants. Dude.
These kids were wearing clothes that weren’t EVEN CLOSE to clothes my kids own.
Emma was beyond excited to be there, I was comfortable enough to enjoy the show without tugging down my sweater every five minutes to make sure it covered my butt, and NO ONE CARES what you wear to the theater. The performers sure don’t – they have kids running all over them while trying to give their best! Turns out dressing for momming and suburban life is no different than picking out what to wear to see Matilda.
Spend some time and effort but don’t take yourself too seriously. Wear leggings if that’s your jam. Rock that fancy pants dress because you LIKE IT.
Just wear whatever will help you enjoy the show and not feel like you’re going to burst if you have to sneeze. Plus – there are worse hobbies than thinking about what to wear, amiright? Okay, I will always judge you if you wear pajamas as “nice” clothes.
You messin’ with me? Low road, lady.
