Lately I’ve found myself, apropos of nothing much, using the phrase “loose garment.” Maybe because I have worn the world like a straitjacket for much of my life, the whole concept strikes me as carefree and expansive and new. Yesterday I found myself wondering what exactly a loose garment looks like. What image did “loose garment” conjure up in my mind? What style of loose garment might people actually don for various occasions that call for wearing the world like a loose garment?
Here, for instance, is a number you might want to slip into just before the mechanic reports that your car failed the smog test.
This might be something to throw on in the next minute or so after your computer crashes.
Suppose you inadvertently drop your cell phone in the toilet. You might want to rush to your sewing machine and whip yourself up one of these.
Or say the cops call to say your kid’s in jail (again) for shoplifting. This might be something nice for when you go down to the station to bail her out:
You’re on the tarmac when the pilot announces a mechanical glitch that will take hours to repair. Before deplaning, you’ll probably want to leap to your feet, yank open the overhead bin, and prise this item from your suitcase:
Then there are the really heavy-duty crises: the dog dies, your husband loses his job.
And finally, the devastating, ghastly, hideous day when your agent calls and says the publisher rejected your manuscript. In that case, only one loose garment will do:
What kind of loose garment(s) do YOU wear?!