August, 1997
The traditional Yankee never made a fashion statement, dressed for success, or assembled a succinct wardrobe, whatever that is. He never went to a power lunch, took a power nap, or had his barber give him a power hairdo, either.
When he was cold, he bundled up; when hot, he peeled down. He owned one suit. In said suit, he graduated from high school, got married, and attended christenings, weddings, plays, the opera, corn huskings, barn raisings, and quilting bees. He was finally buried in it.
On a clothing budget of $20 a year, he stayed decent and comfortable. He shopped at the Five and Ten or out of the Sears and Roebuck catalogue. For Christmas, his wife and children gave him two pair of socks and three bandanna handkerchiefs. He inherited a sheepskin coat from his father, wore long johns in the winter and a short-sleeved white garment in summer... For work he wore overalls. When he was cold he put on a Beach vest, a fleece-lined, black-and-white article.
That was then. Then some fashionable, materialistic Yuppies came up the pike, met some locals, married them, and in due time produced children, known as Yunkees.
Two fashion cultures clashed - the ever-practical Yankee, inventor of the earmuff, and the Yuppie, from whence came the credit card and something called a Polo crested blazer striped sweater.
Now the modern Yankee/Yuppie executive attempts to take on the best of both worlds. If it looks good on him, he wears it. Wide red suspenders might look great on Don Johnson or Michael Douglas. But if he feels more like Ronald McDonald in them, forget it...
I guess the clue for dressing fashionably is to wear what others in the office do. If your fellow workers sport chartreuse T-shirts with the logo "Souvenir of Spike's Bowling Alley, Far Rockaway," go thou and do likewise. BUT if your buddies look as though they just stepped out of a GQ Hart, Schaffner and Marx ad for classic image, contemporary shouldered besom reverse pleats suits, clutch your credit cards in your hot little hands and buy, buy, BUY!!!
How to tell a Canadian tourist from an American? Listen up. That fellow over there heading beachward, wearing a bathing suit, no shoes and a thong around his neck holding his keys, that's the Canadian.
The tourist with the beach blanket, umbrella, chair, cooler, radio/TV, magazines, books, papers, kites, frisbees, and beach
balls is the American. If he has offspring, they gamely lug pails, shovels, sand molds, sand strainers, Velcro balls and mitts,
anything Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or Bart Simpson has taken over lately, books, magazines, surfboards, coolers, Robin Hood lunch boxes, complete sets of Nancy Drew mysteries . . .The Canadian came to get a sunburn, and by George that's what he's going to do!
The American hates to waste time, even on vacation he has to be busy, working on his stock portfolio, income tax, daily horoscope. Between the raindrops he dictates into his pocket recorder or plans the next change in his will.
Now you know the difference, but, you ask, just who is the third category of human over there, the one fully dressed, wearing shoes, is pale, and flinches at loud rock and roll?
If you spy one of these creatures be kind to him or her, treat them gently, for they are as endangered a species as any mountain gorilla, black rhino, or Chinese Panda. I am referring of course, to that patient, forbearing soul, the Maine resident!
Copyright © Elizabeth Nieuwland
All rights reserved.
Elizabeth Nieuwland is a humor writer living in Old Orchard Beach who has been published in four books.