No Suit, No Tie, No Worries in Retirement

Retirement is awesome. And delightfully casual. Even so, you’d better not wear white socks with sandals, even retirees have standards.

There I was, the best man, standing proud beside my friend at his wedding. I looked to the audience and then to myself and the groom, grinning at our casual attire.

Brightly patterned Hawaiian shirts with blue jeans were the rule of the day.

We’re all retired and there’s no reason to dress up. Even at a wedding. In fact, the original idea for his wedding was to wear togas, but that was vetoed by the bride. “We have standards,” she declared.

A casual retirement

I’ve been retired for almost a year now and I haven’t worn a tie even once. The few I have hang like dead snakes in my closet, collecting dust. My dress jackets are in solitary downstairs, marking time with their corresponding slacks, waiting to be sentenced to donation.

I just don’t dress up anymore, now that I’m not working — or working to impress anyone.

Retirement comes with special benefits, casual dress being one of them. My new uniform consists of t-shirts or wrinkle-free button-ups, jeans, and slip-on tennis shoes (slip-on because it’s easier than bending over to tie them).

I’m not a rebel or a hermit. I take showers and comb the hair I have left. I go to the symphony, plays, cocktail parties, and various upscale events. When I do, I wear one of my nicer shirts and clean jeans (maybe khakis if it’s quite the fête).

But never a dress jacket. Well, almost never.

Only once in retirement have I dressed up. It was with my wife and daughters at a fancy New Year’s Eve gala in an upscale resort in Mexico. I had packed swim trunks, sandals, and t-shirts for the most part, but threw in a jacket at the last minute just in case. The ladies looked so beautiful that I felt compelled to put it on, rub out the wrinkles and properly escort them to the celebration. It lasted about ten minutes — it was too bloody hot. Besides, it didn’t match my sandals.

We have standards

Hobnob is a word no longer in my vocabulary.

Since I have no more meetings with the VP, presentations to the executives, job interviews, or frankly anything to prove to anyone for any reason, I can be perpetually casual. And I am.

Like most retirees, I face the day with a cup of coffee, pajama pants, slippers, and a t-shirt with a pithy statement like “It’s 5 o’clock somewhere!”

But it’s not PJs and coffee-stained shirts all day long, we have standards after all.

Here are some of the unwritten rules we [should] live by:

• Jeans cannot hang down so low on your hips that your underwear shows.
• If you’re old and it’s winter you’re not allowed to wear shorts.
• No white socks with sandals.
• Limit yourself to wearing no more than 5 necklaces at a time. Fewer if they have baubles larger than avocados.
• You cannot wear pajamas all day long unless you’re sick.
• You cannot wear pajamas outside unless you’re just going to the mailbox and back.
• Animals with functioning legs don’t need to be pushed around in strollers.
• No tights if your BMI is over 35.
• Nothing but your personality should be bedazzled.
• Skinny jeans that end above your ankles are for hipsters, not retirees.
• Midriffs are best left covered unless you’re at the beach, and then it’s a judgment call.
• Handbags must be smaller than suitcases.
• No parachute pants, leg warmers, bell bottoms, or spaghetti straps.
• No see-through or peek-a-boo anything.
• Earrings cannot be larger than your head.
• Dogs cannot be smaller than your head.

Casual fashion saves money and effort

My annual clothing and jewelry expenses are less than the cost of a bottle of wine. I have my priorities. Besides I get far more pleasure from good wine than I do from wrinkling a perfectly pressed pair of slacks.

I hate ironing and I hate paying people to iron for me. I’d rather wait for wrinkles to come back in style.

I buy socks that are all identical so I don’t have to pair them up. I toss them unceremoniously into my drawer and just pull out two at random — they’re guaranteed to match every time.

Dress shoes are just clean black tennis shoes. Black matches everything except white socks, which I don’t own any of.

My jewelry will never be stolen from me because I don’t wear it. Clearly, I don’t buy any either. One day my great-grandchildren will unearth my tie clasps, rings, and cufflinks, and ask their mom “what are these for?” She’ll tell them they were used in ancient mating rituals.

The cost of my dry cleaning has plummeted now that I’ve discovered shirts left on hangers for long enough will un-wrinkle themselves. Or get thrown out.

No worries in retirement

Retirement is awesome. After enduring a long career of painful shoes and navy blue straightjackets, we’ve earned the right to live out our final years in comfort.

Plaid and paisley prints have given way to bright tropical flowers.

Hawaiian shirts should be required at all weddings, cocktail parties, and funerals. They’re the great equalizer. Everyone’s a friend when wearing them. It doesn’t matter if you’re rich, poor, smart, tall, or vegetarian. We’re all goofy goobers when wrapped in green leaves and bright blossoms.

Back to the newlyweds: I know they’ll have a happy marriage because they’re great people with good friends and a lot of Hawaiian shirts.

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