If clothes make the man (or the woman), what are we to make of the way we dress now?

Years ago a friend who was from the South remarked to me that her brother, in Hagerstown for a visit, had remarked to her that the girls here were "so ugly."

I was a little startled by that. Then she explained.

Seems he'd stopped by the mall, where most of the girls were dressed … let's say casually.

Apparently in their corner of the South, girls got all gussied up just to go to the mall. Or the grocery store. Or anywhere.

Speaking strictly for myself, I don't feel the need to apologize for wearing practical clothes to shop in.

But it does strike me that, particularly in this post-pandemic era, it's got to be a pretty special occasion for anyone to bother to dress up at all. And even for a special occasion, it's iffy.

Or maybe I'm just feeling my age. Because when I was growing up, everybody dressed up for work, school, parties, etc. My mother, for example, was excruciatingly particular about how I was dressed. I can remember being dressed in my Easter suit at age 3 or 4 to go to the doctor. My cousin Teresa still teases me about how she hated to play with me "because you weren't allowed to get dirty."

I also wasn't allowed to wear jeans to school — until that fateful day in junior high when Mom was sick and Dad was in charge. I slipped on some jeans and a sweatshirt he'd bought me while he was on a business trip.

"Dad, is this OK?"

"Yeah, that's OK," he said after a cursory glance. "You ready?"

Mom was none too pleased when she found out, but the line had been crossed and there was no going back. "They're not faded or ragged," Dad said. "Let 'er wear 'em."

But she did add some conditions — the jeans had to be clean and neatly pressed.

"You iron your jeans?" an incredulous friend said when she saw me standing at the board, trying to get the creases straight.

"You look dressed up even when you're wearing jeans," another said. Mom took that as a compliment. I thought I noted a tone of derision in it.

I immediately stopped ironing jeans when I started college. In fact, there was one pair of never-ironed jeans I just loved even though they were faded, and a little ragged, too. I didn't care. They were my "test-taking jeans," and I wore them every time I had an exam … for luck or something.

That is, until they disappeared when I came home for the summer and Mom sunnily volunteered to do my laundry.

I did, however, inherit at least a portion of Mom's clothes-consciousness. When I started working, I knew my appearance would make an impression — even more so because I was short and skinny and looked like I was 12. I knew I had to dress professionally to be taken seriously.

Even at the mall.

I discovered quite by accident that I got better service if I were wearing dress clothes. I walked into a store one week dressed in jeans and waited for what seemed like forever for service. Walked into the same store after work a week later, still wearing business clothes, and was served right away.

And I wasn't the only one affected. While I was working at my first job in the area, we hired a young reporter fresh out of college, and I was his supervisor. The men in that office wore ties every day — except this one. He always looked like an unmade bed.

A co-worker volunteered to lend him some shirts. "Can we at least get him to wear a tie?" my boss asked.

Many of my employers, in fact, have had rules for appearance. I was required to dress up when I was a magazine editor in Chicago. And while the state was not my employer, there was a statehouse dress code when I covered the Maryland General Assembly, and I took it seriously. Maybe too seriously. One day a visitor to Annapolis stopped me on Lawyer's Mall and asked if I were a senator.

I apparently no longer looked like I was 12.

But these days, it seems as if nobody ever dresses up. We were preparing to attend another cousin's wedding several years ago, and my father had pulled on a sweater for the occasion. I suggested he wear a jacket and tie instead. It was a wedding, after all.

His eyes narrowed. "She's my niece," he said. It wasn't like he was the one giving her away.

"But she'll be wearing a formal gown," I replied. "Shouldn't the rest of us dress up a little, too?" It just seemed silly to me that with the bridal party wearing gowns and tuxedoes, we should show up in sweaters and cords.

He put on the jacket and tie. And when we arrived, we discovered he was in the minority. Most of the men were wearing khakis and sweaters.

Then there was the young girl's Easter finery at a service I recently attended, comprised of jeans and a T-shirt that said "Jesus is my jam!" I sat there in my dress and heels thinking how Mom wouldn't have let me out of the house in those clothes.

Now I'm the last one who's going to argue with the notion of dressing comfortably. I'm wearing jeans (not pressed!) and a T-shirt as I'm writing. Dressing up is a bit of a chore. Pantyhose are a pain. High heels can be, too. Literally.

I stepped outside the office wearing dress boots with stiletto heels one day, and someone on the sidewalk immediately complimented my taste in chic footwear. I thanked them, but honestly, those boots weren't made for walkin'. They were starting to hurt. Being a slave to fashion can have considerable disadvantages.

Washington County's economic progress is leaving some of us behind. How can we help?

But it's still kind of a shame we don't put so much effort into it anymore.

Because really, some of you scrub up pretty good, as they might say in the South.

This article originally appeared on The Herald-Mail: Has the way we dress gotten too informal?