The invitation said “casual” dress. So Gramps and I took them at their word and arrived in jeans and T-shirts. The only other couple we knew, besides the hosts, were also dressed as we were.
Everyone else had on slacks, blouses and button-down shirts. We four looked like the country bumpkins of the group.
How did they know what “casual” meant? How did we not?
At first, I was just embarrassed. I felt I had somehow let our hosts down, that I had embarrassed them in some way.
Then the four of us began to be treated as if we were inferior to everyone. As if we did not understand what they were talking about. As if we were confused children.
Even our hosts were rude to us and shamed us in front of the others. If it hadn’t hurt so much, I probably would have found it interesting what a difference our clothes made in that social situation.
Because we were underdressed, we weren’t allowed to fit in the group. We were laughed at, ignored and talked down to – because of our attire!
By then, I was angry and wanted to leave. But the other three of our little foursome didn’t want to give up so easily. So we four formed our own small party.
We partook of the food, the drinks, the lovely home and our own companionship. We found our own little spot and had a great conversation all to ourselves.
I have no idea what the rest of those people did or talked about.
But when Gramps and I left, we could honestly tell the hostess, “We had a great time!”