The End of Dinner (from Wikimedia Commons, the free media repository)
I come from Port Townsend, Washington, a small, laid-back, casual enclave of rather eccentric artists. There, “formal attire” means putting a fresh rubber band in your ponytail. Too, I am a paleontologist. Paleontologists fancy themselves well dressed if they’re wearing clean cargo shorts. So when I bought this cruise around South America on Cunard’s Queen Victoria, I was coming from seriously behind.
You see, Cunard has a strict dress code. All those tuxedoes in the movie Titanic were not James Cameron’s idea, they were Cunard’s. Wear what you will during the day, after six pm you get gussied up. Dinners in the main restaurant are “Smart attire” about two-thirds of the time. The other third of the time, “Gala attire” is dictated, tuxedos for the gentlemen and cocktail length or full-length formal attire for the ladies. Lots of glamour, lots of bling. I had one dress that qualified. One. Actually, three; there were two little black dresses in the back of the closet that still fit, sort of.
At the same time as I was packing for this trip, I was emptying out the house to sell it. It was a pretty hectic, squirrely time, but I had two weeks after the house was empty until I boarded my flight. I used that time to sew. I now have a satisfactory wardrobe of dressy attire that, if I am lucky, I will wear two, maybe even three times per garment during the entire rest of my life.
Why bother? There is a cafeteria on deck 9 where you don’t have to dress like royalty, and the food is just as varied and good. I had to think a while about the answer.
Life enrichment gurus beg you to step out of your comfort zone and try new things. The reason Bill and I settled in Port Townsend was because we greatly enjoyed the casual atmosphere and love of learning that PT offers. PT is funky. Frankly, I have never been able to do elegant well, try as I might. But funky? I’m all over it. Too, Bill was enamored of boats and ships and wooden things, and PT has strong maritime and woodworking elements, not to mention our huge, world-renowned Wooden Boat Festival. We lived an active, happy though inelegant life.
You see where this is going. I am so far out of my comfort zone that I can’t get a bus back. But it is new and different, and in this setting, elegance is normal. Every employee is in smart, clean, good-fitting uniform attire. Maintenance men oiled the teak rail and spot painted the iron on my balcony today. They wore dress uniform shirts. With buttons. To paint in. Most of the guests are British, and they fit into the scene seamlessly. Lest you think “snooty,” I assure you, it is not. There is a cosmopolitan air to this vessel that I‘ve experienced nowhere else on any other cruise.
And I am part of it. For the next five weeks, I will dress appropriately after six and contribute to the smooth, elegant atmosphere, that special feel to my journey.
Part of it. Contributing to it. Equal to the whole. That is a far bigger thing than I would have guessed when I signed the last purchase check and sat down at the sewing machine.
Will I continue to pursue this elegance after the cruise? No. But on that rare occasion when I’m part of a formal event, I will fit in comfortably, with self-assurance.
Where are you going to go to leave your comfort zone?