Frivolous Dressorder The Commute -

I stared at the memo. My clogs were, technically, floral. They were also orthopedic, suede, and the only thing that made the 6:47 AM death-march to the Q train bearable.

The next morning, a new memo was taped to every locker in the basement-level break room: “Effective immediately, Section 4, Subsection C, Paragraph 12 is rescinded. All commute attire is now subject to real-time compliance monitoring via closed-circuit review.” Frivolous Dressorder The Commute

In other words: the train was free territory. I stared at the memo

The next morning, I wore the pineapple hat again. And I didn’t take it off when I swiped my badge. The next morning, a new memo was taped

That evening, I walked to the station, my heart a clenched fist. I was wearing standard-issue gray slacks, a white button-down, and the expression of a hostage. The platform was packed with other gray people. We swayed in unison as the train arrived.

Then I saw her.

But I had discovered a loophole.