For the past week I've been both depressed AND tired -- a combination which allowed me to think that wearing real clothing to work was simply way too much effort.
The kids are always aware when I show up in a huge, baggy man's shirt, that I'm cranky and difficult to approach. Wednesday I wore the favorite of Hubby's shirts -- a nice, large red-checked one. Under it was a red tee and a pseudo pair of jeans that wouldn't get me written up for violating the "no jeans" until Friday policy unless someone was really looking closely.
Today I wore a long caftan. My sister-in-law designed the pattern and has made me five of them. One is silk for summer fancy dress and one is pure red velvet for winter balls. The other three are really rather like "lounging" robes because they require no structured undergarments under them. The green snowflake print I wear all Christmas day. One is an African print and the last one, the one I chose for today, is a black and white musical motif. With a white tee under it, and my piano bar pin and some big black earrings, the kids thought I had really dressed up. I swished around all day in my full angle length gown like I was queen of the third floor.
Because I teach in an African American / immigrant heavy environment where the kids really like unusual costumes and strange jewelry, I was considered the height of fashion instead of someone who actually came to school wearing her robe.