I'm bringing Classy back

Katy Perry's song, California girls is a salute to the attire of gals on the west coast  but somehow it lost something by the time it reached the Midwest. But since I overheard my sassy gay friend singing a slightly modified version of the lyrics all I can now hear is
(Midwest girls they are forgettable, pajama bottoms and hoodies on top.)
We seem to have an epidemic in this country, or at least in my region, of complete lack of attention to ones personal appearance in public.  I have to admit, this has been on my mind for sometime, but my in laws were in town this past weekend and not much reminds me of my own personal deficiencies than the parents of the man I married.
They drove to our home for our son's baptism this weekend. They drove 14 hours. This morning as I was getting ready for work and they were getting ready to drive home, I noticed something.  My father in law was wearing a pressed button down oxford neatly tucked into his khaki's and sporting a brown belt.  His shoes were shined.  My mother in law came down with pearls and a "smart" sweater set. It begged the question...
" where are you going" ?
"home", they said trying not to appear very disappointed in the obvious-ness of that question.
" I mean, your not stopping anywhere first"?
" no".
Even I am a little stumped by their attire. I understand flying and wanting to look good for whomever you pass in the airport, but when you go on a road trip the only people you will come into any sort of contact with are in truck stops, and last time I checked, Tim Gunn doesn't frequent such places.
My road trip wardrobe consists of yoga pants and a tank, possibly a cardigan, but pearls?
I mentioned that they looked nice and somehow that began a conversation at 8:15 a.m. about the state of the countries slapdash dressing. Mind you, I was suppose to be out the door 10 minutes ago, but I will listen, like a good daughter in law does.
As I watch the clock tick away and half- listen something catches my ears fancy.  My mother in law tells me that when they were kids people even dressed up for football games.  They wouldn't be caught dead in dungarees ( which in case you were wondering, are jeans).
I glance down at my work outfit with a bit of shame, its mainly made out of rayon and spandex and its color pallet is black with accent hint of black.
After I left, 20 min. later, I started to think and dare I say, AGREE, with what she was preaching about.  How in the world did it become acceptable to wear NFL fleece pajama bottoms with knock off uggs and a t-shirt to get groceries?  When did it become the norm to where jeans to church..yes I know " God doesn't care what you are wearing" but good Lord, I DO!
This got me thinking even more about the recent decline in style. I remember that my sister worked at Taco Bell when she was in high school and also remember that my mom would press her vintage brown and orange uniform before she left.  She also wore a cute little taco bell bandanna thing on her head. Today, taco bell workers were generic polo shirts with stains on them...no hat. At least I think they do, but honestly the only time I visit Taco Bell these days are after a night of heavy "socializing" and my mind is on one thing only and that is a chalupa.
But what about the medical field?  I specifically remember the nurse at my family practitioner office wearing a white dress, white shoes with white hoes, at least I had the satisfaction of knowing that they were clean. Now I  have no clue what is stained behind those daffy duck or neon floral scrubs.  And screw the white shoes, lets just wear orange crocs.

And without sounding like a cranky old prude, what is with the length of shorts and skirts on girls these days!?  Is that a Huggies jean diaper you are wearing or shorts?

It just feels better to be put together. I swear that if I have a classy outfit on, ( ok I sound little too much like my mom) who btw taught "visual poise" to every 8th grade girl who graduated from my private school from the years of 1981- 2000, even if nobody sees me, I at least know that if I were to run into someone I cared about I would walk away happy that my hair wasn't in a chignon knot on top of my head.