A fine and foxy lady discovered me on flickr, totally randomly, from the picture, above. We had identical experiences at different weddings on the same day in the San Francisco Bay Area: at our respective receptions, the respective brides marched up to us and handed us their bouquets. [However, she didn’t lose her bouquet between the reception and her car. Ahem] Oh, and we both live in Ventura!

Anyway, this lady’s name is Violet and she has an excellent blog. I am agog that such a witty and exotic creature lives in the same county as me.

Recently she explored the horrible phenomenon of the bobo, or faux-hemian. An incidental observation she made in her post caught my eye:

I don’t see the point in wearing technical clothes on the street, like the many women in this area who dress as if they are perpetually on their way to yoga class…

Although I — and the company I choose to keep here in Ventura — is far from bobo, I guiltily admit that I wear sweats, in public, a lot. I brought this up with my friend Christine. Here’s what transpired, as related to Violet in the comments section of her blog:

So, Violet, I was shopping with a friend in downtown VTA this afternoon, and I mentioned your blog — specifically, the passage from your post regarding wearing technical clothes on the street.

Christine looked at my outfit, then at her outfit, and said, simply, “ouch”.

We have both lived in more stylish cities, we both know better. We have gotten soft and have been hurtling towards Unfashionable Hell (on a road paved with drawstrings and fleece).

So, right then and there, we made a pact.

No workout or yoga wear in public, unless it is immediately before or after exercising. Change of clothes will always be kept in our respective cars.

Now that our pact is posted here in perpetuity, we promise, Christine and Becky, to honor Fashion from here on out.

Love from your wedding bouquet pal, Becky

And so far, we’ve taken this vow dead seriously. Just tonight, I was rushing from yoga class to singing class. In the parking lot across from the Livery Theatre, in the driver’s seat of my car, I stripped out of yoga pants and a teeshirt and into jeans and sweater.

See? I’ve gotten much classier now!