The Pitfalls of Civilian Clothes Day

We’ve been annoying the Penthouse chain of command for months to let us do a Civilian Clothes Friday Fundraiser. Our directorate's Sergeant Major is less than enthused and always changes the topic of discussion to something else, like the looming APFT that no one really wants to take. In all honesty, there are times when letting Soldiers choose the civilian clothing option is a treasure trove of wardrobe faux pas that can potentially leave you wishing you’d just given them the alternative to pay just to leave work early. At least then you can get paperwork done without wondering what the subliminal statement your soldiers were trying to impart with their attire.  Then again, there really isn’t that big of a threat with the Penthouse crew. The lowest ranking individual on the floor is a SSG, who by all accounts really runs the place. The biggest hazard to attire selection for our crowd is the potential overabundance of Sans-a-belt pants and Nike golf shirts. That, and the fact that Aircraft Shootdown Team will all show up looking like they staggered out of a Scott convention. We wouldn’t know though because they spend their whole time in the office hiding behind a locked door and avoiding people, worshiping their SIPR network and their general awesomeness like a Scottish-appareled Gollum.

Having been a company commander, I admit that I fell prey to the lure of Civilian Clothes Fridays. It was a good way to fill the company’s cup-and-flower fund without having to resort to cooking meth in the motorpool or auctioning PVS-7Bs on eBay. My soldiers were pretty much the upper echelon of the intelligence spectrum in the Army. I’m not kidding. I’m not saying this to be mean or be all superior, but it’s a fact. The highest Army GT and ASVAB scores are held for air traffic controllers. This means that I didn’t have menial concerns. If they got in trouble it was going to be for something epic and monumental. Thus, civilian clothes day was never an issue for me.

I cannot say the same for some of my peers. I’m sorry. Luck can be sh*tty like that.

There are four potential landmines that can appear during civilian clothes day:

1. I didn’t know my solider was a prostitute.

Okay, Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is gone. There is a chance that you may discover one of male gendered soldiers can pull off glittery jeans and a halter top better than Shakira. I’ll admit that you’ll have to deal with that issue when it comes to your desk and/or stands on your red carpet. The concern I’m addressing is your female Minion that just walked out of the training office looking like she’s been doing a little moonlighting at the Cat West Bar on Campbell Blvd. You’re not totally sure how she got “all that a** inside them jeans,” but you fear her sitting down because she might cause the seams to blow out, fully exposing the Fredrick’s of Hollywood thong that has been playing peekaboo in her a**crack, between her Juicy Couture jeans and her lace babydoll t-shirt.

2. I didn’t know my soldier was Lil’ Wayne.

I can’t offer any advice in this case, but try to resist the urge to pull their pants up for them.

3. I didn’t know my soldier was Pig Pen.

They rolled out of bed and made sure to jump on the wrinkle grenade before heading to the office. They sort of match, if “match” is defined as being dressed by a colorblind leper. You stand there wondering how your soldier makes it from Friday date night to Monday morning PT in an adequately clothed state. Does someone, like the barracks NCO, dress them before they leave for the evening? Did they manage to sneak out before a buddy could fix them today? Is that an actual bird nesting in their hair? You’re pretty sure that this soldier is totally squared away and clean shaven in uniform any other day of the week, but he looks like one of those Occupy Wall Street kids now... and not one of those hipster-smartly-attired-with-requisit-scarf-and-skinny-jeans-while-hoisting-a-Starbucks-and-an-iPhone4 hipsters either. He looks like the naked guy you saw on the news last night who was being prison showered off with a fire hose by the police after he beshat himself in their cruiser.

4. I didn’t know my soldier was part of the Gucci/Prada/Versace/Dior empire. 

Yes, you're awesome, and I look like
a hot mess. Please take your
 Diorness out to the motorpool now.

Sadly enough, I do know how this feels. I had a soldier who was always smartly dressed no matter what the function was. Hail and Farewell for the Battalion? Shows up looking like a full-page ad in last month’s Vogue or Vanity Fair or GQ.  Civilian Clothes Friday? Arrives looking like they came directly from NYC Fashion Week. I love clothes and shoes. Really love them. I couldn’t even complete with this soldier. Even my battalion CSM commented to me one day that my soldier was always sharply dressed and looked professional, at any time of day. I hung my head because I was wearing old jeans and a t-shirt that announced to everyone “Wisconsin Cheddar Rocks my Socks.” Can you blame me? I was at the commissary on a Saturday afternoon. The soldier in question: my 1SG.

Inevitably, as a commander, your highly professional NCOs, warrant officers, and junior branch officers will probably address these issues long before first formation, saving you the humiliation of actually having to tackle this matter yourself. Except for that last one. Because let me tell you… there is nothing quite like the judgmental look of smartly dressed 1SG Judgey McJudgerson when you’re sportin’ a worn-out, paper-thin t-shirt that proudly declares your love for the Daleville Diner’s huge breakfast burrito. Aces.