Wednesday, July 05, 2006

More On Toenails

In the most imperious Endora manner I can muster, I stand firmly against bright toenails under vestments at High Church events. I believe they are an inappropriate distraction, and that they look downright tacky in that setting, unless you're the preacher and are willing to make that statement and to risk the judgment of parishioners who find your statement excessive and disrespectful (as women of my grandmother's ilk would, and they're often the most loyal supporters and attenders of our churches).

Shimmery neutral purples (NOT Goth dark shades) and nudes are much prettier and don't cause everyone watching the procession to the altar to immediately zero in on your Bandolinos, to wonder how much they cost, to wonder how many inches high they are and whether or not you'll trip, to muse about whether or not you've shaved your legs, and what bistro you'll be dining at after the service.

ENDORA

6 Comments:

Blogger boyinthebands said...

My preaching class was warned in no uncertain terms about the male version of the bright toenails: obnoxious socks. (I suppose women could wear obnoxious socks, and men wear bright nail polish with open toed shoes, but I think y'all know my meaning. The point is that neither should.)

The example in the prof's ancedote must be twenty years old now, but it is all that more poignant that the offender was one of the first openly gay ministers in his denomination. Tsk, tsk.

6:27 PM  
Blogger Rev. Sean said...

I suppose I have ended up being Durwood--er---Darren. Very sincere, often too serious, and well, a bit on the absent-minded, clumsy, but (I hope) ultimately lovable side.

One of the things I am trying to change in myself is that I smile too much. It's a bit of leftover girly-girl training, and the worst part is that I often tilt my head too. Not exactly manly or really all that ministerial either. More like a curious wren or a coquettish cat.

It's amazing how hard it is to change an old habit.

7:09 PM  
Blogger Chalicechick said...

I find that sort of funny because I feel I'm a natural-born Aunt Clara (broken shoe strap and all) and have long been rallying against truly becoming one.

CC

7:43 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

This past winter, I caught myself harboring a very strange ministerial tic: the guffaw. Any time someone would say something odd, they could hardly finish a sentence before I'd bust out with my standard-issue guffaw, sometimes shaking my head back and forth like an Andy Griffith kewpie doll or a very lost horse. In the past, my soft chuckle has been a comfort to some. But now? Not at all. It wasn't long before I realized that I was, in fact, very stressed out and that my ministerial guffaw was not comforting a soul, but in fact making the folks just a little bit nervous. I took a week off to eat pancakes and wrestle my son. When I returned, the guffaw had been replaced with the half-lidded blank stare and pursed lips which are native to me.

Jake

10:03 PM  
Blogger St. Casserole said...

No bright toenail polish under vestments?

Dang! Rats!

8:01 AM  
Blogger LaReinaCobre said...

I don't know who any of these characters are! Okay, I remember the witch from Bewitched, and I think Darren was her husband, right? Aunt Clara? No clue. Endora?

9:31 AM  

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