In February 2006, I met with a group of non-traditional students. We met over lunch and shared concerns about returning to college. We spoke of children, jobs, spouses, homes to care for, and finances. It was a profitable hour, and vastly affirming. One of the greatest concerns expressed was communicating with one’s fellow students.

  I was a few months old when Kennedy was shot. Most of the students on the MUM campus that are in my classes were that age when Reagan was shot. But they all tell me age doesn’t matter. Communication is, according to experts, only slightly dependent upon the actual words spoken. Most is based on tone of voice and body language. What these experts fail to address, and what that lunchtime meeting did not mention, is the absolute first line of communication: what to wear. I’m talking about clothing.

  I like clothes. I’ve been wearing them all my life, and in that time, a certain idea of what I like has evolved. Still, returning to college had me worried. Mall stores and department stores seem to have two groups in mind: skinny-girl-I-don’t-mind-showing-every-inch-of-skin style, and over-the-hill dress-like-your-mother clothes. I don’t fit into either category. I was in school in the 70s; I don’t want a re-run. The hand-dyed and embellished imports from India and Indonesia are charming, never mind that the halls and bathrooms are carpeted with sequins, twinkles and sparkles. And does Jane Austen have so many fans as fashion implies? The Empire waist looked like maternity clothes in 1818, and still does, with one exception: the beribboned and be-laced camisoles that might have come from the Empress Josephine’s boudoir. Disruptive, that. Then again, I hear pajamas are the thing, at least when the temperature is above ten degrees. I suppose I could wear the skirts and jackets I wore for my last job, but the one day I tried it, a dozen people asked me what class I taught. Perhaps I should have accessorized with a few tattoos?

  We non-traditional students need a class on attire according to age.

  After the wardrobe comes a much more daunting task: finding just the right bag to tote books and computer. A case with a glittery print of Tinkerbell is great for girls aged five to twenty-five. Thereafter, all Disney motifs should be avoided until one reaches the age of eccentricity. I love messenger bags. I carried one to work for years. But hauling one around all day stuffed with books will turn even the healthiest into Quasimodo. Being a dork is better than being in pain, and much better than paying a chiropractor. Many students end up with luggage, the kind of thing airline pilots carry and once had exclusive rights to use—you know those things with zippers, in-line skate wheels and a telescoping handle. Essentially, these are the grown-up versions of the little red wagon, just not as satisfying. Fortunately, a girl can string some beads and accessorize even that. With enough beads and stickers, even a geek bag works.

  I understand that there was a "Dress for Success" luncheon held at the Manchester Inn sponsored by Student Services. I wish that this had been made available to more students including myself as they not only showed appropriate attire for all ages but also covered the ever changes etiquette rules.

  My final concern about being a non-traditional student is the support group with the moniker name ‘Rusty Nails.’ When I registered, I was given flyers pointing me toward it. A number of other students have mentioned it to me as well. I have enough labels at Miami: "non-traditional" is bad enough. I don’t want my wardrobe to communicate that I’m on the cusp of geezerhood. And I will not belong to anything that labels me rusty.