[Editor's Note: As submitted by http://minneapoliscareergirl.blogspot.com/]
It was the summer of 2005. I was living and working (as an intern) in Washington DC. It was a summer full of great times and good stories, but one sticks out in my mind today.
It was a Thursday in mid-July when a male friend called me at work and asked if I'd like to make a "quick stop" with him at the Pentagon City shopping complex on our way home that night. Of course, I obliged, finding out later the reason for our stop was to head to Brooks Brothers where he could buy a seersucker suit. It seems Brooks Brothers decided that blue, yellow and pink seersucker suits weren't selling well that summer, so they were put on clearance. Ads in the paper, etc. led us to Brooks Brothers that day where my friend glowed at the purchase of a blue seersucker suit for less than $200.
The next day, this same friend delighted in wearing his seersucker suit. After all, it was Friday, he could get away with it on the hill. I watched him strut to the bus stop, stand with confidence on the bus, feeling stylish and polished in his new digs. That day, I had an early meeting on the hill (I didn't work on the hill, but for a lobbyist on Penn Ave.), so I rode with my friend all the way to the hill.
Getting off the train and walking to the Rayburn building, I don't believe I've ever laughed so hard. What we saw were at least 30 seersucker suits, in a range of colors, all walking to their offices heads down with embarrassment. Apparently every intern and junior staff member on the hill got the memo about the Brooks Brothers sale and they all proudly displayed their seersucker the next day.
That night, I recall my friend saying he would "never wear seersucker again" and telling us tales of being mercilessly made fun of by senior staffers all day. Those who strive to fit in somehow always manage to stand out, don't they?