I grew up with parents who had a pretty stern sense of decency. We had rules for what we could and could not wear.
Going to school? Your skirt better hit your knee.
Going to a formal function? Your going to wear a formal dress.
Going out in public? There better not be holes in your jeans.
Going for a job interview? You better not be wearing jeans.
That’s not to say we were puritan, or religous. My parents just wanted to instill in us a sense of how to show respect to the people around you by adjusting your clothes to the function. (Though, plenty of young gentlemen learned their lesson about wearing baggy jeans a little too low in my house.)
So, I get the idea of what should or should not be worn “in public.” I also relate to those who feel like there are concrete rules that people should be obeying. (I always subconsciouly twitch when I see someone going for a job interview in ratty jeans as an old band tee shirt.)
But, here’s the catch.
My grandmother also taught me that my rights only go beyond my nose. She taught me it’s not my job to judge people, or to enforce my rules of life on them.
So, it’s not my place to care what you wear in public. And, really, the majority of rules that revolve around the use of leggings are rooted in the idea that women always have to look attractive. It’s all about hiding our butts, or our camel toes, or our fat rolls. Let’s be honest. That’s bullshit.
It’s not your place to tell me what I can or cannot wear. If you don’t like how I look, then don’t look at me. It’s simple as that.
It’s okay to have your individual set of boundaries and rules for what should be worn in public. What’s not okay is forcing your rules onto others. Keep your judgement out of my closet.