Labor Day works in much the same way. Created as a means of showing support for the labor movement, unions, and workers, it now serves as a mere marker of the end of summer: a time for barbequing, drinking, and putting the cover back on the ol' speedboat, ready to usher in a season of paper-pushing, football, and dread. Of course with Wal Mart et al. raking in the dough, unions don't really mean much anymore. And a lot of the blue collar workers that this holiday is supposed to celebrate have to work through it.
I've gone through different attitudes toward Labor Day in my life. As a child, of course, Labor Day is an ominous holiday, a black cloud that hovers just beyond August. There it rests, disguised though it may be by the promise of back to school sales and pipe dreams of newfound popularity. We always started school before Labor Day, which made it even worse. Once I got to college, Labor Day became an exciting time: the long-overdue expiration date on my summers of stifling boredom. And now? It means little to me, apart from some vague sense of betrayal on behalf of the struggling labor movement.
So what did I do this Labor Day? Well, I went to two barbeques, of course. I drank beer. I mourned summer's end. And I watched some damn fine reruns.
And because this is sort of a fashion blog, here's what I wore to said barbeques:
Shorts: Urban Outfitters (last year), t-shirt: Forever 21 ($5), headband: Forever 21 ($1.50 for 2!), shoes: Steve Madden, belt: thrifted.