The language of business casual

I'm not a very good "business casual" kind of gal.

I wear suits and nice skirts and high heels to work most every day. On weekends, it's pretty much jeans or a denim skirt and flip-flops. Not a lot in the closet that in-between. And not much need for it, really.

Next week I'm going to an out-of-town conference where the dress code is clearly designated as "business casual." Which, I guess, is supposed to make it easier for conference-goers. But which, instead, threw me into a mild panic.

I'm always game for a little clothes shopping, though, so I cruised around online for awhile tonight to see if I could find a few pieces to get me through. A bright summer cardigan seemed like a good idea, and I kind of liked this cute set from Talbot's. But what's this ridiculous thing about "choosing a concept"?? When did a size category like "misses" or "petites" become a concept? Sheesh. The pretentiousness of it all made me grumpy. Sorry, Talbot's, no sale for you.

Then came J.Jill to the rescue, with a not only some items that were just what I needed, but a use of language that appealed to me just as much as that of Talbot's had turned me off. Consider the sale section, so cleverly named "Summer for a Song." Or the "splendid" linen pants. J.Jill, may I place my order now?

Silly, sure -- but somehow you just never get over being an English major!