In high school, I struggled every day to maintain my cool and stylish persona while adhering to my school’s very strict dress code. Girls had to wear dresses or skirts covering the knee, and pants were not allowed.

One day the dean of girls was notified by the dean of boys that she should call me to her office so she could take a look at my getup. She wondered, very loudly and dramatically, what on EARTH I was thinking when I came to school in that miniskirt. Then she realized I was making eye contact with her. “You brazen hussy! A lady casts her gaze to the floor when spoken to!”

Cripes, what a throwback, I thought. Even my parents required me to look at them when they were reprimanding me.

My mother was summoned to the school, and after she’d heard Miss M’s story, she said, “My first question is, how is it that the dean of BOYS is evaluating my daughter’s clothing choices? And secondly, I wouldn’t be caught dead in the outfits you expect these girls to wear!”

On the way out, she quietly said to me, “Don’t ever wear that outfit to school again.”