B was a bit concerned before we left for NYC about the way we looked. She worried that everyone would be able to identify us as rubes by the way were dressed, and suggested that we should go shopping for clothes that would let us blend in. She even suggested at one point that we buy black shirts and pants, or white shirts with black pants, or something equally generic so we wouldn’t stick out.

I volunteered the opinion that, no matter what we wore, practically anyone in NYC would be able to tell at a glance that we were from Cow Town, Wisconsin.

And I still think they probably can but, now that we’ve been here a couple days, I’m almost positive we could have worn just about any t-shirt and well-worn pair of pants we already owned and it wouldn’t have been our dress that made us obvious. In fact, we could both walk down the street wearing bear suits, or nothing but our underpants (a great many New Yorkers appear to be comfortable wearing little more than their underclothes in public), and we wouldn’t look out of place here.

It’s when we gape at the people dressed in bear suits and point, saying “Garsh! Lookit them fellers!” that makes it obvious we’re not from anywhere in NYC.