About once a month the school where I work has a casual clothes day. There are rules about what the students can and can't wear. The rules are stricter for the girls than the boys but that's the way things are. It may not be politically correct, but it is common sense.
Notwithstanding these rules, and the rather strict way the Headmistress interprets them, some of the girls always try it on. Therefore I wasn't too surprised to see Tiara flouncing along one of the corridors in an outfit that I was pretty sure broke all the rules. What I was surprised at was that it was lunch-time and Mrs Fogarty hadn't blasted Tiara out of her pretty little socks and sent her home to change. I wandered down to see Mrs Fogarty, not having any real inclination to stop a teenager and discuss her choice of clothing with her.
"Have you seen Tiara?" I asked Mrs Fogarty.
"I have," she said, giving me a killing look. It had no effect. Killing looks bounce right off me.
"And?" I prompted.
Mrs Fogarty tried to stare me down but I sat patiently waiting. Eventually she sighed.
"I called her in and gently reminded her of the casual clothing guidelines. She politely pointed out that she was eighteen and quite capable of deciding if her clothes fell within the guidelines or not. The clothes she was currently wearing suited her, she said, and every item was within the guidelines. What was my objection?
I whipped out the guidelines and started checking off the items she had on. Each item is within the guidelines. She even flashed her panties and bra at me and they're within the guidelines. Maybe just by the thickness of the material, but within the guidelines."
Mrs Fogarty gave me what could only be described as an evil smile.
"Of course, if you have a specific objection to any item that she's wearing I would be quite happy to hear it."
I spread my hands rather helplessly.
"If you say that she's within the guidelines then I suppose it's case closed. It's just, just. . ." My voice trailed away as I gestured rather helplessly.
"It's just that the totality of her outfit is, in this case, less than the sum of the parts?" suggested Mrs Fogarty.
"Couldn't put it better myself," I agreed. "Don't the guidelines say anything about the girls looking like cheap hookers trolling for customers?"
"Unfortunately not. Skirts must be yay long, tops can't show this or that, breasts can't be displayed in any manner, things like that are covered. No-one considered that you could wear the stuff we authorise and still look like Tiara.
What's worse, she's a classroom lawyer. If I sent her home to change just because I don't like her outfit she'd challenge it, waving the guidelines and threatening to go to the media. You know how they'd jump on something like this if it happens to be a slow news day."
I nodded thoughtfully.
"You have a point," I admitted. "Still, much as I hate it, I will have a gentle word in her shell-like ear, suggesting that a small alteration to her outfit would be a good thing. I am officially telling you this so she can't come screaming sexual harassment."
I didn't rush straight off to find Tiara. I just made a mental note to speak to her when we crossed paths. I casually strolled around the school grounds, my presence curbing any over rumbustious behaviour, keeping an eye out generally. I finally saw Tiara parading around. She was swinging her hips, giving her skirt a little bounce as she walked which, combined with the slight breeze meant that there was the occasional flash of panties (which was against school policy, but hard to enforce).
As Tiara waltzed along she would catch the eye of a boy here and there, giving them what could only be described as 'I know you want me' looks, gloating at the way eyes tracked her.
After a while I worked out where she was heading and placed myself in a position where we would cross paths.
"Morning, Tiara," I said, acknowledging the girls with her with a general nod in their direction.
"Afternoon, sir," she said smirking.
I let that pass. I could see she was waiting for me to make some sort of comment on her clothes. Far be it from me to disappoint her.
"Tell me, Tiara, if you saw a man dressed in a police uniform, would you assume that he's a policeman?"
"Either that or he's going to a costume party," she returned.
"A reasonable point," I agreed. "I assume that you would think the same of someone dressed as a fireman?"
She nodded agreement without speaking.
"And if someone is dressed like a cheap prostitute?"
There was a bit of muttering amongst her companions, shocked at me inference.
"How can you tell from clothes if a woman is a prostitute?" asked Tiara. "Surely that's in her behaviour rather than her dress?"
"You could say the same about a policeman," I pointed out. "Ah, you're not going to a party right now, are you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Just curious." I also ran my eyes over her as I answered, and she flushed.
"As a matter of curiosity, how are you managing to beat the boys off? I've noticed them watching you."
"I can handle the boys around here," she said scornfully. "They're all talk, anyway."
"Unless you run into the football team," I mused. "Then you might have a problem."
Tiara flushed and looked as though she'd had enough of our conversation and wanted to be on her way. I waved her past, having one last little shot as she went.
"I wouldn't worry too much. The juries don't go for the 'she was asking for it' argument anymore."
I promptly forgot about Tiara. She was Mrs Fogarty's problem, not mine. I went about my normal duties, schools like to keep you busy. I remembered her and her odd attire when I spotted her just after the end of school bell. She was strolling in the direction of the sports fields. I found myself moving faster than I normally do as I hurried to cut her off.
"Tiara," I said, stepping onto the path in front of her. She had to stop. Students don't rudely push past teachers, even if the final bell had gone.
"What?" she asked, somewhat ungraciously.
