TAG! You're IT!

I was only trying to be nice when I moved forward one row at church to whisper to a lady, "I can see the tag on the back of your shirt. Unless that's the new style, it might be on backwards."
"Oh, dear," the white-haired lady said, pulling her sweater from the back of her seat up over her shoulders.
"Don't worry," I assured her. "I put my shirt on inside out yesterday and didn't know it until my sister told me."
"Honestly," the woman said, hunching herself smaller. "I need a keeper."
"No, you don't," I assured her. "I do it all the time. I button my buttons wrong, too."
She was too immersed in her embarrassment to say anything.
I assure you, if you ever see my shirt on inside out, I'd like to know about it. The same goes for food in my teeth, dog poo on my shoe, and any length of toilet paper trailing out the back of my clothes. I mean, if you're my friend, you're not going to let me wander in public like that, are you?
This incident reminds me of the time I went to speak as a professional author. I sat waiting for my turn, smiling and happy to be there, when a lady leaned over and said, "Your dress is unzipped." It was a side zipper, so I quickly slid it upward just before they called my name.
"I'm so excited to be asked to speak," I said into the microphone. "I was equally excited that my dress felt kind of loose, which meant I'd lost a few extra pesky pounds. Then I discovered my dress was unzipped. When I zipped it up, there went all my weight loss. But I'm still happy to be here."
I suppose we could solve the inside out clothes problem by stuffing our closets with that nifty reversible clothing! Then the only thing I'd have to worry about is putting my shirt on upside down!
Would you be embarrassed if someone told you your shirt was inside out or backwards?

Floods or Clamdiggers?

Now that the weather is gradually growing warmer, my pant hemlines are rising. Yesterday, I pulled on a pair of nice, comfortable stretchy pants and walked out in public. But something felt wrong. With the hemline hitting me just above the ankles, I was an awkward, too-tall teenager again. Halfway through the day, I bent over and rolled the hem up twice. When I stood up, I felt comfortable, fashionable, and, yes, even suave.
I began to wonder what the difference is with pant lengths. I mean, if I feel like a clumsy adolescent in pants just above my ankles (reminiscent of junior high school taunts, "Hey, Noah, when's the flood?") Then why do I feel like I could step into the school lunch room and turn every head with two rolls of the hem? What makes the difference? Is it social conditioning, or are women born with pant-length sensors inside their calves that signal when the him is just right?
And how many names do we need for shorts from the knee to the ankle? Exactly what is a clam digger, in cote hauteur terms? What about capris? Knee shorts? Bermudas?
Excuse me, I need to go put on a skirt.