Life in Florida can scarcely be lived without encountering the homeowner's association. It is an unnecessary evil that, to date, I have yet to find a way around. My own hillbilly, hoarding, white trash, NASCAR-loving (I see that was rather redundant) neighbors have not only insinuated themselves onto our board, but they also work in the front office, taking complaints from people who might want to complain about their NASCAR-loving neighbors. As such, I have but one option when it comes to maintaining at least some semblance of re-sale value. Hence, I spend the day planting privacy hedges.
However, even our Nazi regime hasn't instigated this rule, which comes from our stuck up neighbors to the far west in Naples, Florida. It seems there is an association over there that does not allow denim to be worn within its gates. That's right, no jeans, no jean shorts, jean jackets, jean skirts, jean blouses and for god's sake, no jean hats. I can not fathom the type of people who prefer this kind of living, but then, I suppose they probably can't fathom me. There is, apparently, one caveat. Jeans can be worn only to walk to one's car, but they must then vacate the premises immediately. No detours to the Dumpster, or returning to one's home lest they've forgotten something. In both cases, a change of attire is mandatory.
You may think I'm making this up, but if you lived down here you would be less surprised. Don't forget, I live in a neighborhood with a three gate entry system that makes it more challenging for residents to enter than guests. (Thank you Howard.) In fact, impatient people smash through the gates so often they are now wrapped in Nerf.
I can, however, come and go as I please in whatever I desire. This pleases me, because it has recently been made socially acceptable for men to wear velour suits. I bought one in every color and will be wearing one when I go condo shopping in Naples.