Modesty Isn’t About You

What a Substack fight over yoga pants reveals about the “I do me, you do you” gospel

©2025 Michael LaMorte

A year ago today, my wife and daughters and I boarded a plane and set off on a whirlwind pilgrimage to Italy. We literally hit the ground running, arriving at the ruins of Pompeii less than six hours after landing, getting through customs, getting our rental car, and checking into the hotel. (I should mention that mid-July in Pompeii is rather hot, as in “you feel like you’re standing in an oven” hot, and I don’t recommend it as the best way to start a trip.) All told, we walked over 110 miles in 13 days, and we covered the entire length of the country, from south of Naples all the way up to Lake Como. Like true pilgrims, we were tired but happy at the end.

Now one of the bits of foreign travel advice we stuck to was “don’t look like a tourist.” This does two things: First, blending into the locals lowers the risk of being targeted by pickpockets. Second, it buys you a little bit of courtesy from the waiters, waitresses, and other service staff who have to put up with “ugly Americans” who come to their country and treat it like a giant tourist attraction. It is their home, and I don’t blame them for being annoyed by foreigners who don’t treat it as such.

Part of “don’t look like a tourist” involved buying a bunch of clothes so we could blend in with the locals, stay comfortable in the heat, and protect our valuables from pickpockets. One of the things we discovered was that the American “athleisure” style of clothing, with yoga pants and baggy sweats playing a dominant role, had not caught on in Italy the same way it has swept into the zeitgeist this side of the Atlantic. It wasn’t a huge deal since none of my ladies are yoga pants wearers to begin with, but who doesn’t like an excuse for a wardrobe upgrade? Armed with the knowledge of how Italians strive for a polished appearance even to walk the dog, we went shopping for clothes for the trip that we all still wear today (to varying degrees).

So why am I telling you all this? Is it simply a recounting of our trip to talk about “when in Rome do as the Romans”? Or “when in Naples drive like Neapolitans”? (Let me tell you, that was an adventure in and of itself.) Is it a piece that talks about how we need to dress like Italians? No, none of those things. (Although I must say, comparing the way Italians dress on the average compared to your stereotypical American tourist, there is most definitely a stark difference.)

What I want to talk about is the concept of “love thy neighbor” in our society, in particular here in the United States.

Now I don’t pretend to know if this phenomenon is localized to here in the States, or if it’s something that also affects other cultures, but we seem to have adopted the attitude of “I do me, you do you.” In particular, when it comes to clothing and the issue of modesty, this is simply the tip of a very large iceberg. When people argue about what should or should not be worn in public around other people, it is the very embodiment of the “I do me, you do you” gospel. What is seen of this iceberg is a tiny glimpse of what is lying beneath the surface. Ultimately, the entire iceberg is the total lack of charity and love for neighbor.

Last summer, I posted an article on this very topic entitled, “Are you loving your neighbor? Or are you their near occasion of sin?” I’ve linked to it several times since then, and sometimes I will use it in comments and replies to other people’s articles on the topic. This was exactly the case earlier this week, when I ran across a note here on Substack posted by a lady who was teasing an upcoming article on clothing and modesty.

For the sake of my readers’ eyeballs, I’ll spare you what she said in the note because it was rather crude and it’s not something I would even share with my teenage daughters. Instead, I’ll simply summarize it by saying that her position was one of “women can wear whatever they want, and if you are scandalized by that, that’s your problem. A woman bears no fault for choosing attire that you might find discomforting to your sensibilities.” I will, however, quote her closing statement: “Modesty is a conversation worth having, but it has to start here: you are not her judge.”

Forgoing the oft-trod road of “no we’re not to judge hearts, but Jesus does say we can and should judge the actions of our neighbors in the interest of their salvation,” I replied to her note by simply linking to my previously written article. (If you haven’t read it yet, I suggest that you do.) The point my article makes is that modesty in what we wear is one of many acts of love toward our neighbor, and in part because we don’t want to give unintentional scandal, which can be a sin.

What ensued was an exchange that is indicative of the current state of our society.

On one side: a Catholic woman who is preaching (screeching?) the “I do me, you do you” gospel.

On the other side: a Catholic man who turns to the catechism, the teaching of the Church, and a reliance on logic and classical principles of debate.

Now, if you know me or if you’ve been following my work for any length of time, you know that my interest is in the pursuit of truth, and in helping people become saints. That is all. I love what God loves, I hate what God hates, and what breaks my heart is what breaks God’s heart. I spend a lot of time learning about the truths of the God side of the equation, and an equal amount of time asking Jesus, meek and humble of heart, to make my heart like his. It’s really that simple. I have no other agenda than that.

What breaks my heart in this case is that there is indeed an important conversation that needs to be had, one that she said at the outset that she wanted; unfortunately, she proved during the course of the exchange that she didn’t really want a conversation, at least not with me. And why? Because, to quote her: “Why are you, a man, spending this much time and effort detailing the rights and wrongs of women’s attire as it relates to moral responsibility? … I think it is uncharitable for a man to write voyeuristically about women’s clothing.”

In the broader sense, this post isn’t only to talk about this one conversation that was had in the reply section of a Substack note. What I want to draw attention to is the conversation that we as a society are having. Or, as the case may be, the conversation we’re not having.

You see, the reality is that we’re not having conversations; we are instead talking past each other. In the place of truth and a desire to find it, we have enshrined moral relativism. We have our agendas and biases and fallacies to support us as we come at each other with slings and arrows and pointed words. We are not loving our neighbor. We are placing ourselves at the center of our personal universe. We are loving ourselves and our worldview, and we are ready to fight anyone who challenges it, even if it means fighting against God and those who are his appointed vicars, ecclesiastical workers in the Church, or even just “neighbors” online who are trying to be neighborly and have a conversation about what attire has to do with loving thy neighbor. Whether it’s yoga pants worn to Mass or character attacks online, it makes no difference. It is the work of the enemy, and it seeks to do nothing but divide us from both neighbor and from God who is truth itself.

The “I do me, you do you” gospel that is being preached is not the gospel of Jesus Christ, and the sooner we stop preaching it, the sooner we’ll start truly loving our neighbor.

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The work I put into one of my replies in the tête-à-tête I think is worth sharing. Therefore I’m pasting it here below for your edification and your spiritual development on the road to being a saint. It has been edited only for the spelling and grammar mistakes that my fat thumbs introduced while typing on my phone.

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It seems that your premise is that since the line of modesty “is drawn a hundred different ways” that the moral issue cannot absolutely and objectively be determined by the attire itself. Instead you promote using the wearer’s intent to determine moral responsibility. If the intent of the wearer is innocent (such as comfort), then their act is innocent; if an innocent observer experiences discomfort or temptation then it is up to the viewer to adjust his response, and it is he not the wearer who bears the moral responsibility.

First let us examine what you are quick to dismiss: the clothing itself. What is the purpose of clothing? It may be used for adornment (such as what a priest wears) or for ornamentation (dressing to express femininity or masculinity) or for a specific activity such as athletics, and in these roles, so long as the clothing is rightly-ordered, we can see that it is good. When clothing is not used for one of these purposes, what then is its purpose? Is it not to conceal, rather than reveal? Do you not wear clothing to conceal yourself from inclement weather? Do you not wear clothing to conceal your most intimate parts from public gaze? If it makes you uncomfortable for someone to look at those parts, through the clothing, does it not beg the question, “Is the clothing doing its job of concealing?” In fact, even when worn for adornment or ornamentation, rightly-ordered clothing must still serve to conceal. But what is the measure of the minimal requisite concealment? Let’s explore.

It is not a requirement of a woman’s attire to be skin-tight or low-cut for it to be feminine; nor is it a requirement of a woman’s attire to be skin-tight or low-cut for it to be comfortable; nor is it a requirement of a woman’s attire to have a skin-tight contour or be low-cut for it to be suitable for athletic activity. Logically, it follows that choosing clothing that is intentionally skin-tight or low-cut is choosing clothing that is intentionally revealing rather than concealing. It is, in effect, choosing clothing that is being used against its purpose of concealing even if that intent is not the primary purpose of the choice, and especially when alternative options are available.

We see that the issue is not a matter of primary intent, but a matter of loving one’s neighbor, which is what my entire post was about. The current societal attitude summed up by “I do me, you do you” is the antithesis of charity towards neighbor; it places the self in the center and ignores the potential weaknesses of one’s neighbor. There is no Christian charity to be found in such an attitude.

Placing the spiritual well-being of one’s neighbor above oneself is a common teaching from St. John Chrysostom in the 4th Century that continues through St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Francis de Sales, St. Alphonsus Liguori, Pope Pius XII, St. Padre Pio, and St. Pope John Paul II. The Catechism sums it up here:

CCC 2522 Modesty protects the mystery of persons and their love. It encourages patience and moderation in loving relationships; it requires that the conditions for the definitive giving and commitment of man and woman to one another be fulfilled. Modesty is decency. It inspires one’s choice of clothing. It keeps silence or reserve where there is evident risk of unhealthy curiosity. It is discreet.

If we look at CCC 1750 we find that “The morality of human acts depends on: - the object chosen; - the end in view or the intention; - the circumstances of the action.” So let’s look at four scenarios:

Scenario 1: A woman is staying at home, having a quiet day to herself. She puts on yoga pants and a tight low-cut top to do yardwork in the middle of summer.

Scenario 2: A woman is going to the mall to go shopping. She puts on yoga pants and a tight low-cut top, drives in her air-conditioned car to the store, walks 100 feet into the air-conditioned mall, and goes shopping.

Scenario 3: A woman is going to a crowded gym to work out. She puts on yoga pants and a tight low-cut top, and heads for the treadmill.

Scenario 4: A woman is going to Sunday Mass. She wears yoga pants and a tight low-cut top.

We can see in the second scenario, the circumstances of the choice are substantially different. Whereas in the first example the clothes may be chosen for comfort in the heat, in the second scenario that element is missing. In the first scenario, the woman is in her own yard and the number of people who will see her is simply passers-by. In the second scenario, the number of people who see her will be vastly greater by several orders of magnitude.

In the third scenario, comfort is a concern, and at the same time she is surrounded by a large number of people. In this case, other options for more modest clothing are available, such as a sports bra under a performance athletic t-shirt with a crew or v-neck, and a thin pair of mid-thigh running shorts over the compression leggings. We see in this clear example that modesty balances the exposure necessary to perform a function in proportion to the audience who will see it.

In the fourth scenario, we can see that there is no need for either skin-tight nor low-cut attire. In fact, the circumstances dictate a degree of reverence above normal clothing, if possible. (I add “if possible” because not everyone can afford “church clothes” and there are cases of people going to or coming from work and they might be dressed in work attire with no opportunity to change.) The circumstances/audience here is God Almighty, so even if she is the only person attending, the requirement for modesty still applies.

The invention of form-fitting fabrics does not negate one’s moral responsibility to love thy neighbor. While custody of the eyes is a requirement of the onlooker, it is out of love of neighbor thought should be given to the object, end, and circumstances when choosing what to wear around others.

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