Lose weight? Goes without saying. Stress less? A perennial wish.

This year I decided to add at least one more resolution: Wear less black.

Dear Brassiere,

I usually don’t shy from noting birthdays, but word of your big 100th gave me pause.

I’m sure some celebrate your milestone – and I suppose I too should appreciate all the support you’ve given me these 40-something years.

Truth is, you are not a girl’s best friend.

Years ago, when airplane flights were still more of a novelty, we "dressed" to travel.

Maybe we fancied ourselves jet-setters of sorts and took our cues from those stylish stewardesses who always looked so poised and perfect.

We all know now it’s a little risky to wear flip-flops to your photo op with the president at the White House. At least that’s the lesson learned after the Northwestern University lacrosse players’ visit with George Bush made headlines a couple years ago.

“Don’t even ask me about the flip-flops,” groaned one player’s mother to the media. “It mortified me.”

It was hard not to notice the stylish young women, menus in hand, greeting hungry tourists in Quebec City’s Old Town.

They were stylish but casual, not unlike someone you might see in Maine. But something was different – they looked more poised and confident, unafraid to add that elegant touch of a scarf wound around the neck.

It was a scene I saw again and again – not a Croc in sight, no sweatpants, no fanny packs. Except on Americans.