I am not known for any distinctive style when it comes to fashion. A serviceable pair of jeans, a black t -shirt (or long sleeved top now that it is cold) and takkies are my usual wardrobe staples. It helps that my co worker is unfussed about what I look like for the office as long as I do the job, and has a similar fashion sense. He too dresses for comfort and practicalities.
 |
| Jacketed and lipsticked |
When we go on dates, obviously we both put in a bit of effort, adding a smart jacket or swapping takkies for Doc Martens, and brushing our hair. I add lipstick. He dabs on some nice smellies.
It is a good thing we are also married to each other. And no, we don't always talk about the state of our company when we go out. Sometimes we discuss the children too.
(An aside - I am getting famous for these asides... Our daughter holds the title for Most Stylish Family Member. She has a knack for putting together unusual outfits that somehow just work. I remember when she was very small - just old enough to enjoy the creativity and independence of choice. What she wore was important to her, and she would put a lot of thought into mixing pink florals with orange socks or whatever colours she fancied. Nothing clashed in her book, and of course, she is right. After her swimming lesson on a Friday afternoon, my four year old would disappear into the change room and come out 15 minutes later looking ready for a runway show. The lovely teacher admired her style, looked at me, and announced she clearly didn't get her flamboyant style from her mother. Too right. End of lonnng aside.)
I have come to realize that how we dress - how we present ourselves - is important. Sometimes it is as important as the words we speak, or even the words we don't speak. I need to acknowledge here that not everyone has a choice of how they dress - it is an economic privilege for one thing, and a condition of employment for others (like police, nurses, air stewards...) A very long time ago, when child number 1 was a new infant, we needed some conformal coating spray for some circuit boards. (No maternity leave if you work with your spouse...) Undaunted by new motherhood, although somewhat sleep deprived and suffering from hormonal hair (thinning and a bit limp...) I gamely ventured to the supplier, baby in arms. The office was on a main road, and I pressed the buzzer at the security gate to be let in. The coiffed woman behind the counter looked up and said dismissively, "We don't give at the door."
Ah, ok. She thought I was begging for money. I realized that maybe my hastily slung on tracksuit bottoms and red jersey were not the best choice for this outing. But I also realized she was judging me before I had had a chance to open my mouth. She had the good grace to blush when I, despite feeling humiliated, persevered and bought the spray from her. These days I think it is hilarious, back then, not so much.
It is a moment that stayed with me for two reasons: Firstly, I would consider the destination and appropriateness of my attire before venturing out in future, and Secondly, I hoped I would never judge someone by what they are wearing, regardless of a situation. Clothes are important, but they are not nearly as important as the people wearing them. Besides, there are some very well dressed world "leaders" doing horrendous harm in their designer clothes, so appearances are not a good measure of decency.
I know that when I start feeling judgy about people I usually need more sleep. Or I am hangry. The point being, it is about my view of the world and has very little to do with the person I am directing these feelings towards. I am usually judging or angry with myself, but it is more comfortable to project it on to someone else. I am hoping to sort through my wardrobe (of feelings) and discard those which no longer fit or look good on me. And while I am there, I will also toss out any old red jerseys and baggy tracksuit bottoms.
