My office is pretty casual, and I would say I’m the only one with anything resembling a fashion sense that resides in our depressing walls. Case and point, my manager bought patent orange sandals a couple of weeks back and has worn them nearly every day. Apparently, she thinks this means she also has to wear an orange top ever day. I’ve never seen so much orange in my life! She has a pedicure a matching shade of Home Depot orange.
Lately I’ve found myself pushing the bar on casual. I definitely wear jeans and t-shirts way too many days of the week. I think that’s what happens when you work in an office where matching toes, shoes, shirt combo equals put together. I miss the unspoken competition of my last younger hipper office. No one came right out and said, “my outfit is better than yours,” but there was definitely something gratifying about being the one who got the most compliments. It sounds shallow, but I know all of you women out there know what I’m talking about! Don’t pretend you don’t!
At the prompting of one of my so-called-friends (just kidding, I love her) I read this dating manual called, what else, “The Man-ual,” in it, this former model/womanizer tells women what to do/not to do to snag a guy. One of the things he says that rang true is, women dress for other women. Apparently, if you want to snag a guy you should dress for them, I think he even says, “dress a little trashy.” That’s beside the point, my point is that without any women to impress I’ve fallen into a rut. Plus, I’m not exactly excited to go to my office, don’t like the people you work with, and I’ve slipped into I don’t care mode. Suddenly, jeans + t-shirt + heels equals dressed up.
This morning, I was determined not to wear my jeans, but beyond that I couldn’t make up my mind. I changed shirts I don’t know how many times, and what I ended up with was an outfit suitable for a normal office, not just mine. Tan Bermudas, teal pleated front, racer back tank with chocolate brown sweater (to battle the over-zealous office AC), and some fun heels. I was set.
I work in one of the many office buildings where windows make up the entire wall, which as you know (come on, I know you know) is great for checking yourself out in the mornings. It’s like having a full length mirror follow you, and it is impossible not to check yourself out. As I walked in, I was admiring my ensemble. Feeling pretty proud of myself, I turned to open the door (also glass), and there staring me in the face was the end to my gloating. My black bra was not only showing though my top, it was glowing like some sort of impossible black neon through my top. In all of my wardrobe changes this morning, I forgot to change it, and now I am that girl.
I’ve gone from being the barely presentable underdressed girl (which by the way everyone in my office is barely presentable, it’s not just me), to the barely presentable see through shirt girl. Maybe I’ll just pretend I’m Carrie Bradshaw, wear my see through top proudly and get on with my day…or maybe I’ll just wear pull my sweater a little closer.