"Clothes"ing Doors

The selling feature for our house was the closets.  I never thought I would find a 1950's ranch with so much closet space.  Our master has his and her walk-ins.  Who did that in the 1950's?!?  Problem: I had filled up three of the closets. 

I have always known that I say something through my clothes.  They set the mood for my day.  Is this how I ended up with so many?  Maybe.  The point is I had collected so many different moods, and I was bursting out of three closets--ridiculous.  For over 10 years, I had to wear business to business casual clothes to work every day.  I was working in a college setting, but I knew the expectation was for me to look different than the students.  So, I did.  After working in that environment, I moved on to a strict dress code.  By strict I mean no open-toed shoes, no sleeveless anything, and the expectation of just blending in the background.  Now, it's important to know my moods/styles can range from very Stevie Nicks to Donna Reed to occasionally Peg Bundy.  Don't judge.  My Donna Reed worked well in the college setting, and I could rock my Stevie Nicks and Peg Bundy on the weekends.  Nothing really worked well in the strict environment.  My clothes were the least of my problems, but I should have paid better attention to this little piece of info in my interview.  The interview committee looked like little boxes on the hillside made of ticky tacky--all the same.  The same=frowny. 

I left the strict dress code environment to become a writer.  My dress code changed, again.  Now, I was working at home.  The first few months were fun because it was a novelty to wear footie jammies to work.  Work was my home office, and my home office was filled with dog hair and pups nudging me for attention.  Not bad.  After a few months, the jammies weren't working for me anymore.  I realized that my clothes were still setting my mood for the day.  The jammies made me feel like I shouldn't be working.  I know, I know.  Rattling on about clothes seems trivial, but it goes deeper for me.  During this time, I would open up those three closets and just stare at my old life.  There it was.  My old life crammed into three closets.  It didn't feel good.  Again, I was focusing on my goal, which was to become a working writer.  I needed that day-to-day contact with work peeps.  A former colleague and friend happened to call me during this "questioning" stage, and she said the magic words.  "The non-profit I work for really needs a writer.  You interested?"  Umm, yeah! 

As with any job interview, I decided to wear a suit.  It wasn't a traditional suit.  It was something I had put together from Anthropologie.  As I was introduced around the office, I noticed that no one else was dressed like me.  There were people in summer dresses, slacks, shorts, tennis shoes, t-shirts, etc.  Here's the other observation...they looked happy.  On my drive home I realized how badly I wanted to work at this place.  It wasn't because of the relaxed dress code.  I actually enjoy dressing up and wearing heels most of the time; although, the heels have been slowly transitioning to flats.  Everyone was allowed to set his or her mood for the day.  This place treated its employees well.  And, yes, I got all of this from the clothes.

A few weeks ago, the non-profit called me and offered me the job.  I'm a full-time writer.  A full-time writer!!!  The statement is still settling into the crevices of my brain.  I opened the closet doors again and realized how uncomfortable my old life would look in my new life.  Out it went!  I donated most of the professional wear to a local agency that helps women get back into the workforce.  Now, I'm left in an exciting and uncomfortable place.  I have no idea what to wear.  HR called yesterday to remind me that the dress code is VERY casual.  It made me giggle, and it gave me good "feels" about this place.  HR also reminded me that I could dress however I wanted, and they were just calling to remind me about the dress code because they didn't want me to be uncomfortable on my first day.  Uncomfortable.  Am I finally leaving that behind?

Answer: probably not.  Discomfort is part of life.  If I hadn't been uncomfortable for the past year with working through my decision to be a writer, then I wouldn't have landed this sweet gig.  So, what's next?  Well, those crammed closets actually represented what others had dictated I wear.  I had my style, but overall a workplace had set the parameters.  I know that is normal; however, it feels fantastic that this new place doesn't dictate.  Cleaning out the closets has helped me move forward with my new career--I'm Marching Fourth.