When I first came to Texas, overwhelmed and feeling out of touch with the world, my daughter said something that I'm sure she didn't mean as a wardrobe plan, but that's how I'm taking it.
She said, "The next person who waves to you might be your next boss." Or did she say the next person who says hello to you. Anyway.
That one sentence gave me an overwhelming urge to pay attention to how women who work here seem to dress. I look at my closet with jaundiced eye now that I'm determined to look like the woman who has earned money recently, instead of the woman who came here on a wheelchair flight. This requires much sleight-of-hand since the few office clothes I brought from L.A. were definitely not prepared for the humidity here. Nor the temperature highs and lows. But I'm determined.
So some anti-success clothes are out of the closet and into the donate bag, probably to stay there. And some will never be worn farther than the mailbox. And my beloved jacket with the bling on the collar -- hope I don't have to make it into a quilt. Also I have to take my own advice about the alterations guy. My blazer and a lot of other things need a nip and tuck and sometimes a slash.
But my cardinal rule for looking job-worthy is one that guys have known since before the Great Depression. Since before Louis the XIV probably.
And women far, far too often forget: No suit will make up for shoes that need repair, and please! polishing! When I look like I can't afford shoes, I look like I haven't had a job for decades. So I'm hunting, and I'm writing to shoe companies, and complaining. And I have two tins of black shoe polish, for insurance.
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