I listened to a taped business call earlier this week, on a friend's recommendation. I did so reluctantly, and I spent several hours psyching myself up for it. I was afraid of hearing the same old, same old, and of finger-shaking admonitions to do things that I don't particularly care to do, in order to build my business. So I listened. And of all the tidbits proffered by this business leader, what really stuck in my mind, like a grain of sand under my eyelid, was the phrase, "Always dress professionally."
In my travels, I have heard a great deal of banality, misinformation, and foolishness come from the mouths of some very well-dressed people. I recall telling someone, back in my relatively-powerless-position-so-I-needed-to-make-myself-feel-powerful days, that if I couldn't be intimidating in a sweatshirt and jeans, I wasn't fit for the job. I also swiftly and instantly boycotted red clothing for eight years or so, after a coworker said, "Oooo, a power suit" to my favorite red suit. I hated the idea that people might think I was using clothing to disguise some personality flaw or weakness. Or that I might be a well-dressed-but-not-terribly-informed individual. Better to dress down a little and surprise people with wit and acumen, than to appear as if straight from a photo shoot and surprise people with nonsense. Or so went my reasoning.
I wasn't even completely certain what the person on the call meant by dressing professionally. Operating-room doctors and nurses dress in scrubs for their profession. The world's oldest profession has a dress code, of sorts, and its practitioners might be said to be dressed professionally. Prior to chaperoning a school bowling outing, I wondered how I should dress, in order to be a "professional-looking" ambassador for my business. A suit seemed a little over the top; plus, there was a foot of snow. The track suit in which I started the day was obviously the wrong uniform for an ambassador. Jeans and a sweater? Jeans and a sweater. And I fit right in.
Maybe dressing professionally means fitting in, minus one. "Look cute, but poor" I instructed my children, when I had to take them with me on school-auction-committee errands. On this same business call, another woman, attempting to explain the importance of good customer service, started her portion of the call with, "I love to shop at Tiffany's." I immediately stopped listening, as she clearly wasn't talking either to or about me. At this juncture, I don't accessorize my wardrobe at that establishment. Maybe those who do would think I can't dress professionally.
Dressing to engage, or dressing to distance? The late Princess of Wales was a black belt in not allowing her wardrobe to distance her from the people she wanted to engage. Expensive always, but rarely a distraction from her personality. Quite a contrast from "Look at me! I can afford more expensive clothing than you!" That is dressing to distance, to separate oneself from the common herd, possibly to promote aspiration. Perhaps the exact same ensemble, on two different people, could either engage or distance.
It seems to me that the definition of dressing professionally must take the intent into account--whether to fit in, to promote distance and aspiration or to wear the "uniform" of one's position. If so, fit-in-plus-one makes sense for me. Being just far enough ahead of someone to still reach back and hold his or her hand feels like engagement with a dash of aspiration, and THAT feels like a truly professional approach to dressing. I'm still going to be seen out and about in my skating clothes--if I can't be professional in jazz pants and a fleece top, I'm not fit for my job!
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