It is time to get rid of some clothes. Again. I’ve been taking bags of perfectly good working clothes to our women’s shelter for four years now, since taking early retirement and leaving the office. I hoped my old clothes would help another woman start a new life. I was starting a new life too, and I would not need the suits and silk blouses that were in those bags.
Our clothes express both how we see ourselves, and how we want others to see us. When I began my professional career in the late 1970s, a slightly built, young woman in a man’s profession, my clothes announced that I was serious and competent. Tailored navy blue suit. Neat silk shirts and blouses. Heeled pumps. Leather briefcase.
I had the look down but I was never entirely comfortable with that conformity. I wanted something that announced I was unique. I wanted to stand out, just a bit, not too much. I learned to wear scarves. Good quality silk or wool scarves casually tossed over my shoulders or loosely tied. I wore them almost every day.
As the years passed, my confidence grew and I learned I didn’t have to force myself into the male mold. There is a place for the feminine in the office. The lines of my suits softened. My skirts flared. I continued to wear scarves.
When I retired my life and my dress were blank canvasses. I had long empty hours not sure what to do. I gave away my work clothes but my Saturday clothes weren’t right either. My jewelry stayed in the box, my scarves in the closet.
My life filled again, caring for aging parents and new grandchildren, volunteering at work that feels important to me, knitting, sewing and growing my own vegetables. I am learning to be creative, learning to be free to fail, learning I am not dependent on success. Blue jeans replaced the navy suit, tee shirts replaced the silk blouses. Instead of neat button earrings, now my earrings dangle.
I am wearing scarves again. But it is time for the old scarves to go. Today I wear those I knit myself.
Our clothes express both how we see ourselves, and how we want others to see us. When I began my professional career in the late 1970s, a slightly built, young woman in a man’s profession, my clothes announced that I was serious and competent. Tailored navy blue suit. Neat silk shirts and blouses. Heeled pumps. Leather briefcase.
I had the look down but I was never entirely comfortable with that conformity. I wanted something that announced I was unique. I wanted to stand out, just a bit, not too much. I learned to wear scarves. Good quality silk or wool scarves casually tossed over my shoulders or loosely tied. I wore them almost every day.
As the years passed, my confidence grew and I learned I didn’t have to force myself into the male mold. There is a place for the feminine in the office. The lines of my suits softened. My skirts flared. I continued to wear scarves.
When I retired my life and my dress were blank canvasses. I had long empty hours not sure what to do. I gave away my work clothes but my Saturday clothes weren’t right either. My jewelry stayed in the box, my scarves in the closet.
My life filled again, caring for aging parents and new grandchildren, volunteering at work that feels important to me, knitting, sewing and growing my own vegetables. I am learning to be creative, learning to be free to fail, learning I am not dependent on success. Blue jeans replaced the navy suit, tee shirts replaced the silk blouses. Instead of neat button earrings, now my earrings dangle.
I am wearing scarves again. But it is time for the old scarves to go. Today I wear those I knit myself.