(Image borrowed from http://wallpaperswide.com/suit_up-wallpapers.html)
My very first trouser suit, neatly and carefully packaged, came by post.
It arrived in the middle of the day, utterly distinguishable, sophisticated even in the relatively extreme amount of wrapped it was protected by, and practically demanding to be unwrapped and worshipped, and yet it sat in my bedroom for at least two days before I finally plucked the beautiful garment from its confines and held it up to the light of day.
(Well, the light of my bedroom, but let’s not get picky)
Why did I leave it so long? Leave it to suffer unacknowledged and uncared for, when it should have been hung up immediately, wrapping discarded, and properly appreciated?
Because it wasn’t just a trouser suit. It was my first trouser suit. Wearing it, I would go forth with ambition and resourcefulness to improve my future and change my life, leaving behind the awkward teenage years to embark upon a new era of markedly better fashion choices and growing responsibility. A terrifying prospect, of course, but with that suit, I would be very well equipped. The trouser suit is a symbol of strength and determination, and I intended to be strong. To do that, I needed to wait for the right moment.
The opportune moment, if you will.
Finally, that moment came. (That moment being the day my mum yelled at me for leaving it as long as I had and endangering the possibility of a refund, should it not fit). I removed it carefully from the several layers of wrapping in which it arrived, put it on, determined that it did in fact fit, and wonderfully, and descended the stairs with as much majesty as I could muster. (Which, if you know me, is woefully little. But, I digress).
I wandered into the kitchen to find my parents, eager for their opinion on what I was convinced was a masterstroke in regards to the first impression I would give in an interview, and was met with the following:
“You look so grown-up!”
Needless to say, that was not the response I’d hoped for. I’d anticipated disbelief, excitement, and perhaps a touch of wonder. But what I got transformed me straight back into that ten-year-old girl buying a new pair of shoes. In other words: it was somewhat less than ideal.
So what did I do, you ask? (Or, potentially, don’t ask, since I have no way of gauging your interest in this little story, and I’m not here to make assumptions – this time)
I persevered. ‘Grown-up’ was something akin to what I had hoped for, of course, so I simply tried again, wearing it to two interviews in the space of about a week.
And you know what? It was great. I felt strong, I felt resourceful, and I felt powerful. The woman in the trouser suit means business, and I felt like I meant business, even if I wasn’t quite sure what that business was or why I meant it.
Buy that trouser suit that catches your eye. Or that blouse. Or those knee-high leather boots that you just know you’ll feel good in. Because when I started writing this, I didn’t intend to leave a profound message, but I did (sort of), and when you wear the clothes you love, you’ll do things you didn’t think you could do as well.
Go forth, friend, and conquer.