I’m wearing a new shirt today.
What’s that, you say? Why yes, I find that to be true as well! New clothes do make life worth living!
As shallow and self-serving as it may sound, somehow, wearing something to work that I’ve never worn before makes my job more exciting.
Can you imagine? More excitement than I had yesterday! Is that possible? As if the giddiness of yesterday’s filing and repeated “Good morning this is Pearl how can I help you?” wasn’t enough!! And now I’m doing it in a new shirt?
How in the world am I going to top this? The mind. She reels.
It’s been a fact of my corporate/office-style existence since, oh, well, let’s see. I started working right after World War I – the War to End All Wars, we called it. At first, I was content to just draw lines up the backs of my legs to simulate nylons, but I wanted more. I wanted one of those mink-biting-its-feet stoles like you saw in the talkies. I wanted my cigarettes in those long holders. I wanted to draw arches into my eyebrows that said “beat it, wise guy!”. I wanted shoulder pads that would make Joan Crawford weep.
I’m a little more subdued these days. I no longer think that knee-high moccasins are appropriate for the office. You can no longer tell what my favorite bands are from the logos on my shirts. I no longer carry changes of clothes in the back seat of my car, just in case I didn’t make it home the night before; and I now put on new make-up every day, even if I woke up in yesterday’s.
How's that for upwardly mobile?
This new attention to my wardrobe might explain my rocket-like rise to power in the last 80 years from dance hall girl to vaudeville crooner to receptionist/copy lackey to World’s Best Executive Assistant. (The title is self-appointed, but I’m sure HR will back me up on this.)
Anyway, that’s all I had to say today. Just wanted to let you know that I look and feel spiffy.