A word on fashion

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Since I worked in a fancy-schmancy ad agency for all of my twenties and then some, a lot of my time, effort, and money went into the wardrobe required for that job. Ladies were not permitted to wear slacks (I know, I know), and when I finally left I had accrued no less than 42 dresses and/or skirts over the years. A ton of my “wardrobe” head-space went into dressing myself for that job.

Fast-forward to me freelancing. While I actually miss my spiffy 4-inch heels (don’t fault me for liking some height!), they aren’t exactly a logical choice when you spend half your time sitting behind a computer and the other half chasing an increasingly mobile baby. And having spent my weekdays wearing dresses for over a decade, I’m enjoying pants.

But.

All that investment that went into my work wardrobe is¬†noticeably¬†missing from my non-work clothes. I like to think I’ve got some modicum of style, but every time I open my dresser or closet I can’t help but feel I’m in a desert. Those items I do like I am wearing to death — my most beloved jeans are a couple threads from revealing underwear secrets, my favorite tanks and tees are starting to unravel at edges.

It’s hard to carve out time for something as silly as clothes shopping right now. But if I’m going to be spending so much time in non-work clothes now, it’s time to be a big girl put the time into a new wardrobe. Which, now that I type that out, doesn’t really sound all that bad.

I bought bright red capris and a dress covered in tiny dinosaurs. That’s a start.

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