I dedicate this post to my dear friend Karen…
Prior to starting my new job I needed to go shopping for new clothes. I don’t love shopping. I used to love it before I had children. Now it feels like another chore, and it takes forever just to get through the mall, and then finding something that looks good on you, that has a reasonable price tag and that is work-appropriate is an additional challenge. All things considered, I knew that going shopping and updating my wardrobe to fit with my new role as a (official! Grown up! No longer a student/postdoc! Woo Hoo!) scientist was a necessity, as my old partially bleached and/or permanent marker stained postdoc clothes was not going to cut it. Still, why bother going shopping for a new wardrobe one might ask? Sounds like a very superficial thing to worry about for a scientist who takes themselves seriously? Well, it would be nice to pretend that caring about what one looks like doesn’t matter. But that is not the case. As you can see, this topic has been discussed here, and here. It is like we are expected to look nice, however we shouldn’t talk about it, in fear of bursting the effortlessness bubble of how we should “have it all” and “look good (and effortless) doing it.”
How you present yourself matters. My reasons for seeking a new wardrobe all had to do with me growing into a professional I so yearned to be. The team I was going to manage has been comprised of people who have worked with the company for many years, and who actually are older than me. It was this intimidation factor of not knowing what to expect that drove me to try and attempt to control the uncontrollable, and at least get myself looking respectable. Chemicalbilology addressed it in one of her blog entries, which took on an interesting angle of ornery undergrads not respecting her style of teaching. And why? Having spent enough time TA-ing undergrads at that very institution (and postdoc-ing with Chemicalbilology), I know it was because she didn’t wear tweed jackets with elbow patches, or knit sweater vests and pleated pants. So I was determined to buy a wardrobe that spoke for itself about the excitement for the new position from my perspective, and not from a perspective of a middle-aged man with a poor fashion sense. Through my newly acquired clothing I wanted to convey my enthusiasm for meeting my team, and learning all the awesome ways that I could contribute to their overall already awesome professional spirit. This sounds a bit shallow, how could my clothing choices affect my team’s overarching awesomess? I guess I was just trying to adjust my confidence levels, after all, if you look as fabulous as Kerry Washington in “Scandal,” you’re bound to kick butt, right? Or Gillian Anderson in “The Fall,” or even Charlotte or Miranda (it will take me some time to grow in to Samantha’s outfits, and for the most part, Carrie’s outfits have always been intriguing and questionable for me). And certainly, my inspiration was inspired by Stacy and Clinton from way back when I had time to watch really good bad TV.