Why Do We Dress to Impress?

Yesterday morning, I was up by 7am.  I ate breakfast, I showered, I fixed my hair, applied make-up, slipped into a dress and heels and headed into the office.  I was at my desk my 9am.

For most women, this is a typical workday.

For me, it's not.

I grew up dressing to impress.  Pants in church were verboten.  High school was all about having the *right* jeans and shoes.  Guess and Polo reigned supreme.

College was even worse.  I went to the ultimate country club, conversative, prepster university.  Mid-90s slacker/grunge skipped right over Greenville, South Carolina.  Sorority jerseys, hair bows, pearls and dresses were the standard uniform.  I worn jeans *maybe* once a week.  I never once wore pajamas or sweat pants.  I even wore make-up when I worked out and put on a dress or skirt for Sunday morning brunch in the dining hall, even if I'd slept in and not gone to church. 

This dress to impress compulsion persisted throughout grad school and my early working years.  

We're told to dress to impress.  For the job that we aspire to.  For the person we want to be.  For the people we could possibly meet.  For the off chance Stacy and Clinton are hiding out in the Publix with a video camera the day I decide to go--gasp--unshowered and in my 15 year old running shorts to get some groceries.

But here's the deal.  I love heels and dresses and make-up as much as the next girl.  But these rituals are expensive.  And time consuming.  And quite frankly, often unnecessary.

I HAVE the job I aspire to.  I am COMFORTABLE with who I am.  I don't care anymore if Stacy and Clinton catch me off guard wearing workout clothes to run errands, because hey--at least I'll get a $5,000 shopping spree out of it.

And most days, I dress--or dress down--for the sole benefit for my cat and dog.

As women and as a society, we've created all sorts of rules about what's proper and acceptable.  Conversation on recent blogs about the topic have turned into heated debates about whether jeans are acceptable conference attire and the "proper" height of heels and skirts.

But exactly WHO are we trying to impress? 

Are we impressing or just conforming, and to what end?

My friend Allison wrote a brilliant post early this week about this very subject.

There's being professional and neat, and then there's being so obsessed with what everyone else thinks that you're afraid to leave your house without being just *so* for fear of mocking or scorn by anonymous people who could care less about your messy hair, big zit or ratty flip flops.

I totally understand dressing for office culture, for your audience, for the occasion.  I would never wear flip flops to present at a conference, nor would I ever wear anything revealing to anything but a cocktail party.

But I find nothing wrong with meeting a client in my workout clothes before I head to the gym or walking down to my neighborhood restaurant without make-up on.  I'm done trying to be or look perfect all the time.  I can be just as if not MORE productive sitting at home in my underwear as I would be sitting at a desk in an uncomfortable suit. 

And that outfit I wore yesterday to the office?  By 2pm, the seam of my dress was insanely itchy.  My feet were throbbing.  Most of the make-up had sweated off.  I longed to be at home in my PJs, where I could stop worrying so much about how I looked and--gasp--get some work done.

No Boundaries

When I first started blogging about four years ago, my ex scolded me for being "too public."  I had shared several personal things that I felt compelled to write, among them, depression (a familiar topic in this space), the suicide of a close family friend and my rape.  I'm not ashamed of any of those things and would gladly talk to stranger and friend alike about them, mostly because I don't think we talk about the difficult things enough.  And your response to yesterday's post is proof of that.  Many of you shared your same struggles publicly, others shared them privately, but the fact of the matter is that far too many of us suffer in silence.  We put on masks.  We show only our happy faces.  We strive for perfection.  We don't give ourselves room and time to breathe and feel and just BE.  Our true selves--stripped and bare and vulnerable.

After my ex asked me to remove that first blog (which I now know was just his way of controlling and isolating me, but that's another post), I started blogging under pseudonyms.  And even when I added my name to this blog, I was uncertain.  Not from a personal perspective, but from a professional one.  I'm strong-willed and opinionated.  I write about a lot of personal things.  Would that make potential or existing clients uncomfortable?  Less willing to hire me?

I was reluctant to even link to this blog to my professional website because I didn't think it was, well, "professional."  And I had all of these preconceived notions about what a "professional" blog should be. Neat and pretty and upbeat, stocked with great photos and full of great tips about business and entrepreneurship and PR and social media.  Not some free Blogger template filled with my late night angst and deepest fears.

And then I connected with inspiring, honest and REAL people like Allison Nazarian and Elizabeth Potts Weinstein, people that run successful businesses without losing their identities.  Who write about anything and everything because that's who they are.  The person and brand are one and the same.

And I threw out all of those ideas of what a blog "should" be.  This is my name and my blog, and I can write whatever I want to.  Because I AM the brand.  There is no distinction between Laura Scholz, the person, and Laura Scholz, the writer/speaker/business owner.  It's all part of the same whole, the same essence, the same being.  I am who I am.  No apologies.  And no boundaries.

Thanks to you all for teaching me that very important lesson.

Happy Anniversary to Me!

Today marks the three year anniversary of my business. Its inception wasn't the result of a genius business plan, or months of preparation or some late-night creative inspiration. No, quite simply, three years ago today, I lost my job. A job I loved. A job that came with a near six figure salary, a corner office overlooking Peachtree Street and a boss I adored. And it all vanished.

After the obligatory crying, panicking and desperate calls to friends, I sat down at my computer in the corner of my spare bedroom and composed an email to everyone I knew, telling them I was immediately available for freelance writing and public relations work. And Scholz Communications was born.

It's not been an easy path or a direct one, but every twist and turn has led me here, and for that I am grateful.  And I'm most especially grateful for all of you--my family and friends and colleagues and clients--who have continued to believe in me and counsel me through the constant fear  and change and self-doubt.

So thank you, one and all.

I Took a Vacation So I Could Work

Yes, I recognize the irony of posting a blog about not hiding and then essentially going into hiding.  For two weeks.

I'll be honest--I wasn't well.  I was overwhelmed, depressed and physically and emotionally exhausted.  I had given others so much from my own well that mine was completely dry.  

When you're a solopreneur, taking time off seems impossible.  Indulgent.  Incomprehensible.

Until you find yourself like I did last month--completely worn-out, anxious, bone-tired and completely useless to myself, my clients, my friends and my family.

So, I took a break.  A REAL break.  Four days of nothing but amazing food, people and experiences.  I stopped trying to control and plan and manipulate every single second, step, decision, workout.  I stopped trying to "power through" and let my mind and my body rest.  Of course, my definition of "rest" included a 10K race!  But my approach was different.  It was quiet, meditative, open--more about the experience and my energy and effort rather than some must hit or I'll-wallow-in-self-pity-for-two-weeks-because-I-clearly-suck time goal.

So, here I am, rested, peaceful and determined, diving into the second half of my year determined to figure out the meaning of this unfamiliar concept called "balance."

Running on Empty

So, I have something to confess.  I slept almost all day yesterday.  Maybe it was the red wine, maybe it was the allergies, maybe it was the hormones, but mostly, it's because I'm exhausted, and I haven't been taking proper care of myself.

Nearly two weeks ago, I hurt my calf during a routine Saturday morning run.  I didn't have my phone, so I limped nearly three quarters of a mile down Peachtree Battle to a friend's store to call my husband for a ride home.

If you know anything about me, you know that I get depressed and cranky when I can't run.  And when I'm depressed and cranky, I don't eat well.  I indulge in too much cheese dip, chocolate and red wine.  I forget to work out.  I don't sleep well.  I lack energy and focus.

To top it off, I've been horrible about managing my schedule.  I'm overbooked, exhausted, running on empty and have no one to blame but myself. 

I usually prepare for the upcoming week on Sunday afternoons--cheery, optimistic and organized.

Four days of endless proposals, meetings, calls, events and late nights later, I collapse in a heap on the sofa, lacking the energy to even return a simple email.  I become paralyzed.  Disillusioned.  Every.  Damn.  Week.

Something has to give.  I can't keep up this pace, or I'll never make it through marathon training this fall or build my business the way I want to.  I need to take better care of myself.  I need to learn to say no.  To trust my gut more.  To delegate.  To give in to the exhaustion and go to bed at 9pm some nights.  To give myself time to breathe and reflect and write and dream.  To spend time with my husband.  To recharge.

Because this pace is unhealthy, it's not smart, and it's making me crazy.

Confession: I hate PR

I have a confession to make: I HATE PR.

To be more specific, I hate being a PR practitioner.

Why?  Because of the unusually difficult expectations I place on myself and the inevitable disappointment; because I hate being pushy, especially with strangers; because in its traditional form, it's dying; and most importantly, because it doesn't feel authentic to me any more.

Which doesn't mean it's not the right profession for others, or that there aren't others practicing PR in new and exciting and pitch-perfect ways.  Because there are.  But I don't want to be one of them. 

When I initially started freelancing, I wanted to be a writer.  But PR opportunities kept falling into my lap.  And I kept taking them, because, let's face it, in the beginning stages of entrepreneurship, any money is good money.

And while my business philosophy has evolved into a more holistic approach to communications, I'm still known as the "PR girl."  And I still feel compelled to take on business that doesn't excite me, just because I can and it pays the bills.

At least I did until two weeks ago, when my oldest paying client and I parted ways.  It was an amicable parting (they are moving on to bigger and better things), and while disappointing, it was ultimately freeing.

I don’t HAVE to be a publicist. I don’t HAVE to take on work that doesn’t excite me. I don’t HAVE to do or be anything I don’t want to do or be.

Which doesn't mean my current clients won't benefit from my expertise in traditional PR and media relations, or that PR won't pay a role in future communications campaigns.  But it's only one piece of a much more comprehensive strategy.  I want to teach my clients how to create their own content and opportunities, to find their unique voices, to become their own best advocates.  I want to be more than just their publicist.

And that is something I’m passionate, excited and honest about, something I would be proud to market and sell to others.   Because it’s MY truth.

Mental Health Day

From a few weeks ago...

I'm not an extrovert, but I play one in my life.  This week, I had no fewer than twenty meetings and six evening commmitments--including a networking event I hosted for nearly 100 people--in the span of four days.

Needless to say, I woke up exhausted this morning.  And then when I rececived an email with some not-so-good news, I did what any overworked, exhausted and completely depleted person would--I crawled back into bed, swaddled myself with sheets and bawled. 

This latest round of self-pity lasted for over an hour, at which time I could no longer ignore the beckoning sunshine and the crisp spring air blowing through my matted morning hair.  It was simply too beautiful of a day to stay indoors.  To mourn that which cannot be changed.  And then I had a realization--I should take a day for myself.  To do whatever I wanted.  No work, no rules, no obligations.

And then I sat there.  Nothing.

A run?  Well, that's kind of like work.  Write?  That would involve the laptop.  (hence why I originally wrote this with old-fashioned pen and paper), which I had zero interest in opening.  TV?  Too much stimulation.  Pilates class?  Another obligation.  Shopping?  No money.  Massage?  See the previous statement.  Walk?  I didn't feel strong enough to get out of bed.  Read?  Too much thinking.  Piano?  Too fragile to hear what I sound like after years of neglect.

It's scary to realize that you've been going, moving and doing for so long that you can't even remember what it is you'd LIKE to do, given complete and utter freedom.  I had absolutely no idea.

Last night, I read a great article on running and meditation, so I decided to give that a try.  Much to my cat's consternation (she's a big fan of the wallow), I reluctantly unwrapped myself from the twisted sheets and sat down on the floor.  I tried to breathe, to stay present, to relax and let go, to listen.

And then I decided that I wanted to go to the park.  Not to run, not to walk, just to be.    

I grabbed a blanket and some of my dog's toys, packed her into the car and took off--no agenda.  We played with balls and sticks and dirt, basked in the sun, and then took a short jog.  No watch, no goal, no plan.  I didn't get annoyed when she stopped to sniff or mark her territory.  I tried to soak in the colors, the air, the breath, the joy.

Then I was hungry.  And I'd been craving Chick-fil-A.  So, I got the usual--eight piece chicken nugget meal with lemonade.  I got home and the food made me think of more food, so I decided to watch Top Chef Masters on the DVR.  While eating fried, processed food.  I giggled a little, then cheered on a friend of a friend, grateful for the opportunity I had to eat at his restaurant back in January.  Grateful for food and for friendship.  The darkness lifted a little.

I decided to watch some 24.  To turn off the Blackberry.  To scream a little at the scary parts.  To just escape a little.

And then I put some clothes away and vacuumed the bedroom.  Not because I had to, but because I wanted to.  I put on loud music and danced.  Naked. And I'm currently sipping on some wine and enjoying the view from our rooftop deck.  I'm more relaxed.  I'm centered.  And I haven't touched work all day.

It's so easy to get stuck in the hamster wheel, to keep running and running until even the things you used to enjoy aren't fun any more.  Until you don't even know who you are or what you like.

Sometimes, you just need a day off to discover yourself again.

Running Uphill

Do you ever have one of those days when you lack total energy and focus, mostly because you're avoiding something you know you should do?

Today, I was avoiding many things, but chief among them was hills repeats.

For you non-runners, hill repeats are pretty much as awful as they sound.  Run up a hill and back down.  Repeat.  Again.  And again.  Until your quads are quivering and you curse yourself for choosing such a torturous hobby.

I love running, I truly do.  But I'm a fair weather friend.  I love running when it's 60 degrees and sunny; when the roads are flat and empty; when I've had 12 hours of sleep and just the right amout of fuel; when there's no pollen and my asthma isn't acting up; when it feels fun and free and easy.  Which pretty much means one day out of every 100.

In running, as in life, I bargain with myself.  Maybe I'll skip today's run.  Or maybe I'll just run two miles and skip the hills.  Or maybe I'll quit after the first hill.  Or maybe after the second.

When you're in baragaining mode, it's pretty easy to talk yourself out of most any and every commitment.  But what I've learned in running--and what I'm trying to apply to my entrepreneurial life--is that there IS no perfect day.  You'll never have enough time.  Or enough sleep.  Or enough money.  Or enough energy.  But you have to put one foot in front of the other.  It's the only way to get to the top of the hill.

When You Work for Free, We All Pay

So far this year, two blog posts have really inspired me and the way I think about business.

The first was Elizabeth Potts Weinstein's manifesto, "I'm Not Sorry About Selling," which contains my favorite words in the history of entrepreneurship: Dude. This is not a freaking non-profit.

The second was Nicole Jordan's brilliant "No. You Can't Pick My Brain," a phrase that me and my entrepreneurial friends invoke on an almost daily basis.

I think both women hit one of the issues that inhibits both the growth of our businesses as well as those of our fellow entrepenereurs: we give things away.  All. The. Time.

A huge chunk of time here, a string of free tips there, until we have nothing of value left to share or sell.  And it's bad enough that we're undervaluing our own worth, but we're also undercutting the value of others' products and services, because all of this "free advice" floating around out there creates the expectation that you can get anything and everything for free.  Which means no one gets paid. 

If you know anything about me, you know that I have a huge heart.  Probably too big.  I'm the first one to offer advice, a connection, an introduction--for childhood friends and new acquaintances alike.  I truly believe in the power of the loconomy, of relationships, of partnership and collaboration.

But there's a difference between a free food sample from your favorite restaurant at a local festival and sitting at the chef's table at that same restaurant for a six-course meal with wine pairings. 

Nibbling is great.  Nibbles turn into bites which turn into meals.

But you can't build a business on nibbles, and every time you give away a meal disguised as a sample, you might as well tack that "closed" sign on your door right now--and to that of every business around you.

We need each other, and we need to start valuing and supporting each others' work.  And sometimes, that means opening up your wallet and shelling out some cash.

A Little Help From My Friends

You can have mentors and coaches and cheerleaders galore, but nothing takes the place of a really good friend.  Not just any friend, but a kindred spirit.  A twin soul that inspires and motivates you, that dreams things you would never dream for yourself.

For me, that person is Casey McCann.  Not only is she a brilliant musician and educator, but she's a visionary thinker, who is 100% committed to her passion, her vision and her truth.

I first met Casey at a funeral.  It was a gloomy winter day, and we had just witnessed the burial of a mutual friend's boyfriend, who left the world much too soon after a two year battle with a brain tumor.  I don't remember much about that day, other than our mutual friend singing the most haunting rendition of Eva Cassidy's "Songbird," and the serendipidous sound of a marching band outside the funeral home serenading his soul into the afterlife.

And Casey.  I was blown away by her poise, her energy, her spirit.  We didn't talk again for another year or so, meeting again through our mutual friend, who was hosting a CD release party.  We had a brief conversation about my public relations business, which was in its infancy, and her music school, which was thriving and making its mark on the community.

I'm not quite sure the next time we saw each other, but that the raw wounds of our mutual divorces, our joint quest for spiritual and personal fulfillment and our shared passion for entrepreneurship bonded us for life.

Since that time, I've watched her confidence blossom, her spirit soar, her soul center, and the impact of her business has been incredible.  She's a living example of the impact authenticity, passion and truth can have on a business.  I leave every conversation with her insired, empowered, convicted, centered and resolute.

In an era when "coaches" and "experts" are a dime a dozen, it's a poweful remider that sometimes, all you really need is a little help from your friends.

Growing Pains: When the Brand Becomes Bigger than You

It's been less than two weeks since the great Facebook purge of 2010, and I'm still getting at least five random friend requests a day. 

I see you're a fan of x (company #2); me, too! Let's connect.

Um, no thank you.  If you're a fan, just become a fan, especially if we have no natural point of intersection or previous connection.

I've previously talked about this issue in terms of privacy (I'm under no illusion that I have any on the internet) or boundaries (being selective about whom you connect with).  But it's really an issue of branding.

When you're building a business--especially as a solopreneur--social media platforms naturally become a hodgepodge of personal and professional.  Even if you have a website, a LinkedIn account or a stand-alone professional blog, it's pretty much impossible--and probably not desirable--to remove all traces of your professional self from social networking sites.  After all your network--even if its just friends and family--can be a powerful tool for generating leads and promoting your business.

That's why I've adopted a hybrid approach to branding.  You'll see it in this blog, on my Facebook page, on my Twitter account, and in the way I interact and connect with people.  Personality sells.  And I can't separate Laura the person from Laura the entrepreneur.  The two are too intertwined. 

And while I believe wholeheartedly in this approach, I'm having growing pains.  The more visible I become and the more people I connect with, the more I WANT some separation between my personal and professional lives; the more murky the lines between friendship and business become; the more wary I become of endorsing people or places or products, lest they mistakenly become associated with my professional brand.

In other words, my brand, like my business, has some growing up to do.  I'm no longer managing one business, but two.  I have a (very small) staff.  I'm expanding my professional offerings and venturing into the big scary world of speaking engagements and writing opportunities.  All of which I want and welcome.  

But the brand has become bigger than me--an extension of me, yes; but only me--no.  And my online presence has to reflect that.  So, it may mean turning down a few Facebook friend requests I would've accepted a year ago and directing those people to my fan page.  It may mean a little less Twitter chatter about wine and more about my latest exciting project.  And more conversations here about the intersection of entrepreneurship, personality and brand.

Bring on adolescence.

My Name is Laura, and...

They say admitting a problem is the first step toward recovery.

Hi, my name is Laura, and I'm an entrepreneur.

Hopelessly creative. 
Stubbornly ambitious. 
Occasionally manic. 
Always dreaming.

I've been through a bit of a blue spell lately, the kind I think we all go through when doggedly pursuing our dreams. The crazy long hours. The endless self-promotion. The financial uncertainty. The fits of self-doubt.

But at the end of the day, I persevere because I can't imagine doing anything else. Because it feeds my mind and my soul. Because I am resolute in my dreams. Because I can't imagine returning to cubicle hell.

But most of all, because I can't imagine doing anything else.

I AM an entrepreneur.  Are you?  And what are you going to do about it?

Best of 2009

I think many of us will agree that 2009 was a difficult year.  And it felt difficult while living it.  But looking back, I have so much to be grateful for and wanted to share some of the highlights with you.

FAMILY

• I got married!  On February 27, 2009, I married the love of my life, Tim Long.  Just a small, simple ceremony with my sister, brother-in-law and parents in attendance.  It was the perfect way to start our life together.  I couldn't ask for a better friend, partner, cheerleader and coach.

• My sister got married, too!  Her celebration was larger and more elaborate, but no less joyful.  So happy to welcome Brian to our family and see my sister so happy.

• My parents celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary!  So, so grateful for their love and support.  And their genes--don't they look amazing?

• My dad completed his first half marathon!  Our family trip to Kiawah Island was supposed to be my marathon debut.  Alas, it was not meant to be--a nasty case of swine flu knocked me out.  But it was a true joy to cheer on my father as he crossed the finish line--two days later, he was ready for more! 

FRIENDS

• My best friend Emily had another sweet baby boy, Samuel "Cutler," every bit as adorable as his big brother, Jonah.  Such a blessing to be able to spend time with the Hardings this year.
  

• While the Country Music Marathon was my least favorite event of the year, I got to spend the entire weekend with one of my best friends, Angela Hansberger.  It was our third season training together, and collectively, we've raised over $30,000 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.  Angela had never even run a mile until her dear friend Kate was diagnosed over two years ago--what a joy to run all of those miles with her, and better still, to celebrate Kate being cancer free this summer.

• The 4th of July!  It's my favorite holiday.  This year, I ran the Peachtree Road Race for the eight consecutive year with my TNT friends, my husband, my dad and honorary brother David Cordell, whose wife Sarah (my best friend from college) and son Nathan have started joining us for the holiday.  I love nothing more than a great run in the sweltering heat with 60,000 of my closet friends, followed by grilling out, fruity drinks and low-key times with family.

• The Stupid Chickens!  Most Wednesday nights, you can find me, Tim and our neighbors and close friends, Paul and Sarah McKibben, plus others who joined us along the way, at Bone Garden Cantina.  No matter how packed our training and work schedules are, Wednesday night has become sacred time reserved for fellowship over cheese dip and margaritas.  Better yet, we managed to win four straight quarterly tournaments--earning us bar cash for even more cheese dip and margaritas!

• My dear friends Jaclyn and Roger got married!  I met them through my very first Team in Training event, when their relationship was brand new, so it's been a joy to watch them fall deeper and deeper in love as the months and years have passed.  Mazel tov!

• Twitter!  I heart Twitter.  Yes, not all connections on Twitter turn into friendships (see this recent blog post for more), but many of them did, particularly with my long-lost twin Gini Dietrich (whom I got to meet in Chicago in October), and the fabulously witty and wonderful Marisa Sharpe.  So blessed to meet so many amazing new people.

 FOOD 

2009 was the year this formerly picky eater became a foodie.

Highlights?

• Meeting Jen and Ryan Hidinger of Staple House.  Fabulous people making fabulous food (and football fanatics).  You won't meet more real people in all of Atlanta, and Tim and I are happy to call them friends.  Can't wait for their restaurant to open!
  

• Woodfire Grill.  I had four outstanding meals at Woodfire this year: Tim's birthday, a girls' night out with Angela, my birthday dinner with family and a serendipitous meal with my friend Chris.  All very sweet memories, made even sweeter by the company as well as the outstanding food and service.
  

• Antico pizza.  I need a 12 step program for this pizza.  My best experience there was a private tasting in the kitchen, where we ate slice after slice of cheesy goodness.  While the place has lost some of its initial charm, the pizza is still heavenly enough to merit a weekly visit.

• The Holeman and Finch burger.  It's legendary.  For those who don't know, they only make 24 burgers a day and only serve them at 10pm.  And on Christmas Eve, Tim and I FINALLY got to taste Atlanta's juiciest novelty.  We've decided to make it an annual tradition. 
  

• Julie and Julia.  The ultimate foodie movie.  Several of us (including Patti and Kathianne, pictured below), got together to celebrate a friend's birthday, then went to see the movie that had all donning aprons and craving beef bourguignon. 

FORTUNE

While 2009 seemed challenging in the moment, as I look back, it was a year of huge growth.  For me as a person, as a runner and as an entrepreneur.  I can't say thank you enough to all of the people who made that possible and look forward to more amazing experiences, relationships and connections in 2010.

Pass the champagne!