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.

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?