Once a month I feel the need to reinvent myself. It is usually nothing drastic—eat healthy, exercise more, drink less—and it often begins with a new pair of shoes. For example, you can’t shop at Whole Foods without a new pair of eco-friendly flip flops and you can’t exercise without a new pair of tennis shoes (even if the exercise in question happens to be barefoot yoga.)
The past few months have been a total whirlwind. I ended a seven year relationship, moved into a new house after my landlord failed to pay his mortgage, and planned and executed an event for over 900 people including the Mayor of Baltimore. I feel like I have grown more in these past few months than I have in years. So in an effort to make my newly found maturity apparent to the outside world I have decided to wear “nice” clothes to work.
Don’t get me wrong. We have a dress code in the office that I adhere to and I always look presentable (at least I would like to thing so.) However, I have a beautiful closet of clothes that tend to be overlooked, because they are high maintenance. These pieces of, albeit beautiful garments, need ironed or dry-cleaned, have ten million buttons and zippers, and/or get a little tight around the waist after lunch.
To entice myself to step up to the proverbial “shoe plate” I purchased these. They are the most comfortable pair of shoes, and make me feel like the fashion couture diva that I would love to be, but fall slightly short of all too often. They say, “I am serious, but still know how to have a good time.” Exactly the effect I hope to achieve.
Hopefully, my new digs will also score me the raise I need to pay them off. Not exactly the most mature thing I have ever done, but all work and no play makes Faith not only dull, but also unfashionable, and this I simply cannot deal with.