Dress Code

I'll open this entry by attempting to even out my stream of bitching about XXX by mentioning a few good things about working there. Like they pay me (unless, of course, 100% of my check is mistakenly allocated to my 401k account...or if Eric is out the Monday before payday...or I accidentally receive a paper check instead of the electronic deposit I signed up for). More importantly, XXX is involved in many charitable organizations, particularly the American Cancer Society and Big Brothers/Big Sisters. This goes beyond the simple, "Everyone, please make a donation,": We've stuffed Christmas stockings during the holidays, and backpacks in the dog days of summer for underprivileged kids. We raised an astonishing amount of money for the ACS Relay for Life, and even shaved a coworker's head to auction off "advertising space" for the benefit of pediatric cancer research.*

Today, Sean was attending a benefit for the colorblind, or at least one would hope based on his choice of apparel. Let's start with the good: The Nutrisystem diet appears to be working as I no longer feel as threatened by being shot by a wayward button as I used to (but I also won't dismiss the possibility that this was a larger shirt). Also, the clothing appeared to be pressed, rather than "hopefully clean." He was "dressed up" which would have been a refreshing deviation from the norm if it hadn't included a lime-ish dress shirt, maroon (or maybe burgundy?) tie and navy blue jacket. Woah. He could have accessorized it with a fresh shave, but I guess there's no need to pull out all of the stops when your audience has already been stopped dead in their tracks by the palette of pain that is your wardrobe. I'll be the first to admit that I'm no fashionista, but I can recall observing my father's attire at the breakfast table with half-closed eyes several times while growing up (and this was a time when I was even more oblivious than I currently am about what matches/clashes, what's in, what's out, what's what) and asking, "You aren't REALLY going to wear that to work, are you?" This query was posed out of sheer disbelief/confusion rather than out of bratty spite, and I can prove this by stating when he would ask my mom if she agreed, she appeared horrified that this fashion disaster didn't crash prior to reaching the kitchen. How did Sean leave the house this morning unnoticed? Where was the intervention?

I'd mentioned that the habits of dress at XXX should be discussed in a future entry; I didn't think that entry would occur this afternoon. Still, dressing up is really one of the easier things to do if you're a guy. You don't have to deal with nylons, pointy-toed shoes, locating the appropriate supportive wear, trying on bottoms that are sized in either odd numbers, even numbers, or the European sizes, overdressing or underdressing, waxing, manicures/pedicures, accessorizing, etc. If you disagree, please let me know all about the last time you had your eyebrows waxed while worrying about which polish to paint your fingernails for fear of it mismatching your clothing. That's right, when was the last time you poked a hole through your nylons before shoving your feet into some pointy shoes. When did you last suck yourself into a size 8 skirt (that you thought was a 27, but that's the LESS dressy black skirt) and struggle with the zipper/button/and eyelet closure all the while cursing yourself out for forgetting the damn control-top pantyhose you REALLY should be wearing? After all of this preparation, when was the last time you finally got to your destination, sucked/tucked and generally uncomfortable, and then realized that your stupid handbag doesn't match, or that you have ANOTHER run in your nylons and the rest of your coworkers are wearing jeans? I'm not bitter, really, it seems (and this is coming from the female perspective) as though you guys can throw on a pair of pants, button down shirt, jacket and tie and be set for almost any occasion. This results in a whopping 4 items to match. Furthermore, it seems as though all men's shirts come in either white or blue. The fact that Sean found perhaps the only lime-green dress shirt ever manufactured is noteworthy; the fact that he paired it with a maroon tie is, well, it's something. It's typical of our office dress code.

As far as I've been able to tell, our dress code consists of two rules. 1) Cover anatomy that would be blurred out by cable television 2) Avoid wearing items that would merit calls to the CDC. This obviously leaves a lot of room for leeway and our special little corner of the world should not be trusted with such discretion. We are too busy alternating our time between making important business/trading decisions** and acting like 12-year-olds.

The CX attire was "business casual" which basically translates into "dry-clean only." Aside from the ridiculous amount of money I had to pay to wear my clothes each week, I enjoyed being part of such an environment--it was sort of like wearing a uniform to school. Everyone looked the same, everyone looked nice and there was never that hesitation as to whether or not something was appropriate. If it was boring, it was appropriate. I wore the same stuff every week, and fudged the rest of my appearance. Time willing, I'd throw on my version of "makeup" (equivalent to fast food; it's quick, easy and could be better, but held me over) and attempt to dry my hair in an effort to avoid being characterized as "lazy," "unprofessional" or even "unfeminine"***. I put in minimal effort, and this fact was recorded pointedly by another coworker (proving maybe some people are more observant than others).

Once I interviewed with the laid back patriarchs of XXX, the less formal code employed by them immediately appealed to me and my inherent morning laziness. Throw on clothes, and the rest was optional. No need to worry about catty women, looking cute up at reception or stabbing my eye out in an unfortunate mascara accident, if I didn't feel like taking the risk. Perfect!

But everything is at first, isn't it? This was back in the fall, when most people were covered in things like...well...pants. And hoodies. And sneakers. Oh, the horrors unveiled in the spring!

Again, please keep in mind I don't exemplify office chic. My typical uniform is jeans and a tshirt. Once in a while, I'll dress up in the old CX threads. I've found this turns heads, mostly because they think one of the neighboring bankers has entered the wrong office.

Anyway, in no particular order, here are my favorite XXX fashion WTFs:

1. Dan's perpetual gym class. I really should nail Rich on this as well, but Rich's shorts tend to be a bit looser and he doesn't tuck his shirt into them. So yeah, that's pretty much it: All summer long, Dan wore gym shorts that were a smidgen too tight, and tucked his shirt into them. It was one of those things that seemed wrong and/or appropriate, but I just couldn't peg why. Other than maybe we aren't at gym class, no matter how many pieces of sporting equipment are flying around.

2. The rumored jock in the freezer. I can't remember who said it was there, the timeframe it was there, or even the reasons behind its cryogenic state. I have never been able to confirm its existence as it no longer seems to be there. Unfortunately, I can't dismiss the image that maybe at one time, a time before estrogen warmed the walls of XXX, that it was lurking amongst pints of Ben and Jerry, frozen corn dogs and microwaveable Whitecastle burgers. That enough earns it a place in this list. A jock in the fridge? WTF?!?

3. FlipFlops and sandals. Let's just say we aren't a pretty-footed group of people. AT ALL. We'll never be foot models, and the livestock we trade is stepping prettier than the rest of us.

4. Frankie's sweater in a sweater. While most people began shedding clothing in April, Frankie kept his traditional sweater with a collared shirt beneath it. Shorts, sandals, a button-down shirt and a sweater. This posed a bit of a problem with temperature regulation around the office. Everyone was freezing, Frankie was burning up, and an all-out thermostat war followed. "Just take off your sweater!" we'd cry. "It's too damn cold in here!!!" And then, one day, he did. What we hadn't realized was that he had a sweater BENEATH his sweater. Don't misinterpret me--chest hair is sexy when in the right setting. Like a private setting. Or at the beach. But in the office, your shirt should be buttoned up to a level where your coworkers don't have to worry about catching a glimpse of your navel.

5. Last but certainly not least...the neon green bicycle shirt. The first time Sean wore this, I wasn't sure if I should laugh, cry, or call the jaws of life to pry the man out of that thing. It's exactly what it sounds like. It's bright, it's tight, and my God, what a fright. Evidently, he has missed the memo regarding spandex: Don't wear it unless you're in the gym, and in that case, it's really best to wear something over it. He's not on a bike, he's in no danger of being lost and on a day-to-day basis, there's no need for compression garments at work. Failure to lose this shirt may result in Sean's usurping of the moniker "The Green Monster" and the subsequent suicides of Red Sox fans everywhere since, after all, that's pretty much all they have left at this point in the season.****

Anyway, that's all I've got for tonight. I'm sure there will be mention of more fashion felonies in the future, and I hope those already mentioned haven't been traumatic enough to turn you off from reading the blog. Actually, hopefully they will. I've noticed some inconsistency in my blogging habits...


* Please visit the homepages for the American Cancer Society, Big Brothers/Big Sisters, St. Baldrick's and Operation Backpack for more information on these charitable organization, including ways you can become involved.

** Which, I will concede, they do with a notable degree of success.

*** The best part? Most of this effort was to fit in with the women!

****That one's for you, my Favorite Bostonian. :-*