Here lies, in two-toned periwinkle satin glory, the loved fabric that was once somebody’s most favorite outfit. The coffee-stain-hued coat with feather trimming and pearled buttons, or the turquoise flared jeans that now collect dust in the back corner of the closet, only to be worn once in a blue moon. Engraved on the chilled and cracked granite is the item’s lifespan, from as long as you could shed a tear to the day you set foot in that 6-by-6 cubicle. This is the sad reality of nearly every one of our clothing pieces. It begs the career path question that everyone neglects: Is your new job worth losing your sense of style?
Throwing up the grad cap, the image freeze-frames to the old-school-movie ending scene. This time, you zoom in to note a few things. Within the sea of school tinged caps and gowns peeps through a sliver of individualized dresses and suits, with toes concealed in ornate fabrics and materials that fit the body wearing them. What may initially go unnoticed is that within the graduation day uniform, each person differs on the one piece of the matching set that’s not required. Though the bottoms of your feet may seem insignificant, this moment of differentiation shows the cry for a sense of individuality and a way to stand out from the cloaks surrounding you. Just this example shows how much one can unconsciously crave being seen, and to share who they are through clothing.
A while back, a friend and I dug deep into the ways in which we lack energy in our closets, feeling the need to go through an identity crisis and switch up our entire closet in order to feel whole again. We wondered why we felt so distanced from ourselves and what we wear. Is it because we haven’t gone intensely soul-searching through shopping since we were teenagers? Is it because the trends right now don’t move our hearts? It made us think of what we wear now, and why it all feels so boring. It wasn’t just all those answers being yes—it’s also because growing up sucks a little bit.
My career path, not as uniformed as many, still had me realizing how much of adult life is spent wearing clothes only bought for work. I mean really, think about what a week looks like with a standard job. Wake up, put on the same rotating suits/scrubs/dress/etc., work 9:00 to 5:00, get off and be too tired to go out, change into pajamas, rot into the couch cushions, and repeat for the next four days. This made me think about all kinds of jobs where uniforms are provided and worn. Every. Single. Day. Your entire closet becomes engulfed in that one gray button-up jumpsuit, with the side wall minimally filled with clothes that look like, well, you.
Though I don’t know exactly where I’ll end up, I don’t see it being a job that critically determines my daily look. In fact, one of the reasons I dropped my education major was because of the fear—whether based in reality or not—that my personality would have to morph into a PG-version of myself, with my new wardrobe being knee-length at maximum, and not displaying my personality through clothes. This may seem dramatic, which, hello? Have you met a fashion major? But part of this sentiment rings true to everyone. Are your job and career choice worth abandoning your favorite parts of yourself? For me, that’s my style. The thought of my wardrobe being the same shapeless, colorless cloth for pretty much the rest of my adult life had me pulling out the barf bag, and it’s a conversation topic I felt needed to be brought to life.
I worried what would happen if I don’t find an environment where I could be myself and display that creative eye every day. Does such nirvana even exist in the corporate world? And then I stepped foot in the Stutz suite that is the PATTERN office. Like clockwork every Tuesday and Thursday, I’m greeted by all kinds of people who quite literally wear their personality on their sleeve. I felt my shoulders relax each new day I came in, as I saw people dressed in everything from cargo pants, to black maxi dresses and blue eyeliner, to stylized overalls, to Y2K low rise jeans, to sweats-like flowy pants disguised as chicly wide legs. The list goes on and on. I found my people. An office does exist where—to some extent—everyone can wear pretty much whatever. Keep in mind that there may be times when you walk in on a scary board meeting so you’d want to look pretty profesh. Other than that, most days everyone showed exactly the way I would imagine their personalities to look.
So in my totally professional and clearly overly thought-out opinion, I don’t think a life and job that sacrifices your personality or passions is worth pursuing. Here at PATTERN, I embrace my passion—mine being clothes— and it doesn’t really matter what everyone wears, anyways. At the end of the day, we get shit done here. In the future, I don’t ever want to find myself in a spot that feels like I’m a blind clone. I want my closet to be forever filled and ever-changing with me and where I am in that moment. While it will evolve and have some give and take to be appropriate, you bet I will find the perfect outfit for every occasion.
